You must either conquer and rule or serve and lose,
suffer or triumph, be the anvil or the hammer.
(Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)
There she was, standing on their doorstep, Angela Browning herself.
The sun seemed to shine just for her. Shiny and radiant. She stepped forward
confidently and the two formerly tough "bondage masters" became shuffling,
mumbling and humbled followers of the goddess.
Angela walked in and handed her bag of tricks to one and her jacket to the other.
She was joined on the sofa by the girls who had magically absorbed a new sense
of majesty from Angela. The girls became women and the men became boys.
They talked, giggled and laughed as if the boys were not there.
The boys were dithering in the background wondering what to do next. Was there
something she needed? Could they get her something? Was the weather to her
liking? Everything they tried felt feeble and made things worse.
There was nothing Angela needed, she was complete.
"Ok, let's get started." said Angela after some girl talk that excluded the boys.
"Show me your bed," she compelled, pointing at Gerry who stumbled awkwardly
towards the bedroom he shared with Martha. They all went into the bedroom and
stood around the bed expectantly. "Gerry, do you have any rope?" Angela asked.
Gerry with his hands shaking from nervous excitement produced some coils and
both boys were convinced that this was going to be the moment they were going
to take over. Victory was going to be theirs.
"Let me show you something first as a warm up to the fun," joked Angela and
collectively everyone chuckled and relaxed a little.
It was going to be all right. Things were going to go well.
She turned Gerry around and took his wrists and as she said, "I sort of like it like
this, firm yet comfortable," she expertly lashed his wrists together behind his back
leaving a three feet long tail of rope. It was all so quick. And then without missing
a beat she pushed him gently forward onto the bed and said, "But I think I want it
like this, facedown on the bed." Everyone just watched it happen as if they were
mesmerized. Before he knew it, Gerry was facedown on the bed with an ankle tied
to each of the two bottom corners and the rope from his wrist rope pulled up tight
to the headboard of the bed and tied off.
"Are you comfortable, Gerry?" Angela asked sympathetically. Gerry nodded. "Can you
move?" she asked. "Not much," came the muffled reply.
"You see," Angela went on in her smooth flow of dialogue, "there are no knots within
reach and Gerry is stretched out so that he can't move. Now that's how I want it!"
and turning to Mike she demanded, "Now Mike, where is your bed?"
In a dazed, compliant haze, the rest of them went into Mike and Sheila's room.
"This really turns me on to get it like this," insisted Angela and within two
minutes Mike was also face down on the bed, stretched out. "Are you comfortable,
Mike?" asked Angela again. Mike nodded. "Can you move?" she asked. "It's not
easy," replied the subdued Mike. He was tied efficiently and left wondering what
had happened to him. Was it supposed to be like this?
Angela looked around the room, put her hand to her forehead and said to the
stunned women, "You know, I think I have a slight headache. Do you have any
aspirin?"
The three women went to the kitchen and sat around the table. The two were quiet
trying to take in what had happened. "Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Angela looking
at the time, "I have another appointment." Sheila and Martha followed Angela to
the front door as she scooped up her bag of tricks and her jacket and stepped out.
"What about Mike and Gerry?" asked Martha wondering what to do next.
"Relax for a while, give them another hour or so and then go and show them that
you love them in your own special way," came the mischievous reply.
And then Angela smiled and walked off jauntily giving the women a wiggle and a
wave as she went.
Angela Browning
(You can send story suggestions, fiction and artwork to FictionandArtwork @ gmail.com)