| Blonde Bondage |
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RESERVED FOR LATER (A Fictional Story) © Copyright 2010 - Angela Bowning one must also know how to seduce” Voltaire He was young and healthy, a stud in tight blue jeans. Love was all around and he intended to get as much as he could. At the music festival he felt surrounded by swarms of good looking women. Early in the day he became thrilled by a mature earth mother type, long full skirts, experienced, long hair and the warmest womanly smile you could imagine. She had a beautiful way of talking and a hint of an accent. She knew everything and was worldly and welcoming. They spent the day together and felt a great attraction. This woman knew how to flirt and knew what turned him on. He felt that he could tell her anything. In his recklessness he told her about his bondage fantasies. This woman had everything that a man could want. "Let me show you my tent," she said softly. Next to the fire pit in the middle of the crush of tents was her huge tent. It was impressive and large, like something from a movie. Drapes, sashes, soft cushions and rich old rugs on the floor. He looked at her again in a new light. She had large hoop earrings and silver jewelry and looked more like a gypsy than a hippie. He wondered how she had got the tent into the campground, it was so large that it must have taken a truck and some help. He wanted to tie her up in her tent. They went for food and merged back into the crowd. He realized that everyone seemed to know her and greeted her by name, Zigana. She was very popular and she always introduced him as her good friend. Musicians waved or nodded from stage and he felt that she was known by everyone. Occasionally he would catch her heady perfume, unlike anything he had smelled before. He was noticing how everyone loved her and he loved her too. He wondered who she was but couldn't ask. Was she famous? Was she a singer? Or was she in the movies? He couldn't think but that he loved her. Everything about her was seductive. They had a good day and he was looking forward to the evenings loving with this beauty. He was in his sexual prime and brimming over with the good stuff. Love was in the air, it was spring and the weather was warm and the nights were fine. Zigana hinted that she would entertain a little bondage fun and he couldn't wait for evening. He brought good wine and fresh bread to her tent, simple offerings to the love goddess. Her tent was comfortable with soft low bedding. They loved and hugged, talked and he was really ready. She asked him about the bondage and he said that he could use anything he could find to tie her up. "What are you going to do then?" she asked. "Then I am going to love you and caress you and pleasure you," he said as optimistically as possible. She said that the night was still young and that she wanted to go and dance first. The campground was coming to life as people found their tents. Happy voices, girls and guys. The sounds of fun and what could have been lovemaking in other tents. He wanted to do it right away, a victim of the stud effect, and she wanted to take her time. She said that there was going to be a campfire and people would be playing guitars and people would come. He was insistent, "Take your time" she said soothingly, "we've got all night." Then she told him that she was into bondage too. He was surprised, "really?" he asked. He thought he was the only one. She said her turn on would be to tie him up and pleasure him instead. How could he turn this opportunity down? He got naked in a flash. She had handcuffs! What a surprise. They kissed and she put them on him behind his back. This was fun. She rubbed his legs and then put handcuffs on his ankles! Wow, extremely effective. How thrilling. He tried to roll on top of her and kiss her. His erection was bursting and in a rush. "You young men are so impatient," she said, "take your time, you have all night." "I want you now," he insisted and tried to mount her while wearing cuffs on his wrists and ankles. She wanted more time and wanted to see the people she knew around the campfire. He resorted to pleading. That made her laugh, "you sweet boy," she said. He loved her and wanted her right away. She was rubbing his body and pressing against him. Her long hair fell across him and her breasts pressed up against his chest. "Oh," she said, "one more pair of handcuffs in my bag." "Put them on," he said gleefully imagining the fun romp they could have. "Let me do something first," she said. Then she locked the handcuffs between his wrist handcuffs and his ankle handcuffs. Men will do anything when they are full of lust. He was hogtied in steel! "This is great," he said. She rubbed him and kissed him and said that she wanted to dance first. It was going to be a long night. She could see that he was going to be a handful. She stroked his face and gave him a warm smile. "Ok, lets make love now," he pleaded. "No, I'll be back in a while," she said, and he realized that in all this loving and groping, he was naked and she was still fully dressed. She was gone in a flash; a swirl of a gypsy skirt into the darkness. Just her warmth and perfume remained. "What do I do?" he called. "Wait for me," she shouted. He was going nowhere. The sounds of the busy campground now became his focus. Just the other side of the thin cloth were people walking with flashlights, stumbling unpredictable and going in and out of tents. This tent was open! Would someone mistakenly come into this one? This wasn't his tent, what could he say? He hardly knew her, could only guess who she was. What if some of her friends recognised her tent and came to visit? Maybe a boyfriend? He was there in a strange woman's tent, naked and helpless. He was trapped and yet there were delicious women out there asking to be had. He was here, yes he loved the helplessness and the vulnerability but where was she? He couldn't leave. Hopefully she was reserving him for later. Maybe this was her turn on, leaving him helpless. She had chosen him. Just some erect cock unable to do anything. Helpless in her tent. A woman's power over the powerful. With time to think he realized that this was not the first time she had done this. He wondered if all the people they had met during the day had known what she was going to do to him. She could just have introduced him as her next victim. Maybe that's why no one else came into this socialites tent, they knew what they were going to find. Voices were everywhere. Guitars were playing. Laughter and loving. What could he do? If he tried to wriggle out of the tent his situation could get worse. He had no choice but to wait for her to return and he wanted to be there when she returned. He was not going to be a bed hopper that night. Fidelity in a lover is admirable but this enforced fidelity had it's own thrill. He wanted her, his cock told him so. His thoughts of her were torrid and he had not been her lover yet. They had only really flirted and groped. She had so much confident beauty, maturity and girlish charm. She was feminine to the extreme. He wished she were with him and teaching him a lesson in manhood. He pledged he would be kind and gentle and caress her and love her all night and let her fall asleep in his arms. He struggled with the cuffs but there was no way he could escape. He tried to get some comfort. He grunted and could have rolled over but that was all. She had gorgeous flashing eyes and the sweetest smile. He liked the way she walked, that womanly hip movement, her conversation interesting and educated. He felt unpolished and realized that despite his youthful energy he had a lot to learn about women. He would love to learn a lot from her. The fire in the pit flamed as someone lit the fuel. He could see the flames on the wall of the tent. A crowd gathered like moths, finding seats. Music began, intense guitars, maybe three or four. Was this some kind of flamenco? Intense, stirring, musical energy. After some time the crowd yelled her name - Zigana, Zigana, why was she so popular? Then he realized, she began to dance and all he could do was watch her seductive shadow on the tent. A flickering, swirling ancient gypsy dance. Of course, it hit him, the clothes, the jewelry, the accent and the popularity. Now it all made sense. But what part did he have in all this? He could do nothing but go along with the play. She had chosen him. Reserved him for later. The intense music continued and Zigana danced in the flickering firelight. Men loved her and wanted her, women admired her. With a crescendo of cheering and applause she ended her dancing. He imagined her breathless and heady. It seemed like hours but may not have been when she came back. She was saying goodbye to her friends at the opening of the tent. She had to leave a pressing group of hot male admirers. "Not tonight my darlings, I have company," and she laughed a gypsy laugh. She was back glowing and triumphant. He looked intently at all of her beautiful features and loved her even more. 'Tis woman, woman, rules us still" (Thomas More) Angela Browning (You can send story suggestions, fiction and artwork to FictionandArtwork @ gmail.com) 
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