Peril in the movie
My neighbor is studying acting and asked me to help him practice a scene from an action movie where they had a girl tied up and gagged. I said yes. What he doesn't know is that I love being bound and gagged. What I didn't know was that there was no movie and he just wanted to keep me bound and gagged.
The doorbell chimed, piercing the tranquil scene, and I wiped my hands on my apron, my curiosity piqued. I hadn't expected any visitors. The sight that greeted me was a surprise: my young, good-looking neighbor with a script in hand and a hopeful smile. His dark hair was ruffled, as if he'd been reading the pages vigorously.
"Hey, Mrs." he called out, waving the script. "I'm practicing for an audition tomorrow and I could really use your help. It's a scene from an action movie, and I need someone to play the part of the hostage."
I, a am woman of hidden kinks and adventurous spirit, felt a thrill at the innocent request. I knew all too well the rush of adrenaline and the sweet taste of submission that came with being bound and gagged. The thought of him discovering my secret was exhilarating.
"Come in," I said with a smile, stepping aside to let him enter my well-kept living room. He walked in with a confidence that seemed to have grown from his rehearsals.
"So, the scene is pretty intense," he began, explaining the setup as we moved to a chair in the center of the room. "You'll be playing a hostage, and I'll be the hero trying to save you."
My heart raced as he pulled out a length of rope. "I've seen movies like this before," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Let's get started."
He secured my wrists behind the chair, tightening the knots just enough to keep me in place but not cause discomfort. His eyes held a glint of excitement, and I couldn't help but wonder if he had any inkling of what this was doing to me.
As he wrapped the rope around my ankles, I took in the sight of him, his biceps flexing with each pull. I felt the warmth spread through me, my anticipation growing. This was going to be better than any scene in a movie.
Finally, he produced a cloth. "I know it's not ideal, but it's what I have," he said, moving towards my mouth.
I nodded, my eyes wide with excitement. The moment he gagged me with the fabric, I was in my element, my body responding in ways he couldn't possibly understand. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Then he continue tying my ankles and knees, making sure I couldn't struggle or escape. He was meticulous, which only added to the thrill. Each knot felt like a declaration of his dominance, and every tug of the rope sent shivers up my legs. I could feel the fabric of my pantyhose stretch and conform to my skin, emphasizing the vulnerability of my situation.
He stepped back and took in the sight of me, bound and gagged, and he adds more ropes around my chest, waist and legs, pulling them tightly to ensure my white top couldn't rise up, exposing more than intended. I could feel the pressure of the ropes against my skin, and the tension between us grew thicker than the knots.
Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I felt his hands caressing my legs in npantyhose almost intentionally, as if he enjoyed the sight of me bound more than he let on. His eyes lingered on the curves of my body, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that he was in on my secret.
But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment of fantasy vanished when he spoke up, his voice cracking with nerves. "Alright, I think that's good. I'll run through the scene now."
My heart sank as he took a seat opposite me, holding the script like a lifeline. He began to read, his voice faltering at first, but soon growing stronger as he slipped into character. I sat, watching him with wide eyes, my breath hitching slightly with each movement of his body. The adrenaline rushing through me was palpable, and I could feel the dampness between my thighs.
"Hey, Mrs." he called out, waving the script. "I'm practicing for an audition tomorrow and I could really use your help. It's a scene from an action movie, and I need someone to play the part of the hostage."
I, a am woman of hidden kinks and adventurous spirit, felt a thrill at the innocent request. I knew all too well the rush of adrenaline and the sweet taste of submission that came with being bound and gagged. The thought of him discovering my secret was exhilarating.
"Come in," I said with a smile, stepping aside to let him enter my well-kept living room. He walked in with a confidence that seemed to have grown from his rehearsals.
"So, the scene is pretty intense," he began, explaining the setup as we moved to a chair in the center of the room. "You'll be playing a hostage, and I'll be the hero trying to save you."
My heart raced as he pulled out a length of rope. "I've seen movies like this before," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Let's get started."
He secured my wrists behind the chair, tightening the knots just enough to keep me in place but not cause discomfort. His eyes held a glint of excitement, and I couldn't help but wonder if he had any inkling of what this was doing to me.
As he wrapped the rope around my ankles, I took in the sight of him, his biceps flexing with each pull. I felt the warmth spread through me, my anticipation growing. This was going to be better than any scene in a movie.
Finally, he produced a cloth. "I know it's not ideal, but it's what I have," he said, moving towards my mouth.
I nodded, my eyes wide with excitement. The moment he gagged me with the fabric, I was in my element, my body responding in ways he couldn't possibly understand. He stepped back to admire his handiwork.
Then he continue tying my ankles and knees, making sure I couldn't struggle or escape. He was meticulous, which only added to the thrill. Each knot felt like a declaration of his dominance, and every tug of the rope sent shivers up my legs. I could feel the fabric of my pantyhose stretch and conform to my skin, emphasizing the vulnerability of my situation.
He stepped back and took in the sight of me, bound and gagged, and he adds more ropes around my chest, waist and legs, pulling them tightly to ensure my white top couldn't rise up, exposing more than intended. I could feel the pressure of the ropes against my skin, and the tension between us grew thicker than the knots.
Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I felt his hands caressing my legs in npantyhose almost intentionally, as if he enjoyed the sight of me bound more than he let on. His eyes lingered on the curves of my body, and for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that he was in on my secret.
But then, as quickly as it had come, the moment of fantasy vanished when he spoke up, his voice cracking with nerves. "Alright, I think that's good. I'll run through the scene now."
My heart sank as he took a seat opposite me, holding the script like a lifeline. He began to read, his voice faltering at first, but soon growing stronger as he slipped into character. I sat, watching him with wide eyes, my breath hitching slightly with each movement of his body. The adrenaline rushing through me was palpable, and I could feel the dampness between my thighs.
