Do I really want to do this?

Or do I have another choice?

Not really – if I don't want to ruin my career – what might happen anyway.

While I'm dressing myself to meet my fate in the park my thoughts are lingering back to the Friday night a week ago when the whole misery began.

Well, it didn't really begin there because my involvement in self-bondage has been going on for a long time.

When I was a teenager I started tying up myself when my parents weren't at home using belts, ny-lons, and pantyhoses. Later on, after I got my own apartment, the toys became more elaborate.

Now I'm one of the most successful young lawyers in San Francisco. Half a year ago I became ju-nior partner of Parker, MacGyver, and Smith, the largest law firm in the city specializing in business law.

For how much longer I don't know.

I read the letter-sized note probably for the umpteenth time, which I found in my backpack that Fri-day night. It is written in a fairly neutral, slightly forward-slanted handwriting with a Sharpie.

Hello Ms. Childs,

Nice to meet you.

You don't know me, but I know you.

You're surely intelligent enough to figure out that there's no easy way out for you when you find this note.

I have enough video footage and other proof that I could sell to any TV station in the city and make good money.

But this is not what I intend to do – if you don't force me to.

Judging from what I saw – and videotaped – we have something in common that we need to talk about.

Interested? Or would you rather have me contact the TV stations?

If you want to meet me, come to the bench behind the headquarters of Fort Mason Park next Friday night 2am sharp.

You have to wear four-inch heels, black nylons or pantyhose, a black wide tee shirt, and at least mid-thigh length black shorts with pockets and wide enough to allow your hands decent movement because you have to cut off the pockets inside, stick in you hands, and handcuff your wrists together. The key needs to stay in your apartment.

Even if we don't come to an agreement you won't have problems getting back in since the security guard will unlock your door when you tell him that you forgot your key.

See you soon,

An Admirer of yours.

Deep shit I've gotten myself into here, I think.

It's only half past midnight so I have enough time to get dressed for my involuntary date.

I look into the full-length mirror, and I'm proud of the five feet five of nude me that I see. I'm thirty-three, but most people estimate me no more than twenty-five. Part of it is exercise, part of it good genes that have endowed me with a pretty face with big blue eyes, almost waist-length, thick, naturally dark blonde hair, a slim figure with almost oversized breast requiring D-cups, a pair of perfect, long, slender legs, a slim waist, and a flat belly despite I don't do diets.

Last Friday wasn't my first outside self-bondage adventure, but the most elaborate one.

It took me three trips to LA, Seattle, and Portland, which I spread over half a year's time, to buy the three required custom toys.

There is a construction site for a new apartment complex five blocks away from my home on Hyde Street. I had watched the progress for weeks, and I did two scout trips to make sure that the building is deserted at night before I decided for time and day of my little adventure.

I sigh inwardly. Turned out to be anything else than little, I think.

I left around eleven. On site I waited fifteen minutes making sure that nobody saw me before I climbed up the stairs to the third floor where the drywall hasn't gone up yet. I emptied my backpack from my necessities and laid them out. Aside from some moonlight a Maglite provided the light I needed. I made sure during one of my scout trips that it can't be seen from outside.

I stripped myself naked. Not that I wore too much, even in San Francisco the nights are mild in June though not necessarily hot. Well, I wanted to add a little discomfort!

I stuffed my shorts and tee shirt into the backpack.

I took the hammer I brought and punched several framing nails into open studs at strategic spots. Two of them I bend to a loop using a pair of combination pliers. I waited fifteen minutes to make sure that nobody heard me, but since the windows and doors, without locks though, were already in and I made sure that all of them were closed I thought I was fine. Meanwhile I put the hammer, the pliers, and the unused nails back into my pack.

I put on my custom head harness with the two-inch ball gag after I stuffed my mouth with a pair of my own panties, clean ones though, closed all buckles, and padlocked it in my neck. The harness is made of soft black leather and also features Velcroed earmuffs and blindfolds, which I didn't close yet.

Next I looped a chain around a convenient stud, pulled it tight, and used a large padlock to connect it to my custom adjustable bar, which I pulled apart to the maximum three-foot spread. I didn't close the padlock yet. Its key I left on the floor within a foot of the bar.

I spread a small blanket on the rough plywood floor to save my knees from injury.

The smooth comfortable leather belt went around my slim waist, and I padlocked it in my back. I had checked the batteries at home, so I inserted the six-inch dildo in my already well-lubricated female interior. I pulled the crotch strap really tight before I buckled it up and padlocked it, too. The keys for both locks I left at home.

I didn't turn on the vibrator yet - as much as I felt like doing it.

But discipline prevailed, and I dropped the remote on the blanket. I also put my high heels on the blanket.

Now came the tough part, which to make it easier I have practiced a couple of times at home.

I hung the custom singleglove armbinder on the lowest nail and stuck my arms in from above. It is made of the same black leather as my head harness, still soft, but reinforced at the crucial spots. On the back top it has grommets in intervals that enabled me to change it from one nail to the next higher one, each time working my arms deeper into it. I'm very nimble, and finally my arms and hands were all the way in, tightly packed with my elbows touching. The armbinder's mitten end is triple reinforced so that my hands are worthless once they are trapped in there.

There were still several steps to go. I used another convenient nail to loop the criss-cross straps around my shoulders and over my head, still very loose. Then I grabbed the D-ringed ends one after the other with my also very nimble long toes and hung them over the two bend nails. During all these years practicing self-bondage I have learnt to use my toes halfway like fingers.

Walking slowly backward I pulled the armbinder straps tight around my chest.

Slide buckles are a wonderful idea especially when they have jaws! I felt the armbinder tightening upward around my arms and finally around my chest, tighter.

Tighter, good, better.

The only way out of it was now either cutting the straps or somebody helped me out. I didn't bring scissors or a knife, and I didn't expect somebody to help me out either!

My toes unhooked the D-rings from the bend nails, and I walked over to the blanket in front of the spreader bar. My feet and toes fumbled for a while to close the large padlock around the center ring on the spreader bar, both ends of the chain, and the D-ring at my armbinder's mitten end.

Only a few more steps to go.

My left big toe turned on the dildo, then I slipped back into my high heels. I kicked the remote out of reach. I knew that I had to work fast now before my first orgasm got to me.

I used my knees to push the blindfolds and the earmuffs shut, utilizing their Velcro system.

I knelt down on the blanket and had to grope around with my toes for a little while to find the time-locked steel cuffs at both ends of the spreader bar.

I finally managed to insert both my ankles, pushed, and they clicked shut!

No way out now until the timer released the cuffs in three hours!

I couldn't move a lot, but what for?

One orgasm after the other raged through my ecstatic body that I almost missed the cuffs' opening.

Hardly able to concentrate I pulled out my ankles and slipped out off the high heels. I hooked my left big toe into the loops of my blindfolds to open it. Same way to remove the earmuffs.

After I had removed the sensory deprivation I was able to concentrate enough to grab for the key to open the large padlock despite the vibrator was still going.

As I had planned there was no way of getting out of the armbinder, taking off the head harness, re-moving the dildo, or dressing. I knew I had to walk home nude with my arms in the armbinder, the loose ends of the tightened straps dangling in front from my shoulders, and the dildo still inside me. Just the thought kept me dripping wet despite I finally turned the dildo off after I walked over to where I had kicked the remote three and a half hours ago.

I used my toes to pack my things together for the way home and was just putting the chain back into my pack when I found the note inside.

I almost panicked expecting somebody to jump at me any time.

I looked around, I listened to the not-so silence in the big city, but nothing else happened. So I de-cided to continue with my plan since there wasn't anything else that I could do. Except for the nails in the studs, of course, I collected everything that I could, dildo remote, chain, the Maglite, adjustable spreader bar that I reduced to an easy to pack one-foot length, blanket, padlock, its key – and the tell-tale note, of course.

I closed my backpack and slipped my feet back into my high heels. I used my teeth to pick up my backpack and hook one strap around my left shoulder.

Five blocks to go home.

I had no clock, but I estimated that it was about three o'clock when I emerged from the construction building onto the street. I couldn't see or hear anybody so I slowly worked my way home, staying in the shadows as much as I could. I also tried to avoid the clicking of my high heels as much as possible – not successful all the time.

I had to concentrate so hard to ignore the vibrator, which was a turn-on despite I switched it off, try-ing to walk as silently as I could despite the heels, and not to lose my pack that I forgot the note for the estimated hour that it took me to get to my apartment building.

One time I had to hide in a bush for about fifteen minutes until a couple of stone-drunk night owls probably returning from a bar had disappeared through their front door.

First I peeked through the front glass door to make sure that George the security guard was sound asleep at his desk, then I walked around to the back door.

I sat down my backpack and slipped out of my high heels. Balancing on one leg, I fumbled a little bit to retrieve my house key on a string from one of the outer pockets of my backpack, insert it into the doorlock, turn it, and open the door.

I hung the key's string on the armbinder strap's slide lock at my right shoulder, picked up my pack to sling it over my other shoulder, and slipped my feet back into my shoes.

I took the staircase because I knew that there are no cameras – not to mention the chance of meet-ing somebody is nil. Who walks stairs when there is an elevator? And my apartment building is fancy enough that it works all the time.

Same procedure to get into my apartment on the fourth floor.

I turned the deadbolt and slumped down on the couch.

I was mentally and physically so exhausted that I fell asleep for almost three hours on the couch to wake up quite stiff.

I used an extremely sharp knife to cut the armbinder straps. My custom design will allow me to at-tach replacement ones to reuse the armbinder for more fun. I took off the head harness and the waist belt with crotch strap and dildo. I took a shower and went to bed to sleep another six hours.

This damn note!

I still can't figure out how he – always assuming it's a guy – was there first hand, how he found out my name, what he's up to.

Even with the impending doom for my professional future I couldn't withstand the temptation to spend the rest of last Saturday and the entire following Sunday in my armbinder and a ballgag. The bathroom question I have solved long ago with a toilet seat bidet combination. No dildo, I wanted to keep myself on the verge of an orgasm as long as possible. Needless to say that I came several times anyway. Just not being able to use my arms did it for me!

Does it for me every time.

Time to get ready now, I decide.

I choose black lace panties and black nylons. I actually had to go to Target to buy the shorts in four sizes larger than I usually wear!

I already cut off the pockets right after I bought them.

I slip my feet into the black four-inch heels as he asked for with one alteration though. My house key is in my left shoe. A rather generous black tee shirt, which I mostly use instead of a nightgown, and a black baseball cap to hide my long blonde hair finish my outfit.

I open my apartment door ajar before I stick my hands into the shorts' pockets, my left wrist already in the handcuff. I feel with my left hand for the open cuff link and click it shut around my right wrist.

Before I leave I look at myself in the hallway mirror. Good call, I think, it really looks as if I only had my hands in my pockets. My left foot pulls the door close.

I boldly use the front door. George stirs a little, but continues snoring softly. Nice security guard, I think, but his negligence helps me out again.

It's a half moon and a cloudy night, but I can see my steps perfectly well because my eyes are very light-sensitive. I leisurely walk over to Fort Mason Park. I know the meeting point exactly because I have scouted it two days ago. I meet only very few people, and hardly anybody more than glances at me. It's mostly my long hair that attracts immediate attention, and now it's hidden in the baseball cap. The shorts and the tee shirt are decidedly unsexy.

I guess I'm about fifteen minutes early so I sit down on the bench and nervously wait for the things to come.

It actually starts anticlimactic.

"Ms. Childs?" Despite I've looked around frequently the pleasant male voice from behind surprises me.

He takes place beside me on the bench, and I look at my date. Like me he's all dressed in black. Black jeans, black shoes, black tee shirt. I estimate him in his late thirties despite he has some gray in his rather long hair, but mostly in his full beard. His eyes are dark, but that could be deceiving in the three quarter darkness. He stands probably at about five eight, slim, but muscular looking. I can more feel his smile, but it seems warm.

"Thanks for coming."

"You're welcome," I manage to answer sounding calm despite my mind is reeling. So far this seems way too pleasant to be blackmail.

"I guess you have a thousand questions so give me a few minutes trying to answer some of them or what I think they might be."

I nod, "Go ahead."

"My name is Joe Morton, and I'm the general contractor for that building where you had your fun-time. I forgot my cellphone last Friday evening. I didn't get it earlier because I discovered that it was missing only during a bowling contest with some of my workers. When I tried to pick it up on my way home I found you there. I actually picked up the phone in the next room when I heard a noise. My guess is it was the click of your padlock. I suspected homeless people because we never leave tools behind unlocked and burglars know that. When I saw what was going on I started videotaping you us-ing my phone. The quality is actually quite good despite the scarce light. It only needed some en-hancement with my computer program. I watched you for a long time because it was so much fun."

I inwardly wince at this initially, but it this so unusual? A quite normal guy accidentally stumbling over a pretty nude woman, who had tied up herself and had the orgasms of her life!

"In between I found your drivers license in your backpack, and since your name has been in the news a lot lately I knew immediately who you were."

That explains a lot to me, I think.

"I got a Sharpie and this piece of paper from my van and left it in your pack. I knew exactly when I had to leave that you don't catch me because I saw the countdown on your time-release locks."

"Why didn't you take advantage of me right there?" I ask. "You could have done everything with me, and I couldn't have done anything about it."

He shakes his head. "Because that wouldn't have been me. I decided to give you a chance to decide what you want. I'm really glad that you came."

"But what do you want, Joe?" I decide to address him with his name. "By the way, I'm Rebecca."

"Nice to meet you in person, Rebecca."

"Nice to meet you, too, Joe," I answer despite I'm not convinced yet. But I somehow feel that this is not going to turn out like I was afraid of. "So what do you want?"

"I have the impression that we share a common, but socially not in the open accepted interest," he replies slowly. "I've been into bondage for a long time, but I could never find the partner I'm still dreaming of."

"And you think that would be me?" I ask surprised – and way to fast. "I don't ..."

I stop in mid-sentence, starting to think about what he said. What if ...

I have to admit to myself that I have been thinking about looking for a partner for a long time, too, but I have always been afraid to come out of the closet. My career, my friends, my parents ...

But wouldn't having a partner mean safety, too? So far my safeguards and back-ups have always worked, but who knows? Maybe it's only a question of time until I run out of luck?

What if ...

I tell him this because I don't really have anything to lose. I don't really think any more that he'd ac-tually do it, but if Joe should decide to publish the video I'm finished anyway!

"What do you have in mind with me?"

"What I have in mind with you is more what I could imagine for us," I can feel more than see his smile because a cloud has covered the moon again. "Part of it is dependent if you're up for a chal-lenge."

"I'm listening."

"I know a small bar less than two blocks from here, which is sparsely illuminated all the time, has pretty secluded booths, and is usually half empty this time of the night. We go there and talk."

"With my hands ..."

"Yes, with your hands handcuffed in your pockets. Nobody will notice."

I think about this. Somehow Joe has worded one of my deepest desires, being tied up in public without anybody noticing. I've always been good at making fast decisions.

"Let's go! Where is the bar?"

We walk side by side, silently. Once I have made a decision I stick to it, so I suggest, "Why don't you put your hand in my pocket and hold my hand, Joe?"

He seems to be a fast decider, too, because I have hardly finished my question, and I already feel his strong hand wrapping around mine in my left pocket. He squeezes it softly.

"Thank you, Rebecca," he says softly.

The bar is really not full, so we get a booth in the very back. Joe picks up sodas for both of us at the bar. He even brings a straw for me. "Seems we have something else in common here," he comments when he returns, "neither of us seems to be a lot into alcohol."

I shake my head. "No alcohol, no drugs of any sort. What's about you?"

"Neither. A beer every three months. I actually think that my opinion about drugs in general is way less tolerant than most people's."

Doesn't start out too bad, I think. Maybe my career isn't over yet because I have to refuse whatever he wants.

"Okay, let me explain what I have in mind, Rebecca. We have already established that we share this special interest and that neither of us has a partner. I am probably right to assume that our work schedules aren't too far off? The economy is slow so both of us aren't too swamped for now. Of course, work comes first since it is each of us's livelihood.

Now, what I want from you is a lot of your time to figure out if this could work on a long-term rela-tionship. Within the next year I want to have twenty-six evenings from about nine to twelve with you, preferably Wednesday or Thursday, which we will use to discuss what we're going to do the following weekend. I want twenty-five weekends from you from Friday evening latest ten to Monday morning at least until eight. I hope they don't ask you to come in earlier than nine on Mondays?"

"No," I shake my head. "My senior partners are dedicated workaholics, but also night owls. They usually don't show up before ten, and all three have families, so their wives try to get them home over the weekends."

"Sounds good so far," Joe nods approvingly. "Of course, there might be weekends or at least Satur-days when you have to work or I. No problem, that's why I want to give it a year anyway. If this work consists only of bringing home paperwork, what I guess can happen to each of us, now, that's no hin-drance. I'll get back to that later. I also want one ten-day vacation from Friday evening to Monday morning from you within this time frame. We will go to a weekend cabin in a location we will agree on. What do you think so far?"

"Time-wise this seems feasible to me," I admit, "but I still don't get completely what you really want from me," I say despite I have a very distinct idea.

"I don't believe that, Rebecca, you know very well by now anyway," he sighs exaggerated.

Good, I think, he's smart, what I like in a man.

"But let me go a little more into details. I already said that we'll use our mid-week meetings to discuss the weekends or the vacation. I thought we could do this best with a dinner somewhere where nobody knows you that you don't need to be ashamed of being seen with a redneck construction worker."

I laugh, not because I realize it's a test, but because this is funny.

"Joe, I will be seen with whom I choose – aside from that I don't think you're a redneck. This whole idea of yours is way to elaborate. A redneck in the negative sense of this term would have raped me, maybe beaten me up, and then vanished for good."

He smiles. "Okay, the better. I'll leave the choice of restaurants to you then as long as it's not spicy Asian since I don't care for that a lot."

"Sounds good. I know plenty of good quiet restaurants in San Francisco that would qualify for this. So what else?"

"The weekends I want to split up. Since your toy store is probably well stocked judging from the ela-borate ones I saw last Friday we'll spend most of the weekends at your place. Every second or third one I want us to go on an excursion we will agree on, for an hour, half a day, or an overnighter."

"Sounds still good to me. Let's start with the time at home. What do I have to do?"

"Well," now he hesitates a little, "for starters I want you to be tied up all the time. Either I tie you up or you do it yourself, and I can watch. I'm a hobby photographer, so I want to take pictures and do videos, either of you or both of us. I will edit them and we will have fun the next time we are together."

I nod. "Sounds still good. That's all?"

"A good deal of it. For the excursions you will be tied up, too, and we will work out how to do this in public without anybody noticing. I love complex problems, and I believe that you do, too."

"That's true," I admit. "My job and what I did last Friday strongly hints at this," I smile. I start really liking him. This actually could be fun. Just the thought of spending whole weekends tied up gets me even moister between my legs than I already am from being handcuffed!

"If this is all you want from me, that's a yes."

"Yes, it actually is. What results from it we will have to see. You can guess that I'm hoping that this will lead to a long-term relationship, but if it doesn't, oh well, it was worth a try. One more thing, actually two.

You will have to trust me on this that I don't want to hurt you, on the contrary. I don't like physical pain, neither on the receiving end nor on the giving one. But I will insist on you staying tied up as much as possible. Bringing paperwork home is not an excuse since I have the strong suspicion that you can use a computer and type with your toes."

He looks questioningly at me.

"Good guess, yes, I can," I admit. "It's slow, but would be sufficient. Am I right to assume that you'd love watching and videotaping me?"

He grins a mischievous little boy's grin. "I admit that."

"That's great because I'd love you watching me. Do you expect me typing your stuff, too?"

"No, it's usually more architectural drawing than typing. For the real typing tasks I got a secretary whom I share with four other general contractors, means I have her once a week."

"I actually got my own, but that doesn't mean that I won't have to do outlines for legal documents."

"No problem, like I said, our jobs come first."

"What's about household chores? Do you expect me doing these, too?"

"As much as you can, and the rest I'll take over."

I nod approvingly. "So what's the last thing you want to tell me?"

"If it doesn't work out I will give you the original tape and all copies, and we'll split."

I'm not really surprised at this since I estimate Joe by now as a good honest guy who just had the incredible luck to stumble across me in an extremely vulnerable situation and not only decided to use it to his short-term advantage, but developed an elaborate plan to win me over as his bondage partner – or more. However, I really start warming up to his idea – or should I say I'm getting wet to his idea?

"Maybe one more thing, Rebecca," he says softly. "You will have to trust me on this, too. I will not force myself onto you, but I promise I will do everything to make you happy. There are a few things I will refuse, but otherwise I'm open for almost everything – as long as it keeps you tied up and horny."

He really estimated me pretty well, I think, and he continues even softer: "I've always dream of a woman not only to share my kinky side with, but also one who has a high sex drive and whose self-esteem is well-developed enough to enjoy it without second thoughts of conventional behavior."

I smile. "Looks like you picked the right one. I certainly qualify for what you said, and I think I'll be able to appreciate you. What's about you?"

"I'm really good at enjoying with my eyes, but if you could help me now and then I'd appreciate it for sure!"

"No problem! My toes, as you already know, are very talented, and so are my mouth and tongue."

"Looks like we have an agreement," Joe states satisfied. "When and where are we going to meet next week?"

"Not only next week, or do you have planned something else now?" I take the plunge. By now my panties are soaked wet, and I have to find out if this could be as good as it sounds. "There is an almost entire weekend to go. Not counting towards the twenty-five."

For a split-second I think that I had him finally stomped, but he starts smiling from one ear to the other. "Great!"

"So I'd suggest going on a walk towards my place. I really like night walks. One thing though."

He looks questioningly at me, and I grin: "Please, take my house key out of my left shoe. It's uncom-fortable to walk on it for a longer time."

He laughs, bends underneath the table, takes off my left high heel, retrieves the key, and slips my shoe over my foot again – not without giving it a short massage.

"Feels good," I admit. "You can certainly repeat this. Keep the key since I'm too tied up at the mo-ment to make use of it."

Both of us join a joyful laughter. Maybe this is a turn in my life. Not the disaster I was afraid of, but an immense improvement even in the long run!

On the way home we talk a little about us. Joe tells me about his marriage, which ultimately failed because his ex was prudish, and I let him in a little on my half-hearted attempts on finding somebody to share with and enjoy my secret. He has threaded his hand into my pocket again to hold mine with-out me asking.

This is getting better, I think. Joe seems to be very good at guessing what I want.

After he has locked my apartment door he asks innocently: "Do you need relief right now or later?"

I'm startled. "How do you know?"

"Well," he grins, "I had my hand in your pocket ..."

I laugh. "Yes, I do. Now. Do you want to help me?"

"Sure. What do you want me to do? Just ask me, I'll tell you if it's a no-no."

"Open the cuffs and recuff my hands on my back, take off my shoes, shorts, nylons, and panties, and use your choice of hands, fingers, tongue to help me out."

I know that this is early to ask for something like this, but I want to put him to the test since I'm so immensely curious to find out more about how far he will stand up to his own suggestions.

Without a word Joe does what I asked for. He kneels in front of me, and soon I feel his tongue work-ing on me – to a full success literally within seconds.

After I regained my breath I say softly: "Thank you. I'm ready now for whatever attack on me you can think of."

"Guess I need to have a look at your toy chest first."

"It's in my bedroom," I grin. "Follow me."

He's digging for a while in my extensive collection. After probably five minutes Joe pulls out two pairs of stainless steel wrist to thigh cuffs and a pair of also stainless steel tight ankle cuffs.

"We're going to take a shower together now," he suggests.

"I'd certainly like that," I agree immediately since I feel sweaty – and cummy, too. Joe unlocks my handcuffs, takes off my tee shirt, I' not wearing a bra, then he secures my wrists to my thighs and my ankles together.

"Let's go, Rebecca," he smiles. I have the choice of extremely small steps or hopping. I decide for the latter because I know that it does cute things to my generous breasts, and I'm sure that Joe will appreciate it.

Of course, he does. While I'm hopping to the bathroom I enjoy the shine in his eyes while my firm breasts are bouncing around nicely.

My shower is three by five feet so there is plenty of space for two. I also have a shower chair that one of us can sit down.

Joe is very thorough in cleaning me. He starts with shampooing my long thick hair, and I can see that he has plenty of fun with it. I tell him what special soap to use for my face, and I enjoy his tender hands. He rinses out my hair, what takes care of the soap in my face, too. Then he spends a lot of time on my neck, further down, then my breasts. He spends way more time on them then it's neces-sary for cleaning purposes – to the result that I'm getting as wet from inside as from outside. Since I have long legs and long arms, but a rather average torso, I can reach myself when my hands are cuffed in my back. Not so with the ankle to thigh cuffs, but I try to turn them to get my left hand to the inside.

Of course, Joe notices. "Now, Rebecca, isn't this my job?"

I nod excited. "Yes!"

He doesn't bother to turn off the water, and right away I feel his fingers enter me. He probes a little bit to get to know me better, but I'm easily to arouse anyway, so he hits the crucial spot soon.

Joe hugs me to prevent me from falling while I'm having another climax.

After I've regained my breath I notice what this did to him.

"Do you need help, too?"

"Yes, I'd appreciate it," he smiles. I sit down on the shower chair, and Joe kneels in front of me. Dur-ing all this we haven't turned off the water. I lift my feet up to his male part, which, I think, would be a good size for me. The consistency is awesome, so I wrap my toes around and start working.

Afterwards Joe just hugs and holds me for a long time, gently kissing my neck. I snuggle into him, try to wrap me around him as close I can get being cuffed.

"Thank you," he whispers in my ear. "That was great."

"Vice versa! Thank you. I start thinking that it's a good thing that you caught me and developed this plan."

He doesn't comment, but there is nothing that I would have expected him to say. Joe finishes wash-ing me – with one interruption. When he reaches the area between my legs I'm ready again. This time he doesn't wait for me to ask, directly or indirectly, he just keeps going until I have my next orgasm.

Hard to believe, but we are able to finish the shower eventually despite Joe's hands all over me to take off all soap and shampoo residues have gotten me excited again. He starts to respond, but I call him off. "Let me experience some frustration, too, Joe. This is part of the fun."

"I know what you mean."

While he towels me dry, I tell him what I feel. "Joe, so far this goes more than only well. I have a re-ally good time, and I'm glad that you're here."

"Vice versa," he grins. "I'd sure like to repeat this."

"There might be a high necessity if you keep going like this," I laugh. "In this case I mean the shower."

"Can you keep these cuffs for the night? I mean are they comfortable enough? Remember, I want to keep you tied up as much as possible, and that includes nights."

"I appreciate that. They probably would be, but I'd like to try something else, which I bought a while ago, but then never dared to use because I wasn't sure if I would get out again on my own. Let me show you," I lead him to the bedroom where my toy closet is still open. "If you release my ankles I'll show you."

My left foot finds the gadget in question. "Waistbelt and mittens. The problem is that the padlocks are in a spot that I have trouble reaching with my feet."

"I like these," Joe comments. He takes off the ankle to thigh cuffs as well and puts the next device on me. Thick, padlocked, black leather mittens for both my hands. Two-inch waistbelt padlocked in front. He pulls comfortably tight. Somehow he has gotten the feeling how far to go without hurting me fast, I think. The third padlock snaps shut.

I let him gently move my hands to my waist, where he padlocks the mittens to the waistbelt.

"Guess I'm all yours again," I smile at him, "but I have a request. I have a slight insomnia problem, and I'd really like to try to sleep now. I can sleep until one or half past, but rarely longer." I shrug. "Probably inner clock. Either way, if we go to bed soon I'd still get enough sleep to get up to speed tomorrow for whatever you want to do with me."

"Good suggestion," he agrees immediately. "I am also a night owl, but I could use some rest now, too. But first let's go to the bathroom and clean your teeth. Do you have a spare toothbrush for me?"

Luckily I do. He first thoroughly cleans my teeth, then his.

Finally in my Cal king-sized waterbed, he tucks us up. I snuggle into his right arm, my head on his shoulder. I kiss him, and he responds eagerly, but breaks if off before it arouses me. "Didn't you say you want to sleep?"

I can only feel his smile because my bedroom is completely dark except for the clock on the night-stand.

"Point taken, Joe. Good night."

"Good night, Rebecca."

He falls asleep soon while it takes me a little bit longer.

What a day! Of course, I'm not completely convinced yet, but I already know for sure that Joe is the big chance for me that I've hoped for so long.

I wake up first.

I have shifted to my side during my restful sleep. I use my left foot to probe for Joe in the direction I hear him breathing. I find his thigh and higher up more, but I resist the temptation. I let him sleep and just enjoy the sensation of having a good man in my bed. A man whom I hardly know, whom I thought he'd blackmail me, what he did – well, kinda – but it is turning into a consensual relationship rapidly, a man who already gave me more sexual satisfaction than any other before.

He wakes up less than half an hour later.

I feel and hear him moving, then his hand is on my chest, cupping my breast.

"Good morning, Rebecca."

"Good morning, Joe."

"Give me some time. I'm slow to wake up," he says.

"Do you want me to speed it up?" I ask.

"No, but maybe the other way round?"

Already? I think. But why not? Let's find out what he has in mind, so I say: "Sure, go ahead with whatever you want to do."

I feel him diving underneath the blanket, and soon his hand is between my legs. Then his tongue. I reach my climax fast, and it lasts for a while.

We snuggle together until I suggest: "What's about some breakfast, Joe? I'm getting a little bit hungry after all that action."

"Sounds good to me. What restraint do you want to use while you make it?"

Now, I think, looks like he gives me a little surprise here. I consider for a while. "Depends on how hungry you are. Given enough time I could do it like I am. But it would be faster if you just tied my an-kles together and my wrists in front."

"Okay, let's do this for now," he agrees, "but I'd certainly like to see other versions eventually."

"Deal."

After I have used my bidet set-up he changes my restraints.

We decide against any sort of clothing for either of us since I keep my apartment warm.

I start making breakfast and setting the table. My kitchen is L-shaped with an island that has a raised breakfast bar and also accommodates the range, so everything is close together. Good for me because Joe has chosen ankle cuffs with only a six-inch chain, so I have to take short steps. I prepare tea, toast with jam, scrambled eggs, and add orange juice and some chocolate chip muffins.

No big deal, I think, how often have I done this before? I guess that any other not restrained woman wouldn't be faster either.

For eating Joe insists to swap my handcuffs to my back though. No big deal either, I think, how often have I eaten without using my hands?

Only that he feeds me, which results in a lot of kissing.

After he has helped me to put the dishes into the dishwasher Joe offers to brush my hair and braid it. He brushes for a long time, and it feels so good!

"You like doing this, don't you," I state the obvious.

"Oh yes, I love your hair. It's so long and thick, so much fun. By the way I'm glad that you're not shaved either."

"No, I'm not, but it's only partly lazy though," I admit. "I like the feel of my hair, too, at least at this spot," I add, laughing.

"Looks like we have more in common. But," he changes topics, "now I have a request. I want to see how you get into that armbinder though I can almost figure it out since I saw the extra nails. But I'd really like to see it."

"That can be accommodated," I smile. I show him the corresponding hooks where I only have to take off the pictures. "Now and then I have business company here," I explain, "so I have to pretend normalcy."

"Let's add a spreader bar, too, for the rest of today. Just extend it to about eighteen inches and set the time-lock for eight hours."

I love it! Armbinder and spreader bar all day long! Sounds like so much fun! I'm already getting moist again.

Since I have done this a few times before as well I stand soon in front of Joe wearing the armbinder and the spreader bar. Looks like he enjoyed my performance, I think. Easy to see since he's naked, too.

Joe has more surprises though. He asks me to follow him to the bedroom and digs for several more items from my toy chest.

He asks me to climb onto the bed and kneel down. I sit on the bed rim, then I swing up my spreader-barred legs, roll over, bend my knees, and sit up again. I move close to the headboard facing the footend, kneeling.

Joe pulls the criss-cross straps tighter over my chest, which makes the armbinder really feel snugly, and cuts off the loose ends. He adds three black leather straps around my wrists, below, and above my elbows. Now it's really snugly. I cannot move my arms at all!

A padlock attaches the D-ring to the spreader bar like I had it last Friday night, too. He finds another spreader bar, which forces my knees as far apart as they go. Ropes attach each padlock end of the ankle bar to the headposts and vice versa each lock on the knee bar to the footposts.

I wriggle, not much give left, I think. Great! I'm more and more looking forward to being with Joe, aside from that my juices are flowing stronger now.

His last items are a padded leather blindfold and a pair of my panties into my mouth, clean ones luckily, followed by a two-inch ball gag.

"Mmph," is the only thing that escapes my mouth when the squeeze of nipple clamps surprises me. I already feel the inside of my thighs getting soaked wet when Joe's fingers enter me. He's gentle, and he teases for me an eternity – or so it seems since he retracts every time when I feel getting close. I moan of frustration until he finally relents and makes me come.

And come, and come ...

I lose all track of time, and I must have climaxed at least eight times when Joe finally relents. Some-times he waited until my breathing was almost back to normal, sometimes I was barely down from the peak when his fingers attacked me again.

Only, the last time it weren't his fingers, but his tongue, which gave me the best of all these climaxes – especially since he kept me on the peak for, well, I don't really know how long, and I don't think I'll ever ask him.

He takes the blindfold off, unties the ropes, and removes the padlock between armbinder and ankle spreader bar that I can slump onto the bed, very exhausted. Joe unbuckles the ball gag, and I say, smiling happily: "Thank you. That was wonderful."

"I didn't go too far?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No, I can take some more."

"Be careful what you ask for, you might get it, Rebecca. I might take you up on this later," he grins. "Or what's about right now?"

Before he has even finished the sentence I feel his fingers inside me again. Since I've haven't really had a chance of calming down completely the next orgasm hits me soon – and long.

I never get down to thinking a lot since my body overrides my mind with an ocean of sexual con-tentment that I've never had before. No way that I could have done this myself, I think later. After probably another seven or so orgasms, which more felt like one mega-climax, Joe's fingers and ton-gue finally exit me for good.

I lie snuggled in his strong arms, still working on regaining my breath.

"Hopefully the walls here are well insulated since you weren't exactly quiet," he whispers in my ear, "but I didn't have time to put the ball gag back on."

"It's fine, the walls aren't too bad, most of the neighbors aren't at home on Saturday afternoons, and the rest will think I'm watching a horror movie. Though this wasn't horror, it was heaven! But what's about you now, Joe?"

"Well, your hands are out of commission, and I want to keep them there. Leaves three possibilities. I let you choose, Rebecca."

Three ... of course! Do I really want to do this already? I ask myself.

I look into his warm eyes for a long time. He has the good sense to say nothing, just smilingly looking back into mine.

"I choose the middle option, Joe."

He beams. "Thank you. One condition though."

I frown. "Huh?"

"Yes," he grins, "the armbinder stays on."

"No problem," I grin back, "actually better. Just lie on the bed after you've taken off the knee spreader bar. I don't think the time for the other one is up yet."

He obliges, and my mouth starts working on him for a while. Doesn't take long, it looks like Joe really likes this kind of attention as much as he enjoys watching me and giving me pleasure. When his consistency is good enough I ask him to unwrap a condom and use the toes of my left to roll it on. The spreader bar is in the way, but I manage to slowly walk on my knees, feet and bar in the air, over him, take him deep inside me, and start moving rhythmically ...

He manages to hold back until we share the climax. I slump on top of Joe and kiss him. For a long time. He holds me with his arms wrapped around me, including my arms in the armbinder. "Thank you, Rebecca," he whispers in my ear.

"Psht, thank you," I close his mouth again. I feel him growing hard again underneath me, the condom is still on, so I go for another round. With the predictable result.

In between it's very late afternoon, or rather early evening, and we are really hungry. Joe prepares steaks from the freezer and baked potatoes. Since he doesn't want to take off my armbinder, he feeds me first with a fork and then using his mouth, what gets me moist again.

I know that he notices me squiggling more and more, but he doesn't help me this time.

Well, he does, just not immediately, which is perfectly fine with me. After dinner, he puts away the dishes, then he goes to the bedroom and picks up a two-inch ring gag.

The French kiss that follows is awesome. Slowly it gets me close, then I feel his fingers inside me, and I climax again. Luckily Joe catches me before I fall off the barstool.

"Mm-mmm," I gag-talk, but he gets it anyway.

"You're welcome," he smiles, "I don't want you to get hurt. I think we'll leave that gag in for a while, at least as long we're watching a movie. Oh, and your armbinder will stay, of course."

I eagerly nod on that, of course, because it's exactly what I want, too.

We agree on 'Message in a Bottle'. Meanwhile the ankle spreader bar's time-lock has opened. Joe sits on the couch, and I lie down with my head on his lap and get comfy.

Aside from that both of us have already seen it, I'm not sure how much Joe actually watches the movie. I certainly don't see a lot because his fingers are constantly playing with my nipples, which are rock-hard all the time, but it's just a little not enough to set me off. When the movie is over Joe asks, "Want?"

I get it immediately when I look into his eyes. They show the same expectant, happy and simulta-neously serious, expression they had when I told him that I want to have sexual intercourse with him.

I nod, and he takes the gag off. He watches me struggling a little bit to sit up. I stand up, and balanc-ing on one leg, take care of his male part – which responds fast and excited to the tender treatment of my nimble toes. After Joe's put on a condom, I take place on his lap, facing him, my thighs on both sides of his, and slowly move towards him. His hand guides him into me. Deep. Deeper.

We share the climax at almost the same instant.

We spend a few hours just talking and find out that we have a lot in common beyond bondage. We share the enthusiasm for nature and outdoors, Joe loves camping and hiking as much, maybe even more than I do. We enjoy the same movies and music.

There are two beautiful things about this conversation. First, I'm getting more and more convinced that this is really the break in my private life I've been hoping for, if not actually pursued though. Second, I'm sitting on his lap all the time, now sideways with my legs stretched out to one side, arms still snugly secured in my armbinder, my head leaning against his shoulder, both of Joe's arms tightly wrapped around me, but it's talking, just talking despite both of us are nude in addition. It's another hint for me that there could be more between Joe and me than just bondage and sex.

We are comfortable with each other.

At one point, Joe suggests going to bed and asks, "Do you want to keep the armbinder for the night?"

"Of course," I smile, "what do you think?"

"I like the idea," he grins.

Joe cleans my teeth before we go to bed. I'm lying on my side, my tied-up arms behind me, my head on his shoulder. His fingers are playing with my nipple.

"A little good-night treatment?" Joe whispers in my ear, and I nod. Why not?

His fingers find my – not yet ready though – female spot, but it doesn't take him long to get me to a climax, a more loving one this time, not so driven by raw lust.

I fall asleep in his arm.

Sunday morning.

Joe's awake before me this time. His lips find mine, and we share a long French kiss – which has the beneficial side effect of getting me horny.

Joe seems to notice because he dives beneath the blanket, and I feel his tongue all over the crucial spot.

To a predictable result.

"What attack on me are you planning for today?" I ask him afterwards stretching lazily in his arms.

"Hiking," he grins. "But with some additions."

This gets me curious fast. What additions?

He's not telling me yet, I realize soon because he resists my probing. We snuggle for a while before we get up for a shower. Similar arrangement like last time, only Joe chooses to handcuff my hands on my back this time, and the ankle cuffs are tight without a chain. I actually enjoy hopping, I think, be-cause a look in Joe's face when he's looking at my breasts bouncing up and down shows me how much he likes this.

Despite the result of this shared shower is predictable, it's doesn't get boring. Am I such a nymph, I ask myself, or is Joe just revealing that I have a way higher sex drive than I thought?

"Preparing breakfast will be a little tougher for you today," Joe announces. "I'll take off the ankle cuffs, but not the handcuffs."

I can see that he's surprised how little this hinders me.

My arms are long enough that I can work with my shackled hands on one side, seeing perfectly what I'm doing. All done before, Joe, I think. You'll have to throw some higher obstacles in my way if you really want to see me struggling!

I enjoy Joe feeding me again. I can get used to this, I think. Having a good man feeding me while I'm tied up!

"Okay, here goes," Joe finally starts explaining what he has in mind after he's watched me putting the dishes in the dishwasher. "It's foggy, and there might be some drizzle today, which is the perfect weather for rain ponchos. I saw that you have two of them in your closet."

I still don't get it, tell him, and he grins. "You also have an armbag, Rebecca. It will look like a back-pack underneath your poncho."

I'm taken by surprise, I have to admit. Do I really want to do this? "I don't know ..."

"Don't worry, I know a part of the Coastal Trail north of here, where I've hardly ever met anybody," Joe smiles. "It will be perfect for the first time."

"But what if I have to go?" I try one last time to talk him out of this. As much as the idea excites me as much it scares me as well.

"No chance for you to get out of this," Joe insists, "in either way."

We get ready. Joe takes off my handcuffs, and I dress myself. Panties with a medium-sized femi-nine napkin, just in case of a very possible flood, hiking socks, hiking pants, comfortable hiking boots, a sports bra, undershirt, a tee shirt.

"Now comes the interesting part," Joe smiles. "Get ready."

I put my arms in my back, forearms parallel, and grab the opposite upper arm with my hands. Joe uses two two-inch wide straps. A long one goes around my upper arms and pulls them as close to-gether as comfort allows. It will be for several hours, and the goal is only to immobilize my arms, not to dislocate my shoulders. The second, short strap, more like a cuff, ties my parallel forearms together. Already nothing goes, but he's not done yet.

My armbag is custom-made like a lot of my toys.

"It's also one of the things I've never been able to put on myself," I state, slowly getting warmed up to the idea. Or should I say getting moisted up to the idea? "Thanks for letting me try it."

"My pleasure."

He slips the armbag over my arms from below. He pulls both straps outside around my shoulders, across my chest, over the opposite shoulder, and buckles them up in the back. Then he laces the bag tight, my custom idea aside from the size.

"Perfect," I'm thrilled. My arms are a useless bundle on my back now!

Joe adds the rain poncho, and we're ready to go.

"I'll take your keys and be back in twenty minutes with my car," he announces only when he's almost out of the door.

So here I am. Arms worthless. My toes, too, because of the hiking boots. Couldn't he have waited with tying me up that thoroughly until we're really ready to leave?

No. I answer my own question. That's part of his idea of keeping me busy. I use my mouth to turn on the stereo and sit on the couch. It's soft, so my arms are comfortable.

Joe comes back in twenty-five minutes with his fairly new Dodge pick-up truck. He's also changed into hiking outfit.

Since I've trouble getting into the high vehicle he just lifts me in.

It's a wonderful day. On my insistence we go a lot further than Joe has planned because I have so much fun. I feel moist between my legs all the time, but a comfortable moist, not the dripping wet, ex-cited, one short before I'm ready to come.

It's slightly drizzling on and off, and we meet only one older couple close to the parking lot. The rest of the trail we have for ourselves. While we're slowly walking Joe tells me a lot about the ecology of the coastal forest, the animals and plants, why the climate benefits them, and so on.

He's a good entertainer, too, I realize, not only a good sex partner.

After a few hours our breakfast tea catches up with me.

"Would you mind untying me for a while," I ask. "I really have to go. There's enough nature here."

"Now, that's not the idea, Rebecca. I won't untie you. Either you do it on your own," Joe grins mi-schievously since he knows well that I can't do this with hiking boots and my arms secured on my back in the armbag, "or I'll help you."

"Fine," I agree because I have no other choice. I'm not looking forward to this, but Joe is very gentle. He pulls down my pants and panties, and I crouch down and relieve myself.

Then he surprises me again. He pulls a Kleenex out of his pocket and gently, I'd almost say lovingly, wipes me dry.

"That was sweet," I smile at him, "that deserves a reward."

He dresses me again, then I give him a long French kiss.

Half an hour later we find a bench along the trail where we munch some fruit and chocolate and drink water. Of course, Joe has to feed me, which he does with pleasure – like I can easily see in his sparkling eyes.

"How did you like the weekend so far?"

"A lot, much more than I thought," I admit.

"Great," he grins, "me, too. I 'd suggest that we meet on Wednesday evening to talk about the next weekend, if that's okay with you."

In my mind I go through my appointment calendar. "Should work, Joe. Eight at Manzini's?"

"Sounds good. Do we need a reservation?"

"Not on a Wednesday usually, but I'll call ahead anyway," I commit.

"I have another suggestion, too," Joe continues. "I won't stay over tonight. I have to do a lot of think-ing, and I'm sure so do you."

I nod. "True. I'm glad you asked because I didn't really want to kick you out – not after all this awe-some sex and fun."

"Need some sex now, Rebecca?"

I don't have to think for long about that. "Always. I just don't know any more how to get through my workday without your hands."

Joe stands up and gently pulls me up, too. His mouth keeps mine busy while his fingers open the zipper, pull my pants down, then my panties, and find me.

Right there on the hiking trail!

I give in to the temptation fast, what the hell if someone comes! We haven't seen a single person for hours anyway ...

Joe surprises me again though. He gets me really horny, almost ready to come, but in the last second he pulls his fingers back, just lifts me up into his arms, and carries me behind a big Redwood. He gently pulls his pants and underpants down, too, spreads his jacket on the soft ground, and leans against the tree. He pulls a condom out of his pocket.

"Want, Rebecca?"

I nod, and he puts the condom on his male part, which consistency is already more than satisfying. I kneel down and, on my knees, slowly walk over him. Joe gently guides me and, holding me around my waist, gently lowers me over him.

His mouth finds mine again ...

"I've never done something like this before," I whisper in his ear.

"Me neither," he whispers back, "but I'd do it again any time."

"What's about now?" I take him up on this.

"You'll have to work a little bit, I guess," he admits. "But give it a shot."

"If you take off my boots and socks," I suggest. "Maybe my pants and panties, too."

It doesn't take my nimble toes for long to bring him up to speed again. I even roll the next condom on him.

The next orgasm is as good as the first one!

We turn around then for the long way back to the parking lot.

Deep in my heart there was a small fear that Joe would just leave me tied up in my apartment, but he shows me that I can trust him.

What a weekend, I think lying in bed exhausted, but very happy. Oh, please, let this work out with Joe!

The following weekend I'll have to take work home, and I ask Joe on Wednesday if he'd rather skip it not to make it count towards the twenty-five. He declines though when I tell him that it won't take me more than a few hours.

"Okay, the rest of the weekend you'll be my slave, Rebecca."

I'm a little bit startled because this sounds bad. He interprets the impression in my face correctly, because he shakes his head. "Don't worry, what I have in mind is putting you to work while you're tied up. Aside from your paperwork there might be housework to do."

I grin relieved. "Cool, I already like the challenge."

He said he'll try to come to my place as early as six, but he wasn't sure if he'll get away in time.

"Fine, I'll be home after five thirty."

Almost seven on Friday evening.

What if he got second thoughts, I think. What if ...

I'm suddenly becoming aware how deeply involved I already am. I have started with some work, but I'm too distracted to get far.

Finally, twenty past seven, the bell rings, and I buzz him in.

Joe obviously didn't have time to change clothes, but he's carrying a bag.

"Sorry, Rebecca," he hugs me, "but I had to clean up a mess that one of my workers left today. But now I'm all yours."

"I thought the other way round," I joke.

"Hm, well, you know, a master slave relationship goes both ways," he smiles. "You'll see. Did you have dinner already?"

I shake my head. "I thought we'll have it together."

"Good, because I brought steaks, potatoes, and salad. Let me get the necessary accessories for my weekend slave."

He knows my toy chest already very well, I think, when he returns with a black leather straitjacket that, like I know, was on the very bottom. Another one of my toys, custom-made and custom-sized for my body, which, for given design reasons, I have never been able to figure out how to put on myself.

Joe strips me naked and first has a lot of fun with this, then with all the buckles. Finally I'm trussed up with not an inch to give for moving my arms because, in addition to the tight fit around my chest and waist, which Joe has pulled to the last notch, I've added some perks to the usual design of a Posey. The vertical front strap across me forearms buckles up, too, to make it really tight. In addition there are two straps that start in front just above my breasts, then they go on both sides across my upper arms, through loops in the back, where they buckle together. Means, my forearms are strapped to my chest, and my upper arms are secured to my sides. Joe has also made sure that there isn't half an inch of give in my crotch strap.

"Good job, Joe, I love it this tight," I beam at him.

"Okay, let's start cooking then," Joe grins. "I got your favorite, ribeye steaks."

This time is serious, I realize fast. Joe won't help me more than absolutely necessary, so I have to use my feet and my mouth now. My hands and arms are completely useless, if not even in the way. This time I won't be able to use my hands on my side.

But I know I can do this with his help.

Joe gets the necessary supplies from the cabinets and the fridge, like knives and forks, butter, the pan, and so on.

While he puts his video camera on a tripod in place, I get comfortable on the raised part of the breakfast bar so that I can work freely with my feet. I ask Joe to wipe my toes with a wet paper towel.

He goes further though. He lifts me down and carries me over to the sink, where he thoroughly washes my feet and every single toe with hand soap.

"That feels sooooo goooood," it must sound like I'm purring like a cat since I love his attention for my feet.

"I have a challenge, Rebecca," Joe smiles, "what do you think about tomato egg salad?"

"I'll try," I answer immediately despite I don't feel that confident.

Of course, I have to climb back onto the bar first. I wonder if this was part of the idea, I think, be-cause this time he videotapes my exercise.

Joe washes the tomatoes, and I slice them. So far, so good, but peeling the eggs is a real challenge. It seems like it takes me forever. I furtively look at Joe watching me, and I see the delight in his eyes.

That's worth the trouble, I think. He's having as much fun as I do!

I slice the peeled eggs, and Joe puts them into the big glass bowl together with the tomatoes. I sea-son with salt, vinegar, olive oil, and some mustard, my personal touch, then I dress the salad.

Joe puts the pan on the stove, I unwrap the butter, cut off a piece using a knife, and put it in the pan. Joe turns on the burner. Meanwhile I take the plastic wrap off the steaks and season them. I poke them with a fork to put them in the pan when the butter is hot and check the clock that I know when to turn them. Meanwhile Joe has put the washed potatoes in front of me. I use the same knife to poke holes into them, then Joe puts them in the microwave. I turn the steaks several times while the pota-toes get ready.

Joe sets the table in between and carries all the food over.

I expected him to ask me to eat with my feet, but instead he feeds me – very lovingly, with plenty of kissing in between bites.

Which gets me even more moist, of course, than just having my arms secured so nicely in my strait-jacket, but this doesn't seem to be on his agenda for now. And since I'm his slave for this weekend I don't ask either.

After dinner Joe suggests to do the typing for my office. "I also brought work for about half an hour," he admits, "it's just some calculations. Get started, and I'll be with you soon. You said it'd take you several hours?"

"At least three," I answer. "I have never done that much typing with my toes."

"It's fine, Rebecca," he smiles, "I'll have fun no matter how long it takes!"

"I'm convinced about that," I grin, and we both laugh.

I go to my office, and set up my workstation, which only encompasses putting the keyboard and the mouse on the floor in a convenient location that I can see the screen at the same time.

Progress is slow though. I'm a little out of practice with this, I realize, since I haven't typed with my feet for a long time.

Joe shows up soon and videotapes me from several angles.

Finally I'm done and turn off my computer. "What do you have in mind for me now, Joe?"

"Spoiling me a little. Isn't this what slaves are supposed to do?"

"Guess so, Master."

"First we have to add some stuff here though," Joe announces. "Wait here."

He returns with a two-inch leather collar, which he buckles around my neck and hooks a leash in the back. A ring gag follows, which lets me guess what he has in mind.

Then he uses a pair of ankle to thigh cuffs to render my legs worthless. They are my custom design, too, because in addition to the padlocked three-inch black leather cuffs around my ankles and thighs both my feet are stuck into pouches, which are attached to the cuffs. Their toe ends feature a strap, which Joe uses to attach them to convenient straps in the back of my straitjacket.

"Let's go to the bedroom now. Try to walk on your knees, I'll support you, Rebecca."

Joe is gentle. He uses one of the straps in the back of my straitjacket to help me up onto my knees, where I'm able to maintain a precarious balance. It's not easy since I can't use my arms to counter-balance either. Joe supports me well though, and we make slow progress towards the bedroom.

He lifts me onto the bed and gets into position. Joe knows what I enjoy, and I already know that he enjoys it, too. I swallow like a good slave would do.

"It's late, and there's a lot of work waiting for you tomorrow, so lets go to bed, Rebecca," Joe de-cides. "First, we need to clean your teeth though, that means you have to walk to the bathroom."

More knee-walking, but I'm getting the hang of it now, especially since Joe's really good at helping me to maintain my balance. He brushes my teeth and releases the crotch strap for a few minutes that I can go to the bathroom.

Back in the bedroom Joe removes the ankle to thigh cuffs, but insists that I sleep in the straitjacket.

"Great." I grin, "I'd have suggested that anyway. Goodnight kiss?"

"Of course."

It turns into an extended French, which causes Joe to push his fingers underneath my crotch strap and play until I come.

"Good night, Rebecca."

"Good night, Joe."

I fall asleep happy after another great evening with my recently found partner in bondage. Yes, I have to admit to myself – if not to Joe – that I'm almost convinced that he's the one.

Saturday morning Joe wakes me up. "Get up, Rebecca, there's work to do."

I'm still sleepy, but releasing the crotch strap and Joe's tongue in me wakes me up fast. Well, it doesn't only wake me up, it makes me climax, too.

No breakfast right now, I figure out fast when Joe digs up my triple cuff – how I call it. It has three openings, one for my neck and two for my wrists, arranged in such a small circle that my thumbs touch my cheeks.

"Vacuuming time now, Rebecca."

Joe gets my Dyson, and I vacuum my apartment for over three hours until Joe finally relents. I must have vacuumed every square inch at least five times, I think. The nice thing is that Joe has prepared and set the table for breakfast in between.

He doesn't feed me because with the triple cuff I can eat myself.

This is going to be an exercise-intensive weekend, I think when Joe announces after breakfast: "I think your bed linen needs changing, Rebecca. I'll get the necessary supplies that you can start work-ing on it."

He takes off the triple cuff and uses the same ankle to thigh cuffs again with the only difference that the foot pouches get strapped to a soft two-inch black leather waist belt, which Joe padlocks in the back. He adds an equally wide and equally comfortably soft collar with another padlock around my neck, which he doesn't close yet. A leather cuff with a third padlock goes around my left wrist. He closes it, attaching a short piece of chain to it.

"Please, put your arm in your back."

I oblige, and Joe pulls my hand up between my shoulder blades.

"Please, tell me when it's too much, Rebecca."

"Go slow, I can take a little bit more ... now, that's enough!"

The collar padlock clicks shut around the other end of the chain, thoroughly trapping my left arm in my back between my shoulderblades.

"Have fun," Joe smiles. He knows perfectly well that I will, I think.

Joe videotapes my progress how I slowly work my way, 'three-legging' on both knees and one hand, towards the bedroom.

I pull the blankets and pillows off to the floor and try to do the same with the sheets, but I can't do it with one hand from my position sitting in front of my bed. I have to get up. I pull myself up to stand on my knees again, I lift my right thigh up onto the bed, get a hold, pull myself up, the other leg follows. I'm sitting on the bed now. I pull both sheets, the fitted and the flat one, out from underneath the mat-tress and throw them off the bed, too. I lower myself to the floor again and pick up the laundry basket from the bathroom. I remove their covers from the pillows, collect all the laundry, put it in the basket, and work my way to the laundry, which is located in the hallway behind bifold doors.

I'm really glad now that I have a front-load washer, I think, when I put the laundry inside. I add de-tergent, having to stand on my knees again to reach it, and turn the washer on.

"What's next?" I ask Joe.

"You got over two hours until the laundry is done," he states. "I'll load the dryer when the washer is through. I guess you should do some dusting meanwhile."

Somehow I have an idea that this won't be as easy as it sounds. But do I really want to have it easy? I'm having a really good time because housework has never been so much fun!

Joe takes off the ankle to thigh cuffs and replaces them with a twelve-inch spreader bar. He also re-leases my arm from between my shoulder blades, but when I see what he has in mind my heart sinks a little. That really won't be easy, I think.

Joe uses my most elaborate wrist to shoulder cuffs. In essence they are single glove armbinders, only there is one for each arm. First though, thick padlocked mittens trap my hands, then I put my hands to my shoulders, and, one after the other, Joe pulls the armbinders upward until my elbows hit the bottom ends. He laces both armbinders tight and to the mittens as well. The mittens' finger ends feature straps, which he buckles together behind my neck. He uses the D-rings at the armbinders' el-bow ends to padlock them to my waist belt. Both my arms are wedged to my sides with just a little give.

He puts the featherduster on the kitchen table. "Have fun, Rebecca. I'm sure I will while watching you. If you do well, I'll reward you, otherwise we'll repeat the vacuuming."

Oh geez, that's an incentive, I think. I'm positive I know what the reward would be!

Okay, how to do this? Somehow I don't think that it's Joe's idea that I would use my mouth ...

Yes! I use my right foot to hold the duster on the table while I slowly push the handle in the tiny gap between my left side and my upper arm in armpit height. Ready to go.

For the next two hours I go through my apartment and dust everything in reach, not really caring that it's more or less moving the dust from one spot to the other. I glance furtively at Joe in between, and I can see at the shine in his eyes that he enjoys it as much as I do.

The dryer cycle is finished.

"Before you go back to the bedroom, Rebecca, I'd like to give you your reward," Joe smiles. "Ready?"

Of course, I am. Joe kneels down in front of me, and his fingers start working on me. It really doesn't take long to set me off, just the fact that my arms have been so severely restrained all the time has kept me in a permanent state of arousal.

To spread the sheets back over the bed and put the covers on the pillows Joe releases my right arm. It's slow, but it works.

Proudly I look at Joe. "What's next?"

"Cleaning the kitchen floor, I think. That should be a little more difficult for you, Rebecca."

Somehow this doesn't sound good – and sounds good at the same time because it promises to be very challenging. And I love a good challenge!

First I get gel kneepads. Standard-type padlocked black leather ankle to thigh cuffs without foot pouches will make it possible for me to 'walk' on my knees and toes, but Joe has also found my other single glove armbinder. Obediently I put my hands together in my back that he can slide it up my arms. He pulls both straps around my shoulders to make them meet between my shoulder blades and buckles them to the third strap coming up. He pulls pretty tight, just the way I love it.

"I guess we'll keep this on you for the rest of the day and tonight," Joe informs me while he's lacing up one of my favorite restraints. "When you're done with the floor I'll make dinner."

"We're not done yet though," Joe continues. "You might enjoy some distraction during this boring task."

His finger-test reveals to him that he doesn't need to lubricate the dildo to insert it in me. Armbinders get me moist fast - as soon as they are on me. In good judgment he puts a medium-sized feminine napkin over my crotch before he completes the job. He uses the armbinder's D-ring to attach a two-inch leather strap, pulls it over my crotch to hold the dildo in, and padlocks the end to my waistbelt. Which has the beneficial side effect that my arms and hands are really out of commission now being trapped on my back.

The bummer is to come yet. My kitchen floor is ceramic tiles, "which require wet cleaning," Joe states. He fills a bucket with water and adds cleaning solution. While I'm still trying to figure out how I'm supposed to hold the rag, Joe returns with several pairs of my panties, a roll of duct tape – and a small bottlebrush.

He wraps the panties around the bottlebrush's handle to make a suitably sized gag, which he secures with duct tape in my mouth.

Looks like he has killed two birds with one stone, I think. It will take me a long time to finish this task, and I can't even complain. Not that I would do the latter, I'm a good slave, and I love and obey my master. Not to mention that he randomly turns the dildo on and off.

Never long enough on for me to come. Nevertheless it prolongs the time to finish my task consider-ably.

It turns out to be a major exercise in addition. Crawling over the kitchen floor on my knees and toes, my arms snugly tucked away in the armbinder, gagged with my own panties and a bottlebrush handle, using that same bottlebrush to clean the kitchen floor.

I'm actually thankful for the crotch strap and the napkin, I think, otherwise I'd never get this done. I'd just have to start all over when I'm through.

Finally though ...

"Looks good, Rebecca," Joe smiles while he takes the bottlebrush-panties gag out of my mouth. "My turn to take care of you now. I brought Hawaiian pizza from Abby's, which I only need to bake. How's about you work your way to the living room in between and get comfy on the couch?"

This dinner is hard-earned, I think, while I'm climbing onto the couch.

While the pizza is baking, Joe releases my legs to make me comfortable.

Joe feeds me in between plenty of kissing – and nipple-play. Which makes me come twice during the meal, one of the best dinners I've ever had.

"What do you have in mind for the rest of the evening, Joe?" I try to find out when I've regained my breath after the second orgasm.

"What's about some talking first, Rebecca?" Joe asks when I'm sitting beside him, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm around my back. "I'd like to know from you what you think about my little plan so far."

I laugh. "Not so little at all. And, I think you know, Joe," I continue softly, "that I tremendously enjoy this. You're hitting my most secret fantasies, some of them I'm barely aware of myself. Yes, I want to continue with this, and I promise that I'll do everything to make you as happy as I am. What's about right now, for instance? Looks like you could use a treatment."

"What's about a mutual treatment?"

I smile. "Even better."

Joe picks up a condom to have it ready. He takes off my waistbelt, the crotch strap, and the dripping wet feminine napkin, then he slowly pulls the dildo. I get in position to be able to use my toes to bring him up to speed. Of course, it doesn't take long. I've seen that it has made Joe horny to watch me struggling tied up all day long. He puts the condom on the tip, and my toes roll it on. I face him and slowly walk over him on my knees. Joe guides me in and holds me to slowly lower me until he's deep inside me. We move together rhythmically and share an incredible climax together.

I kiss him, and he responds eagerly. When we part I suggest having a fun evening on the couch. I sit down, and Joe lies down comfortably with his head in my lap.

"I'm having the time of my life," I admit. "I'm so happy that you wrote that note."

"You can't be more happy that I am," he grins.

"Well, let's say it's a toss, how's that?" I suggest.

"Deal!"

We talk through the rest of the evening, Everything from old family stories to political views. I tell him that I volunteered at Parker, MacGyver, and Smith to take pro bono cases. Not because of the good advertisement for the firm, but because I honestly want to help people who got screwed over. Joe tells me that there are a lot of bad contractors out there, too, who are just into the quick money. He agrees to send their victims to me if he meets somebody.

This is easily the best conversation I've ever had in my life. Relaxed, being able to talk about every-thing including intimate things I've never dared to tell anybody else, interrupted – well, not interrupted, but sweetened – by loving kisses, my man and his warmth so close to me, I can smell his hair ...

"Can I keep the armbinder for the night?"

"You love it, don't you, Rebecca?"

I nod. "Oh yes, I'd go to work tied up if I could."

"Maybe we can arrange that," Joe suggests.

I frown. "Huh?"

"Yes, what do you think about casts? We could put one of your legs and an arm in a cast, which would give you a good excuse for several weeks. Not anytime soon, but maybe in a few months. Think about it."

I don't comment now, but I know that I'll mull the thought around in my mind until I've made a deci-sion.

I fall asleep with my head on Joe's shoulder after we've kissed goodnight. Well, not really that, but rather Joe's tongue on my nipples gave me another climax.

As a night owl waking up in the morning has never been my favorite, but doing so in Joe's arms with, in addition, my arms tucked away in my armbinder is just great.

Sometime during the night he has shifted and wrapped both arms around me, facing me now. I kiss him, not with the intention of waking him up, but because I love the feel of his soft beard.

Ten minutes later he wakes up, and I whisper in his ear: "Joe. Since I'm your slavegirl for this week-end, may I please you for today in any way I can think of?"

Only half awake he answers, "I'd love that."

I decide to start right now, and my mouth finds him. He's a worse nightowl than I am, I think, be-cause it takes me unusually long to get Joe up to consistency. But finally ...

I need something else to eat eventually, I think, this doesn't taste that great – despite I don't mind usually. Maybe the less than pleasing taste has to do with the too early time of the day for me, too?

Either way, I start kissing Joe, and he responds eagerly now. We French kiss for a long time while my left foot is playing with him.

I use both feet now, and he comes fast. On the clean sheets, but what the heck. We're both having fun!

Well, this is great so far. I remember when Joe tried to give me as many orgasms as he could, so why not trying the other way round?

"What's about breakfast now?" I suggest. "My turn. You can sleep a while longer."

Of course, he doesn't follow my suggestion, instead he videotapes me preparing breakfast all on my own with my arms still in the armbinder. It takes a while, but my toes start remembering how to do things as I go along. I wonder if the real trigger for my bondage obsession is the time when I was ten? I broke both arms when I fell off a tree and had them in a cast for six weeks. Since I didn't want to ask my mother for everything I tried doing things with my feet and toes – and after six weeks I was pretty good. Later on it went along with my selfbondage sessions, so I stayed in practice most of the time.

I eat with my feet this time. In addition I feed Joe, which he enjoys tremendously.

Now I'm going to try something, I decide spontaneously. I really want to find out if Joe trusts me as much as I trust him.

"Joe, would you mind being tied up while I'm spoiling you today?"

He shakes his head, almost without thinking, which I take as a good sign that our relationship has advanced to a good level of mutual trust. "What do you have in mind?"

"Spread-eagle in bed," I suggest. "Gives me full access while you're comfy."

"Sounds good," he agrees, "so let me get the accessories."

He chooses hand and ankle cuffs. He puts the keys on the nightstand and clicks himself in place.

I get busy. I'm aware of that he can't come as often as I can because he's a guy, but I'm positive that I can keep him in a state of more or less permanent arousal. I use everything I got at my disposal, means every part of my body that's not tied up.

I kiss and lick his body all over. I use my feet to caress Joe from head to toes and back. My thighs brush him on all sensitive spots. My long nipples wander over his face, his chest, his thighs, his male part ...

My well-meant plan kind of backfires when I walk over his face to rub my thick pubic hair against his mouth because his teeth catch my clit and start nibbling – with an easy predictable result.

"That wasn't the idea," I pretend pouting after I've regained my breath. "I'm supposed to spoil you today."

"This does spoil me," he answers seriously, "because making you happy is very important for me. Remember, Rebecca, what I said earlier? DS relationships with or without power change still go both ways. You take care of me, I take care of you."

Joe does come several times though.

Me, too.

The result is that both of us get cummy for given reasons and sweaty due to the exercise.

I release Joe that we can take a shower together. Joe chooses a stainless steel yoke, which he closes tight around my wrists, but fairly loose around my neck. No ankle cuffs.

Needless to say that I don't get the short end out of this arrangement.


Author's Comments

This was supposed to be the beginning of a longer story, but in between my private situation has changed. So I don't know if it ever will be continued or even finished.

Maybe, somebody else wants to add something?

Here are some of the ideas I had for their future weekends.

- Role-play. Joe as a plain-clothes cop arrests Rebecca as a criminal in public

- Challenge. Joe fixes up a car that Rebecca has to drive with her arms in a Venus-de-Milo corset

- Close together. They spend an entire weekend tied together

- Carry over to their workplace. Rebecca goes to her office in a cast

Have fun!

Joe wood