Answer

Not the soft rope. No, the scratchy hemp rope. Not tied up in the comfort of the sofa or bed, or even on the plush carpet. No, tied to a stiff, unforgiving wooden straightback chair with no give. Not the typical knots that I could slip out of in an emergency. No, these were rough, tight knots in unpliable rope. No escape route. No safety net. Not this time.

It started as a stand-off; no quarter asked nor given on either side. And it ended up like this. In the dining room, with it's harsh overhead light. With me still mostly dressed. This was not our typical bondage; no, this was war.

You wrestled me into the chair after storming off and bringing back the rope. Held in place by the strength of your arms and legs while you tied knots and growled at me. My curses and cries unanswered. I look up at you now, my eyes wide in defiance. You look back at me, eyes narrowed, a thin film of sweat at your brow. I curse at you again.

"I'll gag you if I have to, until you answer the fucking question."

I snarl at you in response.

You raise an eyebrow. "I'm not kidding around here. I want the answer, and you'll give it to me, willingly, or unwillingly - I have ceased to care."

I wonder if you dare.

"Try me."

You do.