Bound Ankles

1 A Girl Happy in Her Bondage

A late summer breeze rustled the leaves of the trees in Jan’s garden, stirred the grass restlessly, and teased the bare skin of the girl bound to one of those trees. Donna was her name, a healthy young lass of eighteen summers, a wonderful figure that both men and women lusted after, and a face that radiated sweetness and innocence. Donna was also the full time slavegirl and captive of a girl only a little older than herself, her Aunt Janet. And she loved it, being, by nature, a very submissive female much given to love of tight cords binding her body, chains holding her prisoner, and an occasional whipping. Just to keep her in her place and provide a tonic that wakes up the whole system.

That day the twins had been kind to Donna—none of their usual painfully tight, contorted bondage. For that lazy California afternoon, as summer slid quietly into autumn, they had simply bound her hands crossed behind the tree trunk, crossed and tightly knotted but not too uncomfortable, and left the leg irons shackled on her ankles. She could stand, even move her legs a bit, or sit down, although regaining her feet proved difficult but not impossible.

The scene was idyllic. The bright sun to warm her golden skin and a gentle summer breeze to cool her, and the tiny sounds of the forest to entertain her. She had studied the sounds around her, there not being much else to do for a naked girl bound to a tree and all alone, and found there to be a great many. There was the rustle of leaves as they touched one another. There was a constant but varying medley of bird song from near and far. There was even, later in the afternoon when the breeze usually increased, the sighing of wind in the pines. She liked that sound, it reminded her of happy times as a child living in a small Northern California town and playing among the pines everyday. There were insect sounds and an occasional tiny roar of airliners so high above her that they were only specks drawing white lines across the sky. Donna sighed with happiness.

And she was content. She was once again the captive of her beloved “Auntie Jan” and her two daughters, the irrepressible Pip and Patsy, all of whom she loved deeply. She was once again the constant prisoner she had come to understand she wanted to be. She was always bound in some way, handcuffs, chains, leg irons, or the ever-present ropes. Sometimes a week or two went by with her wrists crossed and bound behind her back every second of every day. She became used to it, it was a way of life that suited this beautiful young woman.

Every time she was tied to a tree, a favorite pastime of the twins who loved to leave Donna helpless in the garden while they went off to school, uttering complaints and protests about it being a waste of time, she remembered the first time she had ever been bound. It had been the twins then too, who had caught the unsuspecting Donna in what she thought of at the time as an innocent child’s game. But when the ropes tightened down beyond what a silly game should entail, she wondered. And when the twins refused to release her, she protested. And when they tugged and tore her clothes off, leaving her a naked and completely helpless captive, she knew something was seriously wrong. Then the true nature of the adorable twins came out: their love of torturing helpless naked females. She shuddered with an erotic thrill at the memory of the clips they often attached to her nipples to make them burn with relentless fire. And there was the burning of her bottom whenever the twins took to whipping her bottom with riding crops and straps. For thirteen year old girls, they certainly knew a lot about sexually exciting and torturing a full grown female.

But their lovely mother, Jan, kept them in line and from doing any serious harm to Donna. Her own interests in Donna leaned towards keeping her naked and bound up, occasionally inflicting mild tortures of her own, but mostly playing the games of Lesbos in the privacy of her bedroom where Donna usually slept. In their lovemaking, and Donna had become quite proficient at it under Jan’s training, Donna’s hands were always bound behind her back, a condition that hampered her not at all. She more than made up for lack of hands with a talented tongue and lips.

And sometimes, while passing boring hours in tight bondage among the trees and bushes, she remembered those two people who had both briefly owned her, the fearsome and cruel Margaret Summers and the dashing and handsome Nigel Bransome. Introduced to Donna by Jan, and being a former friend of Aunt Janet’s, Margaret Summers had kidnapped Donna, tortured her for the fun of it, and planned to keep her forever. She had also kidnapped Donna’s beloved Jan, inflicted considerable pain upon her, then turned her over to that cad Nigel who also loved to whip naked girls then ravish them afterwards. But Nigel, not content with just Jan, had kidnapped Donna from under the nose of the cruel Margaret. With a giggle, Donna remembered that evening in Jan’s ‘big room’ under the house, more of a dungeon than anything else, when she had ended their captivity to Nigel by bonking him over the head with an empty champagne bottle. The girls had left him in his car several blocks from their house to awaken with a frightful headache and, hopefully, a lesson learned about messing with Jan and her girls.

In the weeks that followed that memorable incident, she often wondered about Nigel and the evil Margaret. They had not been heard from but she wondered if they would give up. Both of them had expressed a deep longing to possess her body, and both felt that they had a right to do so. Jan had installed a new security system but Donna could only hope that it would be enough. Nigel was cunning with the instincts of a male hunting his prey. And Margaret had a great deal of money and the power it brings. Either of them could mean trouble in the future.

But today was a warm and pleasant day, with no problems or troubles, and Donna was enjoying it. As she blew a stray ant off her left nipple, an occupational hazard one gets used to when one spends a lot of time tied to trees, she knew herself a contented slavegirl. She was not aware of the evil eyes watching from the cover of dense bushes across the clearing.

The crack of a riding crop against bare female flesh resounded throughout the big dungeon, followed immediately by a squeal of pain. “I just love the way she jerks and cries out when the riding crop hits,” said Pip with considerable sincerity.

“It is rather nice,” agreed Patsy. Both girls were holding riding crops, standing on either side of the hanging Donna, and taking turns applying their instruments of pain across the bare flesh of her nicely rounded bottom. Donna, completely naked as usual, was hanging by her wrists which were strapped tightly with leather bands. Her toes were perhaps an inch off the floor, close enough to be frustrating but far enough so she couldn’t touch the floor. With each impact of the riding crop, her body jerked and she danced a few steps in mid-air before the calmed down. Then her body would slowly sway back and forth while awaiting the next blow from the giggling teenagers.

“You really shouldn’t have refused to crawl back to the house,” offered Pip. “Mommy says we can whip you for disobedience. You were disobedient.”

“Yes, you were so bad,” chipped in Patsy. Both girls were in high spirits. They didn’t often get a chance to whip Donna and they did love it so. Since Donna was so very submissive, they had to set traps for her to fall into. In this case she balked at having to crawl a long way back to the house. Actually she hadn’t refused, just uttered a protest that it was hard to crawl when your hands were tied behind your back and your legs were tied together at the ankles and again, cruelly tight, above the knees. The girls reasonably pointed out that it could be worse, she might have been hogtied! But getting her to protest was enough. They untied her legs and immediately led her to the basement dungeon to string her up and lash into her tender flesh.

Donna didn’t bother to deny wrong-doing. She just sighed and awaited the next stroke. She knew well the traps the twins set for her. She avoided what she could see coming but more often than not fell into the worst ones. But the twins knew full well that if they got to whipping her bottom too much, even if in response to refusals, protests, and sarcasms, their mother would step in to prevent Donna from being hurt too much. They all loved Donna terribly and didn’t want to see her seriously hurt. It’s just that the twins did so love to whip her bottom...

Donna, as was often the case, had lost count of the number of strokes the twins had given her. Her educated guess was twenty, and she had a lot of education to base that upon. She whined and bit back a plead that they might stop this painful punishment of an innocent girl. To utter it would give them added fuel for the fire in her bottom. There were very few rules in Jan’s house; no escape attempts, no protesting anything done to you, and no pleading for mercy. And some general stuff about sarcasm, disobedience, and the like. But the rule that was important now was the one forbidding her from pleading. She was sure the twins knew exactly how much they could mark up her bottom before their mother drew the line and punished them for harming their pet slavegirl. But if she broke any more rules, the twins would have reason to give her some more and it would be half justified to Jan. So Donna held back her words and suffered.

They stopped after twenty-six strokes. You usually got an even number of strokes when two twins were involved. Giggling, they went off in search of other pursuits, leaving the naked Donna hanging by her wrists and with a very sore bottom. Donna hung her head and sighed. Her bottom was on fire and she knew there would be angry red marks all over it, if she could only see it. She cried a little as she swayed slowly back and forth. But she forgave the twins. It was simply their nature to enjoy giving her pain. Just as it was her nature to receive it. Jan had called her a natural-born submissive. Donna hadn’t known what that meant at first but came to an understanding that she was a girl who needed to be kept in constant restraints and used by those who enjoyed tormenting naked girls.

The girls came back later and let Donna down. She was very glad to have her feet reach the floor.

Later that night, Donna, naked and with her hands crossed and bound behind her back, was taken to Jan’s bedroom, led by a short piece of rope tied to the ring of the slender metal collar Donna always wore. In the bedroom, Jan untied the leash and pushed Donna playfully onto the huge bed. Tossing off the sheer black baby-doll nightie, Jan joined her slavegirl on the cool red Satin sheets. She pushed Donna over on to her stomach, then straddled her legs and thighs, pinning the girl with tied hands to the bed. Then she leaned forward, slipped hands around Donna to cup the more than ample breasts quite firmly. Donna moaned as Jan pressed her body against the freshly marked up bottom but said nothing. Jan ignored the moan and began kneading the flesh in a way that quickly had Donna moaning with pleasure. Then she drew back, forced Donna’s legs wide apart and placed herself in a kneeling position between the legs, preventing them from closing and placing her in a very good position to tease Donna’s sex. And tease she did until she had the slavegirl gasping and wiggling, Soon Donna’s hips were pushing back as if to impale her sex harder on the fingers that were just inside her vagina. But Jan suddenly withdrew her hand and, with a laugh, slapped Donna hard across the bottom cheeks.

Donna gasped with pain for the open palmed slap had found already tenderized flesh and set new stinging fire to bum her ass. A couple more slaps had the bound girl wiggling harder, Then the teasing hand and very skilled fingers evoked new gasps of pleasure. Jan alternated playing with her slavegirl until the lovely girl was very excited and burned with lust. Then she pushed Donna aside, took her place in the center of the bed and spread her legs wide. Donna, without being told to, crawled between her mistress’ legs and buried her face in the sex of the girl she loved.

It did not matter to Donna that it was her tongue that drove her mistress into spasms of pleasure and a very satisfactory orgasm while Donna’s own pussy ached for satisfaction. All that mattered was her beloved mistress. If Jan had ordered her to give pleasure all night while denying her own, Donna would do her best to make it so. It was frustrating and a form of torture for the slavegirl to be so horny and unable to even touch herself. But it was a beautiful torture and Donna loved every minute of it.

After a second orgasm for the mistress, Jan took pity on her slavegirl She fetched a length of rope, turned Donna back onto her stomach, and tied her ankles tightly together. Then she tied the rope up to her bound hands and pulled tight, forcing Donna into a hogtied. Donna moaned for she feared being left in the hogtie all night as her mistress had done in times past. But it was not to be that way. Instead, Jan fetched a big vibrator, one over twelve inches long and very powerful, one not meant for mere batteries, plugged it’s cord Into a wall socket, and pushed it hard up between Donna’s legs as she lay on her stomach. With her knees not bound, Donna could separate her legs some to allow the vibrator to reach her sensitive place, With a gasp from the hogtied girl, the vibrator pressed right into Donna’s pussy. Quickly her breathing increased to a pant, her gasps turned to moans and whines of pleasure, and, after only a minute, she exploded into a violent climax accompanied by a mini-scream. She quickly bit the pillow but her body arched wildly within the hogtie then trembled with pure ecstasy for a long time.

When Donna came back down to earth, she found herself lying on the carpet at the foot of Jan’s bed, shackled by a short chain and padlock from her collar to one of the rings in the bed, and still hogtied. She didn’t care. With a sigh of satisfaction, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

The next night Jan, for whatever reason, did not want Donna in her bed. Mistresses don’t have to give reasons for their actions and Jan gave Donna none. At bedtime the twins left Donna sitting on the bench in her little cage down in the basement room that all of them thought of as “The Dungeon”, although Jan didn’t like to openly call it that. Jan was also the only one who didn’t use the word “Torture” for some of the things the twins did to their resident slavegirl. But Donna called the whippings and having to ride the Horse torture, and few would argue with her. They did hurt a hell of a lot even if no damage was done.

Donna, naked as usual, she never got to wear clothes anymore, had her hands bound behind her back with skillfully applied rope. She knew there was no hope of her ever working her hands free from those ropes, no escape. She would still be in her cage, still bound, when the morning came and either the twins or Aunt Janet herself came to take her off to a bath and breakfast. She had come to enjoy those baths in warm, scented water, often with lots of bubbles. And the loving hands of Jan or the twins to attend to her cleaning, usually with more attention to the sexual parts than strictly needed for proper cleanliness. Donna sighed and tried to find a comfortable position on the hard wood bench, a nightly task and an impossible one. She much preferred those nights when she shared the warm and loving bed of Jan.

Donna curled up as best she could and drifted off into dreams of never-ending whippings, endless hours of riding the painful Horse, and the wonderful smell of her mistress’ hot pussy. She was not aware of powerful forces gathering outside the safety of Jan’s home, forces that would soon intrude on the idyllic existence of the four girls who lived there. As Donna slept, sinister black figures crept through the bushes.