The Case of the Mad Scientist

Chapter 15: Japanese Hotel Rooms are Hot

Chapter 15: Japanese Hotel Rooms are Hot

I think my jaw dropped a bit. Hell, it damn near hit the floor.

“I need to get in some practice at escaping and Stella’s not here to help me. I brought some rope with me, so, if you don’t mind, would you help me?”

Would I help? Would I? When a beautiful dame asks a favor of Sled Speed, it would be ungentlemanly to turn her down.

“Sure, babe,” I told her. Belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Thanks,” she said and rushed over to her suitcase. From it she extracted several coils of rope, which she casually tossed on the bed. “Just a second and I’ll be ready.”

I watched in a mild state of shock as she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it off. That lacy black bra was holding a very nice pair of breasts. In fact, they looked so firm, that I was not sure she really needed a bra to begin with.

Then she was pulling off her slacks. A moment later she was standing before me, clad in only that bra and a matching pair of black panties that looked like something a stripper down at Charlie’s would wear - at the start of her act.

It was getting hot in that room. Must be faulty air conditioning. “How do you want it?” I asked.

“Any way you want. Pretend you’re a bad guy and captured me. Tie me up like you would if you were going to leave me alone for a few hours while you go get the evil mastermind of the gang.”

She turned and put her hands behind her.

Now, I’ll tell you, it was a good thing this bondage thing was not new to me. I had a pretty good education in such kinky sports from the sisters of Alpha Alpha Alpha, not to mention my one-time steady girl, Linda Goodbody. And I’d been around the kinky underside of the city more than once. So, when I took her wrists in my hands and began wrapping them with rope, I knew what I was doing.

The only question was how to tie her. She wanted something she could practice getting free from. And she wanted something that was supposed to be good enough to hold her for at least several hours. A hogtie? That was always a good tie when you wanted a woman not to be able to move around much. Tie her to a chair? Not a bad idea, but one had to make sure that it was a sold chair. One time I tied Linda to a wooden kitchen chair and she broke it into piece with her struggling. Too bad we didn’t have a pole or post. Tying a girl standing with her back to a pole and her arms tied behind it is usually a good way to assure she would not be going anywhere.

While I was thinking, my hands were binding her wrists together, with the palms facing each other. With that start, it was only natural to bind the elbows together next. It would not be a fair test for Blaze if I failed to bind the elbow tightly, so I made sure that they came together and were tied that way.

I looked up and saw what that was doing to her breasts in front and wanted to whistle. There’s nothing like pulling a girl’s elbows together in back to make her look good in front.

Lacking any special equipment, like a rack or whipping post, I decided to make it a hogtie. I had her sit on the edge of the bed while I tied her legs together. For a little variety, after I removed her shoes I tied her knees together but with the rope below then, not above them. I had found, from experience, that most women could wiggle their legs well enough to work the ropes down if they are tied above the knees. Unless, of course, you cinched them and made the whole tie so tight that the rope dug into the thighs.

When her legs were firmly held together, I bid her roll over onto her stomach.

“Ah, a hogtie!” she said with glee. “That’s always a hard one to get out of.”

I was busy tying one end of a rope to that around her ankles. But as I was about to pass that rope between her forearms so I could pull her feet up to her hands, I paused. I remembered a tie I had seen at Alpha Alpha Alpha one time. The girl had been hogtied but the ankles were not connected to her wrists but rather to the ropes around her elbows. So I passed the rope over the ropes on her elbows, down and through the forearms then back to the ankles. I made it follow that route another time so it was doubled up. When I pulled on that, her legs folded nicely. Her feet came even with her hands. That was good, but I could tell her body was flexible enough to take more. So I continued pulling. Slowly her feet passed by her hands. Eventually her body would bend backwards no more, so I tied the rope off with several tight knots at her elbows.

“Oh, like wow! You really know what you’re doing,” she exclaimed. “The only person who ties me this tightly is Stella. Well, sometimes Mark - he’s my boyfriend - ties me this tightly. But usually I have to prompt him to do it extra tight.”

She wiggled from side to side a couple times.

“This,” she said seriously, “is going to be hard.”

She wiggled some more and I felt the room grow hotter. They really should do something about that air conditioning.

Damn but she was a nice package! A fine body wrapped tightly in ropes and hardly able to move at all. What more could a man ask for?

Well, for starters, to have her tied so that he had access to her body - for sexual purposes, you understand. Tied this way, her wonderful little pussy was inaccessible. Likewise the rear hole, which some men like to use, was also inaccessible. Of the three holes suitable for pleasing a man, only one remained.

As I was trying to figure out a way to suggest that to her, she blocked my sensual intentions.

“Sled, you’d better put a gag in my mouth. A real bad guy would do that. There’s one in my suitcase.”

I checked, and sure enough, there was a ball gag there. It was pretty much a standard model, a rubber ball with a leather strap shoved through it. Push the ball into the girl’s mouth, then buckled the strap behind her head and you have silenced her. Well, not totally. She can still make noise, especially through her nose. But with her tongue pushed down and that ball filling her mouth, understandable words were impossible. I know. I had seen enough girls at that sorority trying to plead and beg while tied and gagged in that manner to know that they could not form real words.

When I put the ball in front of Blaze’s mouth, she opened wide. What a lovely mouth she had! So soft looking. Those lips looked as if they could really do a number on a man’s penis, were he lucky enough to get in inside there. The ball fitted in nicely, filling the mouth and forcing the jaw open. I began buckling the strap in the back when she made “nnnggghhh” noises and tried shaking her head. Was she trying to tell me she had changed her mind and didn’t want to be gagged? Or, even worse, that she no longer wanted practice time?

I pulled the ball out. Didn’t want to. After all, when a man goes to all this trouble to please a woman, it’s a shame to suddenly quit just when you’re putting on the finishing touches.

“Tighter,” she said. “You can pull that at least another notch tighter than that. Stella always does.”

I pushed the ball back in and made sure that the strap was as tight as my strong hands could make it. The edge of the strap cut into the corners of her mouth - a sure sign that it was really tightly in place.

She nodded to me and began feeling around with her fingers.

I knew that she would not find anything to untie. I also knew that she could wiggle and struggle all she wanted, but would be unable to loosen any of the ropes. I was too experienced at this to allow that to

happen.

So, I told myself, you’ve done your good deed for your fellow agent and she’s getting her practice session. Now what do you do?

I looked around. There was a TV, but I didn’t feel like watching shows in a language I did not understand. Besides, there was a fine show going on right before me. Blaze apparently found that she could reach no knots, so she was now trying to pull one arm while pushing with the other in hopes that the rope would slide some. They didn’t.

I sat in a padded chair and watched. She was straining that lovely, nearly naked body this way and that. After a bit of that, she rolled onto her right side and began trying to arch her body more, again in hopes of loosening something. Nothing loosened.

I watched this squirming and wiggling and rolling from side to side for a long time. I figured out later that it was at least an hour before she entered the next stage of her escape attempt. Perhaps she felt that more force might work some of the ropes free or at least loose. She began rolling from side to side violently. She also arched her body as if she were trying to break the ropes. This heavy duty struggling escalated until she was thrashing around like a fish out of water. Then, so quickly that I could not react, she rolled a bit too much and slid off the bed to thump onto the carpeting.

I knelt beside her and asked if she was okay. She nodded her head. Then I asked if she would like me to put her back up on the bed. She shook her head. So I went back to my seat and watched as she continued her struggles on the floor.

Her movements, while fascinating to watch, especially when one bra strap slipped off her shoulder and threatened to allow some additional exposure, slowed down. She began to take rests between the struggling sessions. Finally she lay unmoving on the floor, save for the rise and fall of her breasts. She was on her side, still tightly bound and helpless, and with her right breast half exposed. The nipple

stubbornly refused to peek out of the cup, but a lot more of the breast was showing than when she started.

I check my watch. She had been tied for two and a half hours! And struggling most of that time. Now her eyes were closed, and she was so unmoving that I wondered if she had fallen sleep. I had seen Linda do that. Especially after a vigorous lovemaking session. I really missed looking at her lovely body as she slept while still tied.

It occurred to me that she had not told me how long she wanted to practice. Of course, once that gag had been put in her mouth, it was much harder for her to communicate. If she was asleep, I figured that maybe I could call down and see about getting them to fix the air conditioning - I was sweating. I think maybe Blaze was too, from all the exertion.

Just as I was about to get up and get a drink, her eyes opened. “Hhhhappphh!” she said. No, I didn’t know what that meant, either. She repeated it, so I went over to her and knelt down.

“Do you want to be untied now?” I asked - rather reluctantly, actually.

She shook her head vigorously.

I had to do some thinking. Of course, I could simply take the gag out and ask her want she wanted, but… Well, I was not sure that was what she wanted. Since she did not want to be untied, it seemed logical that she would not want to be ungagged also.

Now, I have known kinky people and their games. I think I understand the sometimes strange logic those games follow. So I made a guess about what she wanted.

“You failed,” I told her, trying to put as much disappointment as I could into those two words.

She nodded, and looked down at the floor.

“And failure deserves punishment?”

She nodded again, with a little more enthusiasm. Her eyes looked up at me and I saw that glow in them that I had seen before, but only in some women. Only in those special ones who really know how to play the submissive game.

“But you don’t want me to untie you?”

Again she nodded.

“So the punishment will have to be done while you’re still hogtied.”

A nod. Then she lowered her eyes and waited patiently for me to decide upon a punishment suitable for a fail escape attempt.

I could whip the bottom of her feet with my belt. That would certainly cause her pain. A dozen strokes of the belt, especially if they were hard ones, would surely make her feel punished.

I could tell her that she would have to stay tied for four hours. That would certainly be a punishment and one that she would probably consider appropriate, given the nature of her failure. But we had to get a dinner and had a mission to perform that night. Another four hours in that hogtie and she might have a little trouble even walking when I took the ropes off.

Half a dozen forms of pain danced across my mind, but many were simply too much pain for this failure, or not really practical while leaving her in the hogtie. Such as hanging her by her thumbs, that would require untying her first. Then I hit on it.

I stood up and grabbed the ropes linking her ankles and elbows. Lifting her like a package, I deposited her on the bed. Then I sat down next to her and rolled her over so that she was lying on her left side and those lovely breasts facing me.

“Tell you what I’m going to do,” I began. “I am going to tickle you.”

Her eyes grew wide with shock - and perhaps fear. Suddenly, she began struggling even more wildly than she had before. She was jerking around and trying to roll away from me, so much so that she fell off the bed again.

Ah, yes, I told myself. She is ticklish! Probably extremely so, considering the efforts she was making to get away from me.

I stood, but before I picked her back up and put her on the bed again, I checked her suitcase. There was another length of rope there. Taking that back to the bed, I picked her up and placed her in the middle. Working quickly before she could roll off again, I tied one end of the rope to that joining her ankles and elbows, then knelt down and tossed it under the bed. Rushing to the other side, I pulled it through and up to her again. I passed this rope three times under the bed, and when I tied off the final knots she was solidly tied. It was face down, and I would have preferred her to be face up, but one has to make do with what one can.

I settled down and enjoyed the look of fright in her eyes for a moment. Then I began gently - ever so gently - touching her bare side with my finger. She reacted as if I had touched her with a red hot iron. Fortunately, I had her tied down very securely so she could not possible roll away or evade my fingers in any way. I tickled her sides, then worked my way up to the sides of her breasts. I had to pull her bra out of the way for that, but I did manage to expose enough of the sides to make a good target for tickling.

Have you ever heard a woman laughing loudly into a gag? It’s an interesting sound, somewhat like screams but not so loud. And, take my word for it, a lot of fun to listen to. I continued with all that bare skin available to me, seeking and finding nerves all over her body. I took a strand of her long hair and began tickling the sides of her neck with the end. Do you have any idea how many nerves there are in the side of a woman’s neck? There must have been thousands of them, because she wiggled and

strained and tried to shake her head violently to avoid being touched there. Even with her well tied, I had to struggle a bit myself to hold her still for that kind of tickling.

All good things must come to an end, someone once said. It would have been nice to be able to continue doing that and enjoying her frantic reaction for a few more hours, but I was getting exhausted from laughing so hard along with her. I’m sure that she was exhausted from an incredible amount of struggling over the last three plus hours.

When I reached for the gag, unbuckled it, and pulled the ball from her mouth, she did not try to tell me not to. Likewise, when I began untying the ropes from her body, she made no effort to tell me she wished to stay tied any longer. Well, even a wild little nymph like her has some limits, right?

There were deep red indentations where the ropes had pressed hard into her flesh. She seemed very stiff when she finally was able to bring her arms around in front of her. She looked at the marks and let her hands rest on her thighs while they recovered, but said nothing about how tightly I had put the ropes on. I’m sure that a good part of why there were such indentations was because of her struggles, not just how tightly I had tied the ropes in the first place.

“You might want to take a hot shower before we go to dinner,” I told her. “You’ll feel better and those marks will go away faster.”

She nodded agreement. I guess this was nothing new to her. But then, being a friend of Stella’s, it seemed only logical that she would be used to being tied up.

Blaze said nothing, but rose from the edge of the bed. I was still sitting on the bed when she leaned over, took my head in both her hands, and gently kissed me full on the lips. It was not a kiss filled with passion and urgency, but one that, nevertheless, conveyed a certain degree of love.

“Thank you,” she said.

Then, without another word, she pulled off her bra, slid down the panties, and walked naked into the bathroom for that shower.

Gosh, I wish Japanese hotel rooms were not so hot!