RG Bargy

When my flat mate suggested tying me up I wondered why. We lived separate lives, she had her friends, I had mine. Sure, we talked, we shared clothes, food and most other things but we did not even sit on a settee together. This suggestion came out of the blue. Her excuse was she needed someone to practice on. Her boyfriend wanted her to tie him up but her initial attempts had proved inadequate. It sounded harmless enough. I of course have never had anything to do with bondage, even as a child. I did have a quick browse through some web sites. What I saw intrigued me. People seem to enjoy being tied up in all sorts of ways, some like pain, others want sexual stimulation and some just want to be restrained. If everything was to be believed it was all done willingly. It takes all sorts I suppose and I was going to join them. It was my choice to allow it or not, and I was going to allow it. It started some very strange feelings inside me. Was it Fear? Or excitement? Or? ...

Part I Ian hated house work, it felt all wrong. He did not consider himself a chauvinist but all the same, cleaning, washing, that was not a job for a man. Unfortunately since he and Kiersty had got married it had become necessary for him to do his fair share of chores. He was a postman., which meant he worked shifts, starting early or finishing late. Kiersty worked in an office 9-5 which meant that she usually got home just before 6. He worked Saturday mornings so she did most of the laundry then but week days he did his share. . She was quite a catch, blonde, shapely and very affectionate. He loved everything about her. Their relationship was based more on mutual respect than physical attraction, the fact that she was beautiful was a bonus, not the main stay. Her looks may deteriorate but her mind and their mutual interests would remain. ...

Tasha walked at a steady pace her stiletto heels clip clopping in perfect rhythm. She hardly glanced at the familiar surroundings, pairs of houses, each slightly different, staring silently back at her. Who knows what secrets lay behind those rose curtains or the bright red door? The lawn that had become overgrown, the house with ever changing brightly coloured hanging baskets, the unmoving caravan, the iron gates that did not quite meet properly. The wall with missing coppice stone. Mr Franklin must have a new car. The twitch of curtains at no 54, that woman really should get a life! Just another street in another town or city? ...

Mary lay still, trying to conserve what little energy she had left. To be honest she had little movement available to her but she had been struggling now for over 36 hours with no effect. There had to be an answer to this predicament. She just had to work it out. In the mean time she must stay calm and still. Mary was one of Nature’s cruel jokes, a “Plain Jane”. She was flat chested and just a little too plump. Her hair was mousy, straight, and refused to sit in any styling position for more than an hour. She normally wore glasses, having tried contact lenses and found she was hyper allergic to them. No amount of money or style could make her attractive to the male or female sex alike. She was a loner, always had been, probably always would be, assuming she got herself out of this bind that she was in. ...

“I am inventor.” He said dramatically Michelle was not impressed. To her it was nearly as corny as “Would you like to see my etchings?” She knew he worked, they shared the same office building. Brendan lived alone, that much was certain. No woman would be able to stand living in a place like this. Admittedly it looked clean and reasonably cared for but there was no organization, discarded tools lying every where, the books were not in any order on the book shelf and there were several teetering stacks of videos either side of the television. She had known him on and off for years, but they had never got together until now. He had wooed her slowly taking her out and showering her with gifts. This was the first time she had ever been in his home and she did not know what to expect. ...

I am a specialist but you will not find me in any telephone directory or even on the Internet. I get my work by word of mouth and referrals. Am I expensive? Not always, it depends on the client. I have even once provided my services for free: that was to Amanda, but she has never left again. She assists me now and then, usually as a model to demonstrate my work. ...