Lemme tell you a story that happened to me shev.

by Valkyrie Johnson 2/15/03

I should know by now to be careful what I wish for. I had been bugging my fiance that I have a birthday, which is on the same day, but a separate event, from Valentine’s day. Other girls get to have both, I want equal time. I should have kept my mouth shut.

He decided that the best way to do that would be to start at midnight- technically the 14th, so it was technically my birthday. Actually, to get really technical, we started a night earlier than that. I wanted to go out dancing, and he said “On a weeknight?” and I said, “I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. Worrying about what night of the week it is, is old people thinking. Let’s go.” So I dragged him out (Taryn was with me, so really WE dragged him out) to dance. I guess the idea that weeknights aren’t just for sleeping was planted then and there. If I only knew these things were going to come back to haunt me, I’d know better how to present them. Hindsight, I’ll get you for this.

Midnight. My birthday, technically. Although most decent and civilized folks know that your birthday starts after you wake up, maybe with a birthday breakfast, but certainly after the sun is up, for crying out loud. Of course, those same “decent and civilized folks” probably aren’t hounded by their girlfriend for a week about double-booking holidays.

It all began with my birthday...
I had to work the next day, so I was in bed. Taryn was in her bed, lights off, and I was headed toward dreamland. I’m just about to drift off completely when Taryn gets out of bed and leaves. Doesn’t bother me, until a couple of minutes later, when she comes running back into the bedroom WITH someone else. She springs onto the bed, bouncing on top of me, pinning me on the bed with her body. I’m startled awake, and confused in that groggy twilight zone that comes with not knowing what time it is, how much sleep you’ve had, and what’s going on. A flashlight is shined in my face, which doesn’t improve my mood.

Taryn puts her hand over my mouth as a “mysterious” voice says, “Valkyrie Johnson, you are being kidn*pped.” Ok, so I’ve played these games before and I was kind of half-expecting it with my birthday and everything, but usually they’re better timed, like say, when I’m awake, or at the end of a long day’s work, when being tied down and unable to move a muscle sounds as good as a hot bath. Never in the middle of the night, and never when I have to be at work in a few short hours. Taryn, by the way, should know better than to climb on top of me like this, because the first time she tried that, she slipped off and smacked her head on my nightstand.

I don’t want to ruin the mood, or spoil their little surprise, but this isn’t a good time, and I want to take a rein check, even though this is the kind of thing I usually fantasize about. I’m going to explain that this is bad timing. Although, I am awake now, and who could go back to sleep after something like this? And surely, they won't keep me up all night. Maybe I’ll just play along for a few minutes.

The “mysterious voice” (and who was I expecting, really?) was giving me the standard kidn*pper spiel- “you will follow our instructions exactly and you will not be harmed. Attempt to draw attention to your plight and we will be forced to kill them AND you. Do you understand?”

Taryn didn’t take her hand away, so I guess I wasn’t getting dialogue for this scene. Just as well, because my “Oh, please don’t hurt me” always comes out as “You’re already dead, you just don’t know it yet” or something equally macho that would sound better in Clint Eastwood’s mouth than mine. So I gave the obligatory “MMMPH” (and though they didn’t hear it, mine was actually a ‘mmmph you!’).

It just occurs to me now, that some consensual bondage scenes go through a ‘negotiation’ process, where you and your partners hammer out what is and isn’t fair game. These include things like safewords to call time out, or call a halt to the fun and games. I didn’t get to negotiate this ahead of time, but the villains involved knew my likes and dislikes and what would get me seriously pissed off. But I never even got to agree to this or decline, since the next thing that happened was they gagged me.

I saw a movie called “JAWBREAKER” about a girl who is kidn*pped on her birthday by her best friends (hmmm, I wonder who was watching that with me and taking notes…) who is gagged with, and chokes to death on, a Jawbreaker candy. I have nightmares like that.

Oh gosh, then what happened?
Luckily for all involved, they used a folded bandanna. If I had seen a jawbreaker, even as a joke, the show would have been over right there. Since I’ve gotten gagged before, I’ve given the little gag safety lecture on having all the edges of a folded cloth on the inside, so nothing works its way down the throat where it can choke.

Someone tried to gag me with a rolled up sock once, and that was a no-go, too. Even a clean one doesn’t do it for me. I would rather “safe, sane and consensual” be “Safe, Sanitary, and consensual” anytime.

I knew this would be a figurative “last chance” to back out, but I was more excited than tired, and I let myself submit. Taryn took her hand away and gripped my chin, and I opened to let them force the packing in my mouth. A 2nd bandanna followed, tied as a cleave gag to hold the stuffing in place. I lifted my head forward so they could tie the knot, hoping they wouldn’t catch any of my hair in it, so I was as helpful as possible for this part.

Then, a ski mask was pulled down over my head, backwards. Then the lights came on in the room. Taryn climbed off me, and I was manhandled out of bed, into a sitting position. Very strong fingers closed on my wrists, which were pulled behind me. I really enjoyed that part, because I use all my strength and not pull free- if it had been Taryn alone, I’d have been free at that point.

My knees were tied together, then my arms were tied to my sides, then my wrists were crossed and tied behind my back. The ropes were low around my waist, not up around my chest. I didn’t know this was deliberate until a masculine hand found its way into my pajama top, and began squeezing my breasts and rolling the nips between his fingers.

That was pretty distracting, so the next part really confused me- Taryn tied my ankles together, then she put my sneakers on my feet. This turned out to be more difficult than it sounds- most of the time, your feet aren’t bound together when you’re putting on your shoes. She would have had an easier time if she did the sneakers, then tied my feet, but live and learn.

Then I was picked up and taken to the living room, where I was hoisted into the air on powerful shoulders and given an airplane spin- and that is such a bad idea to do to a gagged person, in case they have to throw up afterwards, on the other hand, if I wasn’t gagged, I think every cop in the county would have heard me squealing.

Good and dizzy now, I was lowered to my feet, and they laughed at how long it took me to regain balance, but they didn’t let me fall. Taryn whispered right next to my ear “Happy Birthday, Val”, and at the same time masculine hands were touring my body. If you think a feminine voice in your ear and masculine hands on your body aren’t a strange combination, you haven’t been there. Taryn hugged me, which I couldn’t return because my hands were tied, and a blanket was thrown over me and I was lifted in the air.

The usual panic gripped me at this time, and I complained into my gag. They ignored me. Its one thing to have kinky fun and games at home, its quite another to involve the general public. Even though no real crime is being committed, and I’m not pressing any charges, people who might see wouldn’t know that, and embarrassment is a deeper wound than court costs anyway. I did not want my neighbors to come to think of me as “the freak”, I had enough of that in high school. It’s bad enough that they saw me outside in handcuffs with Taryn once, as long as they think that was an isolated incident, no big deal. But I think this qualified as a big deal.

Of course, nothing came of it- it was after midnight, and it was a week night, and it was cold. And my fiance’s car was in the nearest parking spot with the engine running, which I am only just realizing would have made for a very bad night if his car had been stolen. (and that movie was Excess Baggage, and thank you hollywood for making me flash on all these weird panic points whenever I’m tied up.)

I did not know if Taryn was still with us. I did not know where we were going, but I did know this was going to take longer than the few minutes I originally said would be my limit for this. And, by the time I figure these things out, it’s usually too late. That’s what I get for leaving my logic on “intermittent” instead of “constant”, like my windshield wipers.

I thought I might get to ride up front, silly me. I was put in the back seat, face down. Seat belts were not going to help in that position, and of course I worried about a car accident. Being in bondage in public- even a private car is still pretty public- put my stress level at 11. I hear being kidn*pped does that to people.

Being kidn*pped does that to people.
I was driven away. Since there was no chatting going on, I didn’t believe Taryn was still with us. After a long time, the car stopped, My door opened, and strong hands grabbed my pajama bottoms and pulled them down over my hips, exposing my naked butt. I tried to shake my head and complained loudly into my gag. I was ignored.

A hand slid up the exposed portion of my thigh and came to rest on my butt. A light, sharp slap was answered with an immediate mmmph from the gag. With some difficulty, given my position (this was another thing that could have been done in a different order) a rope was tied around my waist, and slid between my legs. Slid between my legs and carefully positioned, where it was resting against some sensitive anatomy. The rope trailed off somewhere- the end wasn’t fastened to anything taut.

Then the spanking came. Hard, sharp, slaps alternated buttcheeks, and I would have raised my bound feet to protect myself, but one hand on the knee ropes kept them down. I squealed and squalled and hollered into the gag, and I was released after only a few minutes- the spanking stopped, and the doors closed, but my pajamas hadn’t been pulled back over my butt. I was still exposed, and not just that, but with stinging butt covered in incriminating handprints.

The car started up as I tried to get myself under control, but couldn’t- the kidn*pping, the spanking, the humiliation of having my ass bared and not even having my hands free to pull my pajamas up- I was starting that low, slow, glowing boil. And as we drove on, I found out where the crotch-rope went- he had tossed the trailing end up to the driver’s seat. And now he started tugging on it. Every time he pulled the slack out, it increased pressure and tension on my crotch. Tense, release, tense, tug, tense, release. Pull, pressure, play, release. It felt like he was trying to pull me into the front seat crotch-first.

So I don’t know how long the drive was. Excuse me for having other things on my mind. But the car stopped again. The door opened and I was gathered up, blanket included, crotch-rope dragging the ground, and taken indoors. I was pretty sure I was at his house, and if I wasn’t there would be some trouble.

I was taken to the bedroom, and stood on my feet. The crotch-rope was pulled between my legs as something was pushed up to my legs and stomach. I was being tied to it, Then I was bent forward until I leaned over it, and my chest fell onto some pillows and cushions. Ropes were secured that kept me from rising from the bent over position. My mask was removed. I was tied bent over the back of a chair, facing forward, ass in the air.

Strong, firm hands rested on my ass. No longer doing the “mystery voice”, my fiance said, “Val, I love you. You know I would never hurt you. I’m doing this for you, not for me. Happy birthday.”

He started spanking me. His hands came down, strong and firm on my ass over and over and over again. I was kicking my bound feet, and crying and screaming and yelling at him through the gag- no more, please no more. He kept spanking and spanking, working my ass over. I thrashed and I bucked and I squirmed and I couldn’t get away from him, all the ropes held me down.

When he finally stopped, I could feel heat rising from my ass like a bonfire, I’m sure it was red like rudolph’s nose, it felt like it glowed. I was on fire with cherry cheeks, squirming to beat the band. And his hands slid down my ass, to the crack, and began to work their way up and inside me. He found the trigger and teased it and toyed with it and I built into an explosive orgasm. I moaned into my gag, my face was wet with tears, my body sheathed in sweat. By sweat alone I should have been able to slip out of my ropes.

I felt his hands untying my hands. I felt him massaging my shoulders, kneading the muscles. I felt him untying my knees. I felt him untying the ropes that held my arms to my waist. I felt him massaging my ribs, and feeling my sides. He untied the rope that held me in the bent forward position, and he straightened me up. He put his arms around me and held me, and said some very cool things I don’t have to repeat here.

Repeat already!
He put his hand under my chin and raised my face to look at him, and he kissed my face all the places tears had run down. He said I could go to the bathroom and wash my face. I almost started, and realized my feet were still tied. I pointed down, and he said, “Yes, you can.” I wasn’t asking permission, but that’s one of the drawbacks of 1-way communication. I bent over to untie my ankles, which took me longer than I thought it would. My fingers were shaky. When I got free, I also took off my sneakers. In the bathroom I took off my gag and cleaned up. I left the damp bandannas in the bathroom.

I couldn’t help but look at my ass in the mirror. Cherry red, starting to fade, but I could feel it. Looking at it was like a brand- it said I was marked, I was owned. I put a cold washcloth on it and expected to see steam rise.

When I was ready, I came back and asked him why I needed my sneakers for this. He said the original plan was to go to Waffle House (another element from Jawbreaker) which has a “no shirt, no shoes” policy, and untie me there. But the sight of me tied up and ready for him- he couldn’t wait, so he waved Taryn off and took me to the next stage.

I said I still had to work in the morning, and he said he had pre-packed an overnight bag for me, and he’d be driving me to work. We started up again, without the ropes, “vanilla” sex if you call me with a cherry red ass “vanilla”. He let me be on top, to protect my butt. Every time he grabbed it I squealed.

All day long at work my butt still stung, and I had to keep my discomfort to myself to protect me from the far worse discomfort of ridicule by my co-workers. Somebody mentioned a birthday spanking (which I thought was pretty loose talk considering sexual harassment suits) and I jumped. Thankfully, that was just a joke. I don’t think I could have taken another spank.

I haven’t been spanked, outside a playful swat, in 20 years, since I was 5. A lot has changed in 20 years.

Great story Val!
by Valkyrie Johnson 2/15/03

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