I come up, gasp for air, and finally notice I’m shivering. I have goose bumps all over my arms. Angie does too, and her lips are blue. Even the man’s lips are blue. They are showing through the mouth hole in his mask.
“Time to get out,” he says, and he lifts us out of the pool.
We roll onto the grass beside it where the towels are. We don’t bother to get up. We grab towels and start rubbing. The man in the mask hops out and does so too.
It’s not long before the July morning air and the July morning sun have dried us off and cut the chill. The only thing wet is my long red hair. I start working it with the towel. Angie is doing the same with her dark hair and—does she look contented?
“Time to get a move on,” says the man.
He motions for us to face away.
“I haven’t finished drying my hair,” I protest. “I’ll look witchy.”
“I’m sure you will,” he says in that patronizing tone men get, the one that means, “I’m agreeing with you, but I don’t believe a word of what you’re saying.”
I sigh, wrap the towel around my hair, move from sitting to kneeling, and cross my wrists behind my back. In moments, I feel cords of rope looping around them, and they are tied together.
I test the ropes. They are soft and comfortable but unyielding. I won’t slip out with brute force, but maybe if I can twist my arms around. I feel more rope wrapping around my wrists, and then the man’s hands are sliding around from my back to my tummy. It tickles for a moment, and now there’s a pair of silvery nylon cords around my tummy holding my wrists tightly to my back. No chance of twisting out now.
The man reaches from behind me to undo the cords holding my knees together. His chest forces me to bend forward more as he reaches around me. I can smell him well now. He smells of fresh mountain stream. I hear him breathe, and I feel his chest and arm muscles ripple as his hands work the knot at my knees. I see that his hands really aren’t meaty. They’re thin, almost delicate. He unties the knot, and his hands stray back across my thighs, tummy, and breasts. It’s fast enough that I don’t have time to protest, but then I wasn’t in a hurry, either.
He ties up Angie the same way and unties her knees the same way, too. Does he like us both that much? Which of us does he like— What am I thinking! This creep is a kidnapper! I shake my head. I can’t do much more.
The man helps Angie up. She looks striking like that, with just a towel around her hair. Her legs are muscular but very trim, as is her tummy. I don’t know what men think, but I think her breasts look just the right size. They’re small and firm enough that they don’t droop but large enough to leave no doubt she’s not sixteen anymore.
The man helps me up, collects all our stuff from the poolside, and we all walk into the yurt.
This time, we go in without protest. The yurt’s skin is translucent, so there’s plenty of light. The air inside is warm and dry. Inside is a bed, a table, and three folding chairs.
The man comes up behind me and starts to undo some knots. “Who would like to fix brunch?” he asks.
I’m not about to! Angie says nothing, either. He sits me in one of the folding chairs, my arms behind the back, and then wraps the rope around my waist again. I can get up and move around, but now I have a chair attached to me.
He ties Angie to another chair in the same way and leaves us facing each other, our knees touching. He flops down on the bed. It’s a water bed! How did all this get here?
“I’m sleepy,” he says, and he starts pulling off his mask.
This time … nope, he’s got on some sort of thin, white, cotton or thin, white, silk mask under the rubber mask. But there can be no more!
I turn back to Angie, and she stares at me. I start testing my ropes, and she does the same. Quietly, I push. I pull. I explore how the ropes are wrapped around my wrists. I try twisting my wrists to get more leverage, but the waist rope keeps them from moving away from my body, down low, and out parallel.
Angie is doing the same, but she’s watching me hard. I stop. She blushes a bit and looks away. What! She was embarrassed to be watching me? What was she seeing? I look down at myself. I’m not bad-looking. I’d like my breasts to be a little perkier. I look back at her, and I sort of watch myself out of the corner of my eye as I struggle. My breasts and shoulders are bouncing and moving around. Angie’s watching again. I move my legs a little and rub her knees. Her eyes half close for a moment. She’s getting into this! My scared little companion seems to have found something interesting in this adventure after all!
|
I struggle a little more, but it’s mostly for show. Angie eats it up. I knock her knees again and play some footsie. She blushes again and then struggles in earnest. She’s really trying to get loose, and I can see why she liked watching me. There’s an interplay of rope, skin, arms, hair, and face, but she’s having no more success than I am. She looks at the man. He’s lying still on the water bed.
Very slowly, very quietly, Angie stands up. She lifts her chair as she stands, and it comes up noiselessly. I’m holding my breath. She tiptoes toward me, but she doesn’t try to come around behind me. She just comes beside me. Very carefully, she puts the chair down and sits in it. There’s just the slightest “tink” as our chairs touch. We look, but the man doesn’t move.
Angie’s face is now six inches from mine. Our arms are bound tightly behind us, but our legs and lips are free. Angie’s hair is still partly wrapped in the towel. She flicks her head, and the towel comes free. Her long, blond, wavy hair surrounds her face in a golden glow. She leans toward me.
It’s not the meek little teenager this time. I don’t know who it is! I find myself leaning toward Angie, and when our lips meet—
The thrill, the thrill. Oh, God, her lips are sweet! We pull apart for just a moment, and then our lips lock again. I close my eyes, and I press forward. My arms strain against the chair back as I do. I strain so hard it hurts. I can feel her excitement too. Angie slides a little closer in her chair. Our legs are now pressed together from knee to hip. Angie leans toward me. I can feel her chest heaving, her hips rocking, her breast touching my breast.
“Now I can see why I’m not getting any brunch.”
Oh, God! We turn to see the man sitting up in bed, staring at us. I can see through the mask that he’s got this shit-eating grin on his face. I struggle against my bonds once again in sheer frustration. I’ve got to get out of here! I get up and try to walk somewhere, but there’s nowhere to walk. Angie’s doing the same. We bump into each other and the walls and everything. The chairs are clattering around behind us, bumping our legs. It’s impossible!
The man in the mask laughs and laughs.
“Sit down, ladies,” he orders. What else can we do? We sit down.
“I trust today has proved something of a learning experience?”
“What are you going to do with us?” I ask.
I can feel the little muscle in my neck starting to tighten. I’m going to start crying in five seconds.
“Nothing until I’ve had brunch. Now would one of you ladies like to do the honors while the other gives me a back rub?”
“A back rub?” Angie and I say.
“A back rub,” he repeats.
Angie and I look at each other.
“I’ll get brunch,” she says.
What a friend! With friends like her—
“Okay,” I agree.
The man hobbles Angie, and then lets our arms free. Angie goes to the pack sitting on the table and finds sandwich fixings. I climb on the water bed behind the man sitting on the edge of the bed.
I’m behind him. My hands are free. My legs are free. I suppose I could bash him on the head or something. But somehow, I don’t feel like it. I simply start rubbing his shoulders like a good girl.
“Ouch!” he says.
Oops, I’ve grabbed his delts pretty hard. “Serves him right,” I think, but I guess he’s human, not totally weird or wired up. I feel his skin and muscles as I rub all over his back and neck. They feel good. He’s a healthy male probably in his twenties. Not hairy, either.
He’s relaxing under my touch and sort of leaning into it. He’s enjoying it. I suppose I could bash him now, but instead, I ask, “Why did you bring us up here?”
“Because I thought you would enjoy it,” he answers.
“What if we didn’t enjoy it?”
“Then you could leave,” he says.
I stop rubbing him, and Angie stops fixing.
“We can leave … right now?”
“You can … as soon as you finish brunch,” he says and points at Angie, “and you finish my back rub.” He reaches behind himself and tickles me. I dodge sideways and slap his hand off. As I’m dodging, he twists around the other way and grabs me by the waist and tips me down on the bed. Gosh, he’s fast! He slips his feet up on the bed over mine, rolls me on my back, and pins my arms to the bed, him on top of me.
His body feels good on mine. I don’t mind being pinned. His strong hands are holding my wrists. His chest is pressing against my breasts. His strong legs surround mine. His eyes are staring into mine.
All of a sudden, there’s a “humpf.” Something has landed on the man. It’s Angie.
“Oh, no, you don’t. You can’t get a back rub when she’s in front of you.”
Angie tickles him. He squirms. He tries to knock her off without unpinning me. She yelps; however, she’s determined to stay on top, and she keeps tickling him.
Finally, he lets me loose and grabs Angie. He pins her, but now it’s my turn! I jump on him and start tickling. Before you know it, we’ve got a free-for-all on the bed. Everyone is squirming and yelling and tickling everyone else.
Then I find I’m sitting on one of his arms, and Angie is sitting on the other. Angie is tickling him, and I … reach for his mask! He stiffens as I grasp the cloth behind his head, but he doesn’t resist. Angie stops tickling, and I slide the cloth off his head.
His face is young, moderately handsome, and … one I’ve seen before.
“I know you!” I say.
“Jamie Williams, drama society,” he says.
Yes, that’s where I’ve seen him.
“Why did you do this to us?”
“Because I’m a dramatist. I live my drama. I wanted to get to know you two, but just walking up and saying, “Hi,” was not going to be suitable. I wanted to introduce myself in a way that would move you and give you some insight into your own souls.”
He looks at us. “Have I succeeded?”
I look at Angie and smile. She looks at me and smiles.
“You have. Now turn over on your stomach. We’re going to give you some insight into your soul!”
Jamie smiles and does as he’s told. Angie hops off the bed to gather some rope. I sit on his rump and pull his arms behind him. As his arms slide behind him, I hear the faint moan of deep pleasure coming from Mr. Jamie Williams.
Angie pulls his ankles vertical and ties them together tight.
“Okay,” she says.
Using his crossed wrists as a pivot, I spin from sitting on his rump to sitting on his neck. His head slides sideways as I settle in, and I feel him breathing on my calf. Angie folds his bound ankles over his rump and sits on them. As I hold his arms together, Angie slips loop after loop around his wrists and then ties them off with a cinch. I take a final cord and loop it between his wrists and ankles and pull them tight together. The tables are completely turned. Jamie is now completely helpless in a tight hog-tie, and this day is far from over.
-- The End --