He had found her attractive from the first moment they had met.  She had rebuffed his
advances, telling him she liked him as a friend.  She teased continuously, always standing
so close to him he could smell her perfume and her natural scent, but still pushing him
away if he tried to touch her.

She had immediately recognised how attracted to her he was, and took advantage of this. 
She encouraged him, and discouraged him at the same time.  She asked him to drive her home
after work, invited him in for coffee, but always invented some reason she needed him to
leave as soon as he started to look too comfortable.  Today was no different to start
with.  He drove her home, came in for coffee, listened while she told him about her former
boyfriends.  He tried to give sensible, unbiased answers when she asked him for advice
about love and sex, trying to be the friend she had always told him he was and not the
lover he wanted to be.

“I’ve always wanted,” she told him, “To tie up my boyfriend.  But I’m scared I’ll scare
him off.”

He struggled to answer this one.

“Look,” she said, “I’ll show you.” Jumping up, she headed to the door.  

“Come on,” she said impatiently, “You want to see this, don’t you?”

Startled, he let her lead him upstairs to her bedroom where he stood awkwardly as she
rummaged in a drawer and produced some short pieces of cord.

“These would do,” she said brightly, indicating the large brass-framed bed.

“I suppose they would.”  He hardly knew what to say.

She dangled the short pieces of cord in front of his face. “Gonna let me tie you up
then?” she asked, jokingly, but with a wicked grin.

“You’ll crease my shirt,” he replied, although he was excited by the idea.

“Take it off.”  She almost ordered him, excited herself at the thought of it.

In a daze he removed his shirt.  He let her push him onto the bed and loop the cord
around one of his wrists.  She tightened it, and threaded the other end round the
bedframe, tying that too in a quick knot.  She repeated the procedure with his other
wrist, leaving him lying there, arms outstretched.

She stood up and looked at him. “Uncomfortable?” she asked.

“No, not really,” he tried to keep his voice as normal as if they were still drinking
coffee downstairs.

“So,” she went on, playing the same game, “If I did it to my boyfriend then you think
he’d enjoy it?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“So,” she persisted, “You’re enjoying it?”  

She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes now fixed on the growing bulge in his trousers. 
He nodded again.

“And once I’ve got him like this,” she rested one hand on his stomach and slid it down to
his belt buckle, “I could take off the rest of his clothes and have him completely
naked?”

“Yes,” he croaked, having great difficulty in getting out even one word.  Her hands were
busy with the buckle and the zip on his trousers.

“Hey.....,” he started to complain as he felt both his trousers and pants being pulled
downwards.

She stopped.

“Yes?”

“Nothing.”

In one swift pull she had wrenched the remaining clothing downwards, over his ankles and
feet, and off onto the floor.  He was left completely naked and feeling rather exposed. 
He was uncomfortably aware of his erection now standing stiff and upright with nothing to
cover it.

As though talking to herself, she continued, “And once he’s naked, I could tie his ankles
as well.”