By Ropeluvr

The following is fiction, and enacting it could have possible negative risks. It is provided for entertainment purposes only.

Like my prior story, this is merely a beginning. You can let your imagination run wild or take it somewhere entirely different. I’ve always found that the setup to these stories is more intense and satisfying than what comes afterward. This is probably because the mechanics of sex, slavery and captivity aren’t what get me going. I have fantasies after these openings, but since my experiences and interests aren’t the same as others, I almost feel like I’m cheapening anyone else’s enjoyment by servicing my own. So, there isn’t likely to be a continuation of this tale; however, one never knows what might strike my fancy later.

© Ropeluvr

 

My backdoor neighbor — that’s a term that amuses my juvenile side, but it’s the best way to describe our situation. My house’s backyard adjoins his backyard. It’s a chain link fence, so there isn’t much privacy, but no one in the neighborhood really has much more than that, so it seems perfectly normal. My backdoor neighbor is tall, dark haired and sports either a clean-shaven face or a goatee whatever seems to suit his fancy. He’s thin, but his loose T-shirts have a hint of sculpt beneath them. Other than mow or trim his lawn, I don’t think he does much else outside of work but go to the gym.

I don’t know what he even does for a profession, I just know that his meticulous attention to his lawn’s details is borderline OCD (he takes a bag around his lawn and picks up stray leaves and detritus in his yard that no one from a distance could even see).

I’ve found myself watching him intently through the window in my backdoor when he’s performing these acts. I try to imagine what he’s like, what he does for a living and why his manicured lawn is so important to him. As far as I can tell, he has no wife or pets and his attire is straightsville. He’s never looked over while I’ve been watching him, so I assume he doesn’t know I keep an eye on him periodically. I’m fairly lonely but also intensely shy, so even introducing myself would probably send my dick into betrayal territory, which for someone who for all appearances is straight wouldn’t be a wise idea. I live in a fairly conservative area, so there’s no mental security available.

He’s seldom working on his lawn while I am, so we don’t even have the occasion to meet. Though, the handful of times he’s stepped out to work on his lawn and I’ve started also, he heads in almost immediately. It’s starting to give me a complex. Does he know I’ve been watching him and intense, up-close inspection frightens him? Or does he just not like to be out working when others are? After all, with the intensity of his lawn maintenance, it must be difficult for him not to spout out all the ways I’m terrible at it. Of course, this is just me projecting my own anxieties and fears on him.

His small, square patio holds two wrought-iron chairs and a table. They must only be decorative, because other than placing his shoes on them before walking inside barefoot, I’ve never once seen him lounging or relaxing in them.

At night, when the moon is shaded, our lawns are pitch back. Neither of us have occasion to use our porch lights, so a thought crept into my mind. What if I sneaked over in the dark of night and did some self-bondage on his chairs? Being so dark and no one being awake to watch would be a perfect opportunity to get close to him without revealing my passions. Several new moons passed, each time I’d chicken out; but one night I was particularly horny and decided I would finally get up the courage and do it. It was a Friday night. His lights had gone out around 9 p.m., and the full darkness approached at midnight, so that’s when I planned my excursion. I put a few handy items into a duffle and crept into the backyard.

Being far away from major streets, the quietness is terrifying. Every little sound seemed to echo, but that could just be my own imagination. I climbed over the short fence, taking care to make as little noise as possible. I had put on a pair of tight leather gloves to cover my fingerprints just in case something got out of place and the police were called. The last thing I needed was being arrested for trespassing, or worse. I got over to the chairs, and everything was still quiet. My heart had stopped just long enough for me to assure myself that no one was stirring.

I was wearing dark blue jeans and chucks and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. And, even though it wasn’t cold, I also wore a dark stocking cap to keep me as invisible in the near dark as possible. I reached into my bag as I sat down in the chair and pulled out a roll of duct tape. I knew this wasn’t going to be quiet, so I worked slowly to try to minimize the sound as I taped my ankles to the opposite front legs of the chair. I then did the same for my upper calves. I reached into the bag and took out one of my socks and stuffed it in my mouth before winding the tape around my head to seal it in. I then took some rope out of the bag and wrapped it around my chest under my arms and around the back of the chair. I tied the knot in front of me, coiled some more rope over my shoulders to the rope in the back and secured myself to the chair. I then took a dog chain from my bag and a padlock as well as a thin piece of cloth clothesline rope. I tied one end of the rope to the middle of the chain and to the other end, I tied a key to the handcuffs I had in the bag. I then locked the chain around my neck with the padlock and dangled the rope with the key behind the chair. Looking to make sure everything was still in order and stopping to listen one more time, I took the handcuffs out and ratcheted one cuff into place on my left wrist and then swung my arms behind the chair. I felt to make sure the key was still in reach (it was) and secured my left wrist behind the chair.

There I was, self-bound to my neighbor’s chair in my neighbor’s yard. My dick had been hard from before I crossed the fence, but it strained even harder against my jeans. I tested my bonds and wiggled a little, feeling almost euphoric at how secure I felt. I knew I was within short release with the key nearby, but it was nevertheless an intense feeling.

“What the hell are you doing?” A chilly voice came from behind me, my heart stopped and I sat quietly for a moment before deciding to start struggling to reach the key. I felt around, but it wasn’t there — I began to panic.

The voice continued. “Is this what you’re looking for?” My handcuff key was now dangling in front of my face, still attached to the rope. I could barely make out its outline in the dark, but there was no mistake. I could feel a warm presence behind my head, hot breaths on my neck. I was shaking, but my dick was still hard.

I tried to speak into my gag, but it was muffled. I could hear a faint, throaty chuckle as the key disappeared from view and I could feel fingers tickling the back of my neck as this unknown man was untying my key rope from the back of my chain collar. I looked around as best I could, but couldn’t get more than a shadowy glimpse of my tormentor. I saw my bag being pulled out of sight behind me, but nothing more. Suddenly, my world went dark. The stocking cap I wore was pulled down over my eyes. I began to panic and squirm when I heard the familiar sound of duct tape being unwound from the roll. I then felt pressure as the tape was wrapped around my eyes over the stocking cap. It was wound at least a dozen times.

He didn’t say anything else for a bit, though I did feel him releasing the ropes around my chest. I heard the sliding click of a pocketknife being opened, and my heart stopped again. I then felt tension on the tape around my legs as it was cut free from the chair. My captor lifted me to my feet. I was intensely unsteady, not having the benefit of my eyes for sight or my hands for balance. He turned me around and whispered quietly, “Walk.”

I did as he said, pushing out one foot at time and feeling to make sure there were no obstacles in my path. I hit the edge of something, and he told me to step up, which I did. He did this one more time as I heard the backdoor of the house opening. As I made the last step, he guided me forward for a little distance, turning right once and down what I think was a hall because the airflow seemed more confined here. After several footsteps on carpet, he gave me a hard push. I rushed forward with the intense push and careened over some shin-high object in front of me and spilled onto the softness of what I had little doubt was a bed.

I laid there stunned and a little out of breath. His presence was no longer around me, but in the distance of the house, I could hear the backdoor close and moments later footsteps coming back toward me. The sound of my duffle bag being dropped on the carpeted floor was familiar to me. I heard several of the items inside jostle around a bit as it hit. His presence was over me once again. His hands moved up my thighs. Giving my bulging package a quick squeeze, he then unbuttoned my pants, pulling them down around my ankles. My cock was now standing at attention, and he flicked it with his finger a couple of times before moving to my feet. I felt my shoes being roughly pulled off and my pants being drawn off after them. As the rustle of my jeans hitting the floor echoed in my ears, His quick movements were creating an intense bit of air circulation in the room. I could feel him move about.

I felt some kind of cloth being placed between my ankles and again heard the duct tape being drawn, and he wrapped my ankles in duct tape several times, going as high as my mid-shin and all the way around my feet. He then wrapped more tape around my thighs just above the knees, which he likewise inserted some kind cloth between. This guy was experienced and knew that any period of time with bone rubbing against bone was going to be painful.

He pulled me forward on the bed and flipped me over on my stomach. He grabbed my hands and pulled off my leather gloves. A few moments later, his hands, now covered in my own gloves, forced my fists into balls and wrapped them with duct tape, cocooning them in a state of uselessness. He then took the handcuffs off and flipped me back over. My shirt was pulled up over my head, leaving me completely naked on his bed. He grabbed my wrists and held them together in one hand while the other grabbed the duct tape, which I presume he started free from the role with his teeth. He then wrapped my balled fists together in front of me, palm side to palm side.

Again, he dragged me to the front of the bed, spinning me around so my head was hanging off slightly. He touched the tape on my face, felt the wad of sock through the gag and what sounded like a laugh escaped his mouth. “You gagged yourself well enough that I don’t have to. But just in case.” He took more duct tape and wrapped it around my head more times, going up and over my nose and connecting to the tape over my eyes. He left space under the tape so I could breath through my nose, but much of my head was now encased in duct tape.

He then took hold of my cock and started jerking me off. His gloved hands were dry and they rubbed my dick hard, but being fully erect, it was such an intense feeling I didn’t mind. He slowed and sped up periodically. After several minutes, I ejaculated in the most intense orgasm of my life. I was breathing heavily and felt my body limply laying on his bed. He took a towel and dried the cum off my deflating cock, the painful rubbing speeding up the process. Shortly after, I felt his breath on my neck again. “Don’t worry. I’m a doctor. This won’t hurt a bit.”

What did he mean? The next thing I knew, I felt something cold being wiped on my upper right arm. Moments later, I felt the prick of a needle, I was frightened and my breathing quickened, but whatever it was began to take its effect, I felt almost euphoric as my body started tingling, my breathing became shallow and my mind started getting foggy. It couldn’t have been long before I blacked out, but I don’t remember a thing.

That is, until I woke up the next morning …

 

THE END