John Roper

(story continues from The Bondage Adventures of Lara Cross 4) Part Five Sasha Nash woke slowly and carefully from her chloroform-induced sleep to find herself completely naked and sprawled out on the floor of her studio. Sheik Achmed Ben Shahad watched the event from the comfort of his 747 cabin, after having configured the cameras and audio equipment accordingly. At first, his reluctant lover was relieved to find she had not been either done away with or shipped out to god-knows-where. ...

(story continues from Scorned Bound) Part Two Bill put his feet up on the coffee table, reached for the remote, and clicked on the thirty-two-inch monitor against the wall opposite the couch, making himself as comfortable as its cushiness was designed to offer. As she entered the room, and plopped down next to him, Vera asked, “Now what?” They both wore white, terry cloth robes, and smiles that clearly expressed their sensual satisfaction with the way the evening had thus far progressed. ...

Part One It all started with a bondage video she’d downloaded off a pay site that had everything from soup to nuts in its archive. The deeper she got into it, the hornier she got, which rarely happened to the 30-year-old, jaded beauty when viewing adult flicks. Its effect was so profound and so riveting it literally knocked her sox off. The rest of her clothes soon followed before she reached for her vibrator and, within just a few minutes, exploded with uncommon, orgasmic delight and astonishment. ...

Lisa’s the kind of woman who, once she sets her sights on what she wants, pulls out all the stops until she gets it. Though barely into her twenties, she’s hardly what one would call a novice, where bondage and discipline are concerned. After having experienced her first inescapable fix at the ripe old age of seven, when Cousin Anita tied her to a tree in the thick strip of woodland that separated back yards from the ones opposite hers, Lisa spent the rest of her life in search of people who wished to do the same. The ropes were not all that tight, but well tied by her older playmate, giving the bondage virgin a major first taste of what it’s like to be bound and held fast to nature’s sometimes unexpected surprises. A thunder and lightning storm rose quickly during the first half hour of her escape attempt, surrounding her all-consuming adventure with an aura of undeniable peril. In the minutes that followed, Lisa was drenched and beside herself with unaccustomed excitement. Though not gagged, she refused to call out for help, knowing that dong so could possibly end the experience in a way she preferred not to control or influence, given the odd, offbeat sensations and pleasures involved. Her wrists were crossed and bound together behind the tree. Cinches at the knees and ankles, tied to the rough bark, held her legs in check in such a way as to allow only abrasive movement, creating a discomfort zone over which she had full and immediate control. 50 feet of quarter inch thick clothesline pinned Lisa’s upper body to the thin trunk, which, given the windy conditions, made for some very precarious combinations of bark management to deal with. The summer storm went on for almost 45 minutes, suggesting to Lisa that her cousin might be more of a bad girl than their otherwise benign relationship had thus far revealed. ...

(story continues from Michelle’s First Time) Michelle’s First Time by John Roper Part Three Michelle was sure she could not hold up her head any longer, and would soon have to place all its weight on the pinky cinches if someone didn’t show up soon to undo its tether. ‘PLEASE don’t let her tie you up, John.’ She could also no longer deal with the pain that slowly took over her sensuality during the few minutes that had passed since the last trace of orgasmic release ended. ...

What I loved about Amanda was her adventurous spirit, her endless inquisitiveness, and the way she toyed with my affections, giving me ample reason to look for an opening when the time came to reveal more of myself to her uncommonly playful nature. We’d been working together for a few months, building her portfolio, adjusting to each other’s habits and eccentricities, and doing our best to avoid the obvious physical attractions two unattached people tend to suffer when one is a gorgeous model, and the other a highly discriminating photographer whose romantic attentions tend to gravitate towards willowy goddesses of Amanda’s caliber. ...

(story continues from Damsel in Distress 2) Part Five In spite of numerous golden opportunities, and dozens of outrageous propositions from both male a female guests, Annette had yet to participate in an actual scene while B/D partying at the house. The temptation to let go to what she knew would be as safe a situation as any she could imagine haunted the 39 year old ex model day and night, engendering a dilemma so far removed from the realms of her outgrown experience it literally cried out for an uncommon hero to rescue her from her overly cautious and underdeveloped proclivities. As sure as Annette was about the fail-safe aspect of what her newfound friends proposed, there still remained a modicum of uneasiness with which to wrestle before plunging headlong into her first scene at the house. Being the psychically oriented damsel she was, Annette opted to wait on a green light from her intuition before making a move she’d already decided would be the deep end of the kinkiest pool into which she’d ever considered diving. ...

(story continues from Binding Love) story continues from part one Part Two �Do you not yet know what this is all about?� I asked after grabbing and pinning Love�s wrists to the mattress and roughly grinding my left upper thigh into her violently gyrating lower torso. She glared up at me defiantly. �If I�d known what you were up to I would never have signed on with For Most.� She punctuated the disclosure with a spirited display of fuming body language. �You TRICKED me. You stalked and manipulated me into this situation, knowing full well that my inexperience would be at your mercy, and you did it in as deceitful and selfish a manner as a highway man lying in wait for an unsuspecting coach-n-four.� ...

Hypnotically Bound Part 3 by John Roper Hypnotically Bound 3 by John Roper Susan’s two-block walk to Moon’s dry cleaning establishment gave her time to unwind, something she had not been able to do since meeting John. Her gait was slow and deliberately casual, as if what she was about to experience happened all the time- a subtle sign she did not take lightly, given the addictive nature of her premier adventure into the fun world of hypnotic bondage and discipline. The closer Susan got to Moon’s Dry Cleaners, the hornier she got, knowing full well that she had agreed to a photo session that would last an hour, and that she would allow herself to be bound, chained, whatever, by a man with whom she hadn’t shared more than four minutes at a time of get-acquainted conversation. ...

Hypnotically Bound Part 2 by John Roper Hypnotically Bound by John Roper John’s disoriented surprise was classic. But it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened after hanging up on Joan. ‘This game of hers is beginning to get way out of hand.’ The sight of Susan’s writhing attempts to escape her undies gave him a 45 second erection, and a will to immediately grind it into the bed. But being the gentleman he was, the man his former captive had chosen to be her first bondage Dom fought off the ever-insisting urge to satisfy himself. All he could do was watch her stare at him hungrily as she tried to get a handle on her panties with the bedroom doorknob. There were no words to speak, only the silent vocabulary of supercharged eye contact and the sensually impossible body language of two, inescapably bound strangers desperately doing their excruciating best to satisfy both of their way-overdue expectations. ...

Hypnotically Bound by John Roper Hypnotically Bound by John Roper Being blond and beautiful would have been a difficult enough social cross to bear for Susan. Having an outrageous figure made the visual burden that much more complex, making any kind of public appearance an exercise in extreme self-consciousness. Add to this mixed-blessing-dilemma the psychological wrinkle of a B/D-kinky nature, and what we had here was a woman who’d waited too long and hard for her one-and-only to come along. ...

Tracy had never been bound by anyone, not even herself. Turning 18 seemed as good an excuse as any to remedy that shortcoming. Being the gorgeous brunette she was, cyber chats seemed to be the safest inroad to exploring the latent image she’d so carefully hidden from her circle and family since the morning she woke from a dream in which someone strong and masculine tied her to a chair and left her to the kinky outcome of her first, bondage wet dream. ...

It was dusk, on the second of January 2002, the day Wanda gave me her key and security code number and said, “This makes us official.” “Hi, Tiffany? Thank goodness you’re home.” “This isn’t Tiffany. I’m her roommate, Roberta. Can I take a message? She’s very tied up at the moment.” “…Uh?” “Who is this?” “This is Barbara Byrd, and no, you can’t take a message. This is an emergency. I must speak with Tiffany now! It’s a matter of life and death!” ...

As with everything she did, Lovell wanted her first, adult experience with bondage and discipline to be state of the art. From what her friends had to say about it, �For Most Fantasies, Inc.� seemed the best way to go. Nineteen years of no-complaint business, within its meticulously discreet demographic, and thousands of anonymous and signed letters from a grateful majority of very satisfied clients, abundantly testified to �For Most�s� strictly confidential, top-of-the-line standards. No cover or true identity had ever been blown, no one had ever been either psychologically or physically damaged, and no lawsuit ever filed, a track record that did much to attract clients of Lovell�s demanding and discriminating tastes. ...

As bondage damsels went, Marnie had been around the block as often as one could, without stopping for gas or asking for directions, an accomplishment worthy of Guinness World Book Record attention. Yet, the void she’d opened in her 16th year, when a close girlfriend initiated the gullible teen into her first bondage experience, had yet to be filled, and showed no signs of being ultimately satisfied, where orgasmic mountain tops were concerned. ...

As artifact hunters went, Lara Cross was not what one would call your physically and mentally ’typical,’ self-educated soldier of fortune. Stunning good looks and gorgeously put together dimensions camouflaged well her high IQ and quick-witted thinking in a way that almost always cause antagonists and friendlies alike to stand in awe of her assertive qualities and deliberately constructed persona. Everything she chose to wear, both socially and professionally, was tight fitting, which only made matters worse, where jealous women and gawking males were concerned. But that is precisely the effect Lara sought to project when dealing with anyone who crossed her path. Not that she was a tease or high-end slut on the prowl. She just loved and hated being a woman in a male dominated world, and did whatever it took to level the playing field of that double standard in a way that often gave her a marginally unfair, but very necessary advantage. ...

(story continues from Bound to be Safe) Lisa started to spasm, and didn’t show signs of stopping for some time. Debra, too, after thoroughly tuning into her accomplice’s passion, and my heated attempts at escape and maneuverability, exploded out of control, without so much as a look of concern over what my frustrated gyrations were attempting to accomplish. “What’s the matter, baby,” she chided, “aren’t you getting enough?” I knew my pelvic struggling, and overall, under-indulged expectations were feeding Debra’s psycho sensual hunger, so I deliberately did all I could to bring her overwrought libido to a place to which only a Domme of her stature and determination could aspire. The bed rocked, Lisa’s muffled moaning got louder and louder, and Debra smiled at me, as if to say, ‘Now you’re getting it, baby.’ ...

I always appreciate women who are handy with rope: especially those who love to bind their men when fore playing and/or making love. Meeting Debra awakened that infrequent, kinky preference in a way I had not experienced in several years. The adrenalin rush and sensual complications had always been an irresistible opiate in my somewhat atypical, B&D lifestyle. Consequently, as with any adventure involving the fun and pleasure of sensual bondage, there were risks to be taken into account. However, since my instincts had thus far compiled a perfect track record, where the turning over of one’s freedom to a switchable, submissive women was concerned, I opted to go for it, and enjoy the exploration of Debra’s formidable imagination and style. ...

Thanks to the demands school made on her time, there had not been an adrenalin-rush adventure in Barbara Gwenn’s life in many a month. Six semesters of college had painstakingly demolished the twenty-two-year-old’s merry-go-round of fun parties and events, which had once been an integral and taken-for-granted part of her high school routine. Maintaining a B+or-better average had turned her schedule into a one-dimensional loop of under-whelming, energy-draining oh-hum-ness, from which she now desperately needed to escape. Given the few options available to Barbara’s perennially redlining contagion of self-imposed isolation, she decided to pick up on the first, out-of-the ordinary opportunity that presented itself to a vacant slot on her calendar. ...

(story continues from Damsel in Distress) Part Three Barbara could not accurately determine how long it had been since John’s latest revelation impacted her somewhat overwhelmed sensibilities. Both she and time were obviously on vacation, suspended, as it were, in a moment beyond time, beyond reason, in a reality she’d never contemplated or experienced before. ‘I feel like a butterfly caught in a spider’s web,’ she analogized after her third and fourth writhing frenzy drove her out to the brink of yet another impossible climax. ‘How long did he say?’ The ticking of a clock focused her audio awareness on a far corner. ‘If I could just get some friction somewhere.’ Stretching her legs brought both nipples to within a quarter inch of the silk sheets below. It was to this end that Barbara Gwenn manipulated herself until her trainer went off duty. ...

Part One If it had been up to me, who dared not run the risk contemplated by my other me, what ended up happening at one in the morning of October 10th, 2001 could not have possibly made it into my 28-year-old history book. But it did, giving me pause to think on where my naiveté could lead if ever I decided to visit John’s place again. A friend, whose questionable intentions gave me further reason to deliberate the consequences of another adventure, introduced us at a party. Yet, regardless of how purposefully I tried to resist, urgings to call the new number in my sparsely populated phone book inspired many a sleepless night. Over and over replayed the highlights of that first taste of ‘forbidden fruit,’ my first exquisite encounter with what Judy called ‘delayed gratification.’ Secretly, I thanked her for not divulging the details of what that term represented. If she had, I might have spent the rest of my life wondering what it might feel like to turn my body over to a man of John’s talents and fore-playing imagination. ...

(story continues from Fast Lane Bondage) Part Two John’s parties were the best and most interesting I’d ever attended. The vibes were as good as they get, where the meeting of perfect strangers was concerned. People from all walks of life filled the tenth floor with a festive cacophony of base-touching conversation and newfound acquaintance. It was an honor to co-host, and a joy to witness, from the arrival of the first guest, to the last departure, which often lingered to first light. ...

(story continues from Fast Lane Bondage 2) Part Three ‘MY MIND AND HEART ARE FILLED WITH THOUGHTS OF HOW IT WAS WITH US,’ hand-printed Donna one day in an unexpected letter, ‘OF HOW IT FELT TO BE ALMOST NAKED IN YOUR EYES, SAVE THE ROPES YOU HAD SO MASTERFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY WOUND AND KNOTTED AROUND AND ABOUT MY BONDAGE VIRGINITY.’ We hadn’t seen each other in several months. But strong, vivid memories remained, to keep us from forgetting we were once intimately and happily involved. ...

(story continues from Fast Lane Bondage 3) Part Four Jamie had yet to experience the possible turn-on of getting tied up and pleasured by a man, an adventure she and close friend Terry had wondered about since both first watched a bondage video sent to them by an unknown, mysterious stranger. It appeared in each of their mailboxes on the same day, postmarked in their zip code, accompanied by a note that simply read: ‘IF YOU WANT MORE, TAPE AN ‘X’ ON YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW FOR TWO DAYS.’ Both women opted not to tell each other about receiving the tape. They also decided to bring up the now-and-again-discussed subject sometime during their next hangout klatch. In the interim, each masking taped an ‘X’ in the designated window, without telling the other they had, for reasons that were secretly diametric. ...

(story continues from Fast Lane Bondage 4) Part Four There were nights when Marilyn’s heart yearned to be free of ‘the thorn,’ longed to say “No!” to it, once and for all, to be done with its obsessive compulsions forever. But the castle, with its myriad passageways, labyrinths and appointments would not allow her the option, now that she’d become an unwitting prisoner to its ever-beckoning mysteries, a willing partner to the unique excitements found within its many-themed chambers. Her formidable influence over the wills of men was legend. A ten-year, top-ten career as a high fashion model had taught her much about that power, perhaps too much. Yet, she preferred to be powerless in her sovereignty, impotent to the easily available possibilities, free from the awesome responsibility of selecting her circumstance. It was a dangerous freedom to indulge, let alone master. But thanks to friends, and the safety with which they surrounded her, Marilyn could well afford to run risks when satiating the gnawing needs of her ten-year-old habit. ...

Chapter One Tyra’s Ten-Tight Fix What insomniac muse shook me from a sound sleep to record this well-worn recollection? Could the importance of the task be that timely that it had to rudely end a dream wherein I was delaying sensual gratification to a certain, very well built, young woman? What possible urgency could the imposition serve before the morning boot-up? Was it a sign unto the highly unlikely reappearance of some cutting edge damsel into my then, poor excuse for a life called homework? Or had something I didn’t know yet happen, and this was just my autonomic radar insisting I tune into an incoming blip before it, she, whatever beat me to the punch? Or was it flow-like, or something simultaneous? I hoped for both. ...

(story continues from Manhattan Bound) Part Two - Lilliana’s Pleasure We’d been keeping a very discreet eye on her since Bob engaged Lilliana as his personal chauffeur. A paper trail, leading back to her birth certificate, dated December 20, 1969, suggested a restless, inquisitive nature was primarily responsible for the checkered past she’d so carefully sown together since leaving home and school in the summer of ’89. But what intrigued us most about Lilliana was her driving curiosity and perpetual need to know more about successful people, and how they got that way. ...

(story continues from Michelle’s First Time) Michelle’s First Time by John Roper Part Two Michelle woke from a short nap and immediately felt horny again. I was on the phone with Kat. “Will do,” was all our slightly disoriented damsel consciously gleaned from our conversation after the sound of the phone being hung up popped her eyes open. She was on her side, on the bed, her left cheek buried in a pillow. Another, one-size-smaller ball gag hung from her neck. She was still bound as before, with nipple tether and crotch rope still in place. ...

Michelle’s First Time by John Roper Part One Michelle had been trying for years to tie herself up, for she so wanted to experience the intoxicating trauma of being a true damsel in bondage distress. But being the over-the-top, highly susceptible sensual creature she was, Michelle always found it impossible to think straight, if at all, when confronted by the choice of either paying closer attention to the dynamics of an inescapable bind or surrendering her discipline to a self stimulating, ‘premature’ climax. ...

She’s that complex mix; that rare and unique combination of innocent submissiveness and in-control seductively. Sabrina Covington is the quintessential ’10,’ with all the trimmings, bells and whistles; the thirty-five-year old woman with the twenty-five-year-old body, the eleven-year-old outlook, and a brand of determination and courage rarely seen in damsels of her variety. Tall and handsome in tight-waist suits; devastating in teasing underwear, and totally awesome naked, Sabrina sticks out and into things like a symphonic harp in a room filled with kettledrums. ...

The degenerating details of Bill and Debra’s separation were not what one would call amiable, given the pressurized circumstances surrounding them, and the intractable demands each placed on the other’s agenda. There had been talk of moving in together, prior to things coming to a head, but thanks to the volatility of their hair trigger tempers, no serious thought on the possibility showed signs of taking root. And as their friends and acquaintances witnessed the stormy exchanges that oftentimes spilled into social gatherings and heated, at-work phone conversations, the romantic distance between Deb and Bill widened until all that was left of their affections was the kinky sex that brought them together in the first place. It was only a matter of time before something catalytic finally brought their D/s relationship to its foregone conclusion. ...

Part Two Sheik Achmed Ben Shahad had to act fast to avoid having to pay the exorbitant, precedent setting price he’d bid for Gwenn and Lara. Once that was accomplished, he also had to figure out a way to extract the location of the treasure from Cross without tipping his hand to whomever else knew of its existence, let alone Lara’s involvement. Paula’s phoned signaled. She wasted no time getting down to business. ...

(story continues from The Bondage Adventures of Lara Cross 2)_ Part Three Neither Lara nor Gwenn said a word to each other for the three or so minutes it took to simultaneously arrive at the imploding ecstasy of their enforced delirium. Every so often they’d look up to see how the other was doing. The strapped-on, vibrator/dildos and plugs had been set on low oscillation, giving the experience a slow-motion-ness that drove them up the wall, the ceiling, the floor and the ends of their ropes to a degree that convinced Lara she would never have sex again unless her lover was an expert at rope bondage. ...

(story continues from The Bondage Adventures of Lara Cross 3)_ Part 4 Though Sasha Nash’s experience with bondage was extensive, both as a model and lover, and video producer/slaver, it was child’s play compared to the predicament in which she now found herself. Regardless of the fact that none of the snakes had made a move towards her as she slowly ascended into the vat, speculation as to what would happen when or if her abductors decided to lower her frantically writhing body all the way to the floor continued to fuel and extend the surprising depth and intensity of Sasha’s multiple. ...

The Studio - Chapter One by John Roper Chapter One - Bondage Stool Pigeon Rochelle is one of those classy, high strung beauties; the kind one often sees playing a drop dead gorgeous lifeguard in macho TV shows and flicks about body builders and other assorted nature freaks on a tear. When she caught my ad in ‘The Neighborhood Star,’ a curious energy overtook her normally jaded disposition. THE AD ...

(story continues from The Studio - Chapter Two) The Studio - Chapter Three by John Roper Chapter Three - The Juice Room Throughout her first Studio adventure, Stephanie speculated as to when and how it would end. Since her wish list and release form hadn’t specified a time limit, the possibility of extending her coming out party, beyond its current formalities, loomed precariously ahead as her haphazard thinking drifted off to sleep when the last attendee left room number two. She’d never slept tied up before, let alone in a strange bed, to which another damsel was also securely bound. The nipple weights were also still attached. ...

(story continues from The Studio - Chapter One) The Studio - Chapter Two by John Roper Chapter Two - Stephanie’s Coming Out Party When Stephanie Danner turned thirty-six, she decided to give herself a gift, one that, she hoped, would finally satisfy her curiosities concerning certain fantasies she’d been having for more than 25-years. How she learned of The Studio’s existence, and of what we were all about, remained a mystery to me, one that I was determined to solve, given the security measures we’d painstakingly maintained since our 2001 opening. But that was a matter to be dealt with at a more suitable time. ...

(story continues from The Studio - Chapter Three) Part Four - Rope Soap Six Weeks Ago Donna Parkinson and Stephanie Danner had been roommates for a little more than a year before Champaign inebriation inspired them to spill some intimate beans into each other’s curiosity. They had just arrived home, after having muddled through a very exclusive, but insufferably boring cocktail party. With the last glass of bubbly in hand, Donna decided to steer the conversation into virgin territory. ...

(story continues from The Studio 4) Part Five - Angelina’s Story Apart from being a rich man’s brat, Angelina Cox was an excellent example of a sub out of control, and searching unceasingly for the unholy grail of her first, top-of-the-mountain, bondage orgasm experience. Not having to make a living can do that to types like her who are as hooked on sadistic rope play as crack heads are on what floats their boats. ...