The Garage Incident

The Garage Incident
fiction by Carol Tightly
Posted: June 16, 2009

“Well, Carol, that should keep you occupied while I get the errands run,” my husband commented as he tied the last knot in place. As was his habit on Saturday mornings, he was leaving me in bondage while he ran out to take care of some things. In this case it was a haircut, followed by a trip to the hardware store. Afterwards, he would return and have his way with me at least once and sometimes multiple times before I was unbound.

On this particular Saturday, he was leaving me in the garage. That was because it was finally warm enough for such an escapade. It had been a cold winter. The April sun was finally making things bloom. I was clad fairly scantily wearing a red lace bra and panty set with a matching red lace garter belt. The stockings I had on were a taupe color of real nylon just like the old days, very satiny and smooth on my long legs; which trailed off in a pair of four-inch black leather high heels.

The first thing he had done was bind my wrists in front of me tightly with some sturdy white cotton rope, which he had cinched snugly. Next, he used a homemade spreader bar with eyebolts on each end. Through each eyebolt he threaded more of the rope, of which he wound several loops around my ankles before knotting that off, keeping my feet spread about two feet apart. The spreader bar was locked to another eyebolt he had screwed into the cement floor with a key lock. This ensured I was going nowhere. He then took a length of cotton rope, and after knotting it off on the ropes that bound my wrists, pulled them upwards passing the rope through an eyebolt screwed into a ceiling beam. This eyebolt was a foot or two in front of me. The net effect was that while I was fully stretched taut I was left in a slightly bent angle, my hips thrust backwards a bit. I was sure that was for his benefit when he returned.

After placing a big red rubber ball gag into my mouth and buckling it about my neck, he grabbed some more rope and began to finish up. First he took a long length which he wound around my torso, both above and below my breasts, framing them and making them more pronounced. The last piece he tied tightly around my waist. This one had a long tail which he ran from my waist down between my cheeks and up through my legs splitting my vaginal lips through the panties before tying it tightly off on the front side near my flat belly. Every time I moved, that rope rubbed into my crotch, teasing my clitoris.

His rope work done, my husband took off via the garage side door. A few moments later I heard the sound of the car cranking up and the crunch of gravel as he rolled down the driveway. That left me alone, save for our dog, who was probably wandering out in the woods behind the house. After the disturbance of his departure, the place eventually returned to the normal quiet. I soon heard birds chirping outside and tree branches rustling in the breeze. All these sounds tend to be amplified when you are bound and helpless.

I turned my head towards the garage side door hoping that my husband had remembered to lock the door. I had a slight uneasy feeling. This was the first time I had not been fully locked inside the house, but that really should not have mattered.

Pulled tight as I was, my leg muscles and arms soon started to feel the strain. I was balanced on the four inch heels unable to move more than an inch in any direction. I wriggled about trying to relieve pressure as I could, but it was marginal at best. At least the crotch rope was teasing my womanhood as I moved. Slowly but surely, tensions of another sort were building up inside me. I stood there in semi-motionless bondage for what seemed like forever as the sounds from outside the garage kept my senses and nerves on edge. I lasted most of an hour like this, but my nervous system was frail by that point.

That’s when I heard the crunch of gravel and footsteps approaching. That put me into a panic. I began squeaking into the ball gag as though calling for my husband and looking about frantically for a method of escape.

I was wrenching against my ropes as I heard the snick of a key turning the side door lock. The squeak turned into a full whimper as the door flung open and I found myself staring in to the gawking eyes of my husband’s brother Rick. We stared at each other for a couple of minutes, both unbelieving what we saw. A sly grin eventually formed on his face, probably equal to the pit starting to knot in my stomach. After a moment or two he turned and gently closed the door. It suddenly dawned on me where my uneasy feeling had come from. Rick had called last night about borrowing my husband’s chain saw. I remembered my husband telling him where to find it in the garage. I had blithely forgotten the call. Now I wondered if my husband had been that absent minded too.

Rick sauntered over for a closer inspection. He had probably already figured out by my lingerie and the way I was captive that this hadn’t been foul play. I guess he could figure out my husband and I were playing bondage games. I wiggled from head to toe as he walked around me examining all the rope work and the spreader. I could feel my breathing shortening as I spent time under his gaze. I knew from general conversations that Rick had a real thing for good lingerie and especially real stockings and garters. He loved to talk about the “swish” they made as a woman walked by. I was not surprised when he stooped down to take a closer look. I could feel his warm breath on my ivory thigh as he traced a finger slowly down one of my legs, feeling the silken material of the nylons.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the finger take over my senses, spending a fleeting second thinking about my husband’s return. Then my head snapped back as I suddenly remembered this was Rick, and I was tied and helpless before him. I quivered as he rose again, this time reaching for my breast and kneading it through the lace material of my bra before tweaking a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. I warbled into the ball gag, and he chuckled. Walking around behind me, he pressed himself up against me and then wrapped his arms around until he got a handful of lace-encased breast in each hand. He began to knead both breasts, and I moaned softly into the ball gag. I could tell by the bulge forming in his pants that Rick was enjoying having “discovered” me in this state.

As he massaged my cleavage, with my now rock hard nipples, Rick dipped his head down and began to nibble at my neck and tongue tease me a bit. It was then I had my second epiphany, as I came to the realizations of Rick’s intentions, or at least desires. He lowered himself down, lips and tongue wandering the crevice of my back as his hands slowly wandered down my torso. When he landed on his knees, his tongue was gently tickling the small of my back. This was an incredible feeling, but not near as arousing as his hands, which were now slowly running up and down my legs, fingers teasing me through the stockings. He teased the garter snaps at the top of my stockings, which made me shiver in arousal. Then his hands moved upwards where he probed a finger under the crotch rope, discovering my growing wetness as it leaked into my panties. Instinctively I tried like any woman to close my legs, but they moved nowhere, locked by the spreader bar. Slowly, Rick reached up and began to unknot the crotch rope, sliding it from me until it dangled free.

He was standing again, and I felt his hands slide down under the waistband of the lace panties pushing them down over my firm rump and towards my knees. They would only go about halfway there before my spread legs stopped them, but it was more enough to leave me fully exposed and open to him. I quivered in my taut stance fully knowing how helpless I was to him. When his hand probed between my legs, twirling my clitoris in his fingers, I let out a long moan into the gag. That’s probably the sound he was looking for. I next heard the sound of his zipper sliding down and the rustle of clothing. The next finger between my legs was considerably longer and wider than the ends of his hand.

Looking down I saw the head of Rick’s engorged penis as he ran it between my legs, making it slick from my fluids. It was huge and erect as it glistened between my thighs. It was bubbling to my imagination that my husband may not have forgotten about Rick’s coming over. He had mentioned in the past Rick’s fascination not only with the lingerie, but also with the idea of helpless damsels in distress. I was sure he had told Rick of some of his own conquests with me.

I could feel Rick’s hands slide to my waist where they took a firm grip of my hips. I surprised myself with the guttural moan I made when he pierced my vaginal opening from behind. With a mighty thrust Rick impaled me with his stiff rod, burying himself to the hilt.

He began humping away like a stud horse. Helpless as I was, I could do nothing but stand there and accept his thrusts as he stood behind me, his pelvis slapping my behind with each inward motion. The garage smelled of lustful sex as he drove into me with long, hard strokes. The scene could be described as nothing less than animal lust. I had the sensations of being devoured by Rick in the sexual sense. His hands now roamed freely about my torso and breasts, and I could feel his hot breath huffing the back of my neck as he took me in a heated rush of passions.

Unable to control myself I tumbled into an orgasm like a tornado. My vaginal muscles clamped down on Rick’s penis like a vice and began to convulse on his hot member. That drove him over the edge. I heard a long moan from behind me. His penis began to jerk inside me in rapid-fire motions as he began to ejaculate torrid gushes of semen up inside me. I had flashing thoughts of getting pregnant as I was totally unprotected from Rick. But this just stimulated my own fantasies and made my orgasm last even longer as I twisted and turned on his squirting geyser while it drained itself deep inside me.

Rick had spoken not a word to this point, not counting the orgasmic groan. After withdrawing from me and putting himself back together, he gently slid my panties back in place. He slithered the crotch rope back, adding a couple of knots to torment my clitoris into frenzy. Then he wandered over to the shelf and grabbed the chain saw.

On his way back to the door, he stopped and whispered into me ear, “Tell him thanks for me, will you.” With that, he left me as he chuckled on his way out the door.

Once again, I found myself alone. Glancing up at the wall clock over my husband’s work bench I figured I was going to be here at least another half hour before he got home. Rocking back and forth with the remnants of Rick dribbling back to my panties I let the crotch rope tease me while I awaited my husband’s return.

THE END

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