Glamour bondage by Uncle M

Hey there,

Here is a new story I was thinking up today - the woman who it is based off of is a former supervisor and professor.  She’s about five foot 9, in her early 50’s, with short brown hair.  Her fingernails are usually painted a deep red, as are her toes.  Her feet are a size 10, and she has some of the best looking feet and toes I have ever seen (we used to get pedicures together after work some evenings).  I call this story “Too Much Homework,” but you can feel free to change that.  Best, Reacherfan.

Kay was finishing up some work in her home office; she had gotten home early, and wanted to catch up on things before going to bed early for the night.  She was in a white Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt and khaki shorts.  However, she heard the distinctive ringing of her grey Motorola Razr.  Picking up the phone, she heard the voice of Tammy, one of her least favorite students.  “Sorry to get you so late, but I’m doing the project for class and am having some serious problems.  Would you mind stopping by to give me some guidance?”  Kay groaned audibly; Tammy had been receiving low marks all semester in the graduate course, and was on her way to failing the class. She was a 28 year old who had come back to school to finish her degree, but she was veering off path quickly.  Against her better judgment, Kay said “Ok,” slipped on some flip flops, grabbed her Vera Bradley purse, and drove down to Tammy’s apartment, about 10 miles away.

Kay knocked on the door, to find Tammy inside, visibly frustrated.  The project had been to shoot a commercial for the advertising class that Kay was teaching; the commercial had to be for a for-profit business, and had to be under 90 seconds.  Tammy’s idea had been to shoot a cell phone commercial.  “I was hoping to shoot the commercial with someone bound to a chair, and have them call for help with the Nextel phone; it would be to sell people on the no-touch aspect of the phone, and the functionality and practicality of it.  But, my model can’t do it until tomorrow, and I want to test it out before then.”  Kay sighed, then her eyes got wide; “You don’t expect me to model, do you?”  “Well, yeah,” said Tammy, adding “It would just be for a few minutes.”  Kay rolled her eyes, then thought back to how she had advised Tammy to seek out help to raise her grades.  If she couldn’t help a student, well, then what was she doing teaching?  “Ok,” said Kay, “I’ll help for a little bit.  What do you want me to do?”

“Well,” said Tammy, “just set your purse down there on the kitchen chair, and come over to this chair, then just sit down and relax.  I’m going to tie you, loosely, and just get an idea for how the scene should be set up.”  Tammy cut a length of coarse rope with a pocket knife.  As Kay sat down, Tammy started wrapping rope around Kay’s mid-section.  However, she was doing so tightly.  “Ow!” exclaimed Kay.  “What the hell are you doing?!”  Before she knew it though, she couldn’t move her arms, and she was effectively bound to the chair.  Then, she saw an evil grin spread on Tammy’s face.

“Because of you, I may not graduate,” Tammy sneered. “I’m sick of your games, and I’m sick of you mistreating me.  Now maybe you’ll feel differently when someone else has all the power.”  She finished crossing the rope and knotting it as Kay struggled against her bindings.  Tammy, who had played lacrosse her whole life, was stronger, though, and kept Kay from moving.  When she had finally tied it around and around, as tightly as possible, she knotted it off, smiled, and started walking for her bedroom.  “I’m heading out for the weekend, so I have to get my bags.” she said, another sneer across her face. 

Kay noticed the pocket knife laying on the ground, and tried to stretch her right arm down to get it.  Her fingers were close together, trembling, straining out for the knife, and her fingers wiggled as she tried to get closer to the handle.  However, Tammy came in and said “I’ll take that!” as she snatched the knife from the floor.  Hoisting her bags over her shoulder, she walked out the door, with a slam.  “I’ll see you on Sunday night!”

Well, the scene was one that would be golden for anyone who has had revenge in mind.  Kay was bound to the heavy kitchen chair, her arms to her sides.  Her torso was bound tightly, and despite all of her wiggling and struggling, she was unable to loosen the bindings the least bit.  Panic started to set in; what would she do, how could she get out of this?  The kitchen knives were too far away, as was the house phone.  Scanning the room, her eyes fell upon her blue purse, sitting on a nearby chair.  In the side pocket, the top of the Razr phone peeked out.  If she could reach it, she could call for help.  Maybe her sewing scissors were inside as well, to aid her in cutting her way out.

Kay started to try to drag the chair closer, but found it was no use.  It was an older, heavy dining room chair, and she would not be able to get anywhere anytime soon.  Looking over, she saw that the purse wasn’t quite as far away as she thought.  Maybe she could get it with her foot…

Slipping her feet out of her flip flops, she stretched out her legs for the purse.  Her toes were about 2-4 inches away from the purse, and from the phone sitting inside it.  She stretched out her legs even more, trying to thrust her feet forward to find some purchase on the purse’s surface.  The purse strap was on the other side, so she wouldn’t be able to grasp that to pull it closer.  She would need to wrap her toes around the phone to extract it, or be able to rake the purse to the floor, and then get it closer to her.  With her hands immobilized as they were, she would have to open the phone and dial with her toes.  That, however, was looking too far into the future…

She strained out, giving her legs a rest every few minutes.  Her toes were slightly flared, and they wiggled ever so slightly as she struggled.  The veins in her foot stood out, and her toes and feet turned red from the exertion  She let out little groans every so often, her head thrown back as she tried to gain every possible inch to stretch forward, to make up the difference.  Her legs and feet were at their absolute limits, and she struggled violently to make up the difference between her and her beloved purse.  The cell phone shone like a beacon of hope.  She made one final thrust, and…

She knocked the purse off of the chair, onto the floor.  The cell phone fell from the pocket, and landed on the ground, with a thud, opening up.  This was both bad news, and good news.  The bad news was that the phone was slightly farther away.  The good news was that she could hit speed dials for 911, her daughter, or any number of people.  Straining out once again, she tried desperately to reach that phone.  The Razr, opened, looked not unlike Excalibur, shimmering in the fluorescent lights of the kitchen.

It would be nice to say that things ended quickly, but they didn’t.  She was there for 12 hours, before she was finally able to wrap her toes around her trusty cell phone.  There was much straining and struggling, her big toe finally making enough contact to get the phone closer, after it had sat mere millimeters beyond her grasp for so long.  She was able to hit the speed dial with her big toe, and summon help.