Copyright (c) 2000 by Rohana for BondoFox. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR
This story may NOT be copied, reposted, rewritten, edited, or anything I haven't thought of yet without my expressed written permission.
This is a work of fiction of an adult nature and is NOT -- repeat NOT -- to be viewed or offered to minors AT ALL. The author assumes NO responsibility in this matter. Under NO circumstances are minors to view, purchase, possess, or be offered this work. The author also assumes NO responsibility if the reader is offended by work of this type, as it does contain elements that may offend some readers, including bondage and domination, and in some cases, discipline.
Consider yourselves warned, so there.
In the crotch of a trunk of an old oak tree, there was a web that was very popular with flies. Every morning, the spider would step out of her home to see five or six flies snared. Most she would release, but for the one or two that caught her fancy, she would bind into silken submission. Then, tucking them under her long arms, she would carry them into her house where they would be installed in the parlor with all her other clients.
Some she would hang face down. Others she would tie to a column, the table, or a chair in the corner. Over the next day or so, her multiple arms and countless fingers would caress, fondle, tickle, pinch, and grope her charges. The flies, helplessly bound, would become more and more excited until their little hearts pounded. As they eventually slipped into blissful dazes, she would quickly and discreetly drain their pressurized blood. The flies did not mind - with lives so very short, they were willing to trade limited quantity for superior quality. All died with smiles on their faces.
For the most part, the spider loved her work. She enjoyed coming up with new ways to rope her guests. She loved to tickle and molest them until they were screaming into their silken gags. But at night, after all her guests had been settled into their restless, uncomfortable sleeps, she would sit in her chair and think. Sometimes she would spool out a line and tie her own long legs together, then lean back and study her handiwork. Gags, blindfolds, and harnesses she would also produce, slipping on with checked breath. But she could never be totally helpless. Wrapping her cords around her wrists and twisting them tight might feel like being bound, but it was not the same. She knew that she was not totally helpless, that she could always step away from her self-imposed captivity.
Some nights this drove her to such anger that she would spin out a whip and lay into the flies. Unable to tell the difference between her loving rages and angry rages, they moaned as they swung in their bondages. Frustrated, she would go to her room, lie in her bed, and stare at the ceiling until dawn.
Other bugs, fascinated by her lifestyle, sought her attentions. One morning she discovered a wasp in her web. She released him, explaining that she was not into piercing. Another time, she found a large stink bug. For a moment she almost consented, but then realized that humiliation was only fun when accompanied with bondage. Time passed and her craft started to suffer. The flies began to complain of ropes too tight, ropes too loose, or cramps, something no fly would even notice if tormented out of its little head.
Then one day, she received a curious visitor. The bell on her web line jingled, and she looked out to see an earthworm struggling in her snare.
“What are you doing up here?” she blustered, checking her lines for damage.
“A robin was carrying me to its nest and dropped me. Pull me in and save me!”
But the spider had ducked back inside. She knew that the robin was probably circling about, looking for his dropped lunch. She was mindful that, like the worm, she was on the bird’s menu.
“I’ve heard of you,” the worm called out. “If you save me, I will give you two great gifts!”
She asked what they were, but the worm wasn’t telling. With a cautionary look to the sky, she darted out, grabbed his coily form in her arms, and carried him back into her lair.
“So what are these gifts?” she asked, looking him over.
“This,” the worm replied as he twisted in her arms. Suddenly she found herself face down on her own rug, her arms and legs pulled into a tight hog-tie. She struggled against him but his coils continued to wrap around her, pinning her breasts, her elbows, and her many knees. To complete the package, his tail slapped over her mouth. In the end, she was helpless.
For a moment, she felt rage. She twisted her arms but found no release. And then she realized that THIS was what she had been waiting for all her life. She was bound and gagged, totally helpless. Lying prone, she felt a comforting warmth spread over her.
For the rest of the day, the worm placed her in various bondage situations. She was tied to a chair. She was hung from a rafter. There was no hope of escape, for when a knot began to slip, he was right there to snug it tight. The spider was in heaven.
That night she found herself bound spread-eagle to her bed. She lay in his coils, feeling wondrous. Smiling up at his tail (or was it his head?) she drowsed, “You mentioned TWO great gifts. What was the other one?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” the worm replied. One end slipped over her lips, gagging her again. The other slipped towards the vortex of her legs, pressing its way inside her. She squealed into her gag, twisting as he had his way with her. His voice drifted down mockingly. “Not only am I a rope, I am also a dildo!”
Now the spider’s life is a dream. Most days the worm is away, tunneling around, letting the soil’s moister maintain his flexibility. She passes the time tormenting her flies, bringing them to ecstasy and then backing them down until they beg to be finished off. Then comes the night when he creeps home and slips into her bed, and she wakes up to found herself helplessly bound, facing a day of tender torment. Lashed into a painful position, her many limbs pinioned, a tail cupped over her mouth, a tear of gratitude might occasionally fall, to land with a plop at her bound feet.