Yes, they ought to," Michelle replied, pulling her jacket cuffs down to cover the cuffs to avoid unwanted stares from the cabin attendants and other first-class passengers seated partially obscured by the big chairs nearby.

Michelle thrilled at the sensation at being handcuffed in a passenger jet seated beside a man she barely knew and about to take off for New York City. But she felt more and more comfortable by the minute and sexily excited at what he had in mind for her in the coming hours.

She wondered when, and if, he would unlock her again.

After a half-hour of smalltalk and careful handcuff-hiding manoeuvres by Michelle, the big plane was taxiing out towards the main east-west runway to await clearance for takeoff. Moments later, Michelle was pushed gently into the back of her seat as the four big RollsRoyce turbines went to full power, hurtling the 767 down the runway and into the Nova Scotia overcast, southbound for the Atlantic coast and New York City - two hours away.

The flight showed Spike Lee's 25 th Hour , a post-9/11 look at New York City through the eyes of a drug dealer about to be sent up to Otisville for seven years, and Michelle was captivated by the acting abilities of Edward Norton and the supporting cast.

Before she knew it, the plane was ready to descend into JFK.

"Here we are, Michelle; I'll feel better if I uncuff you now before we go through US customs and security again," Philip said. "I don't want us to be delayed any more than necessary."

Michelle held out her wrists as Philip uncuffed her, pocketed her cuffs then assisted her out of the her seat, down the aisle and out of the big plane and into the brightly-lit, organized chaos of JFK airport's international arrivals area.

They passed though US customs with no problem and, collecting their bags, found the lower passenger-vehicle area and the rentals office where Philip picked up keys to the cherry-red 2004 Mustang.

Moments later, they were motoring away from JFK airport, on a highway that transected Brooklyn and in a matter of 20 minutes, Michelle looked out at the huge steel expanses of the Brooklyn Bridge that linked to Manhattan.

Philip skilfully drove into Manhattan, obviously knowing where he was going, and in 20 minutes, Michelle was amazed to find him pulling up to 60 Thompson in Soho, a luxury 12-storey hotel near the Lincoln Center.

"Reservations for Philip M. and Michelle M., please," Philip asked the jacketed desk clerk politely. "Yes, sir, and ma'am; passports, please, and a credit card, Visa , Amex or MasterCard ."

Michelle was taken aback by the rapidity of events that had brought her from rural Prince Edward Island to the lap of luxury in downtown Manhattan in a matter of hours. After Philip completed the registration, he took Michelle lightly by the arm and escorted her towards the elevator lobby.

Michelle and Philip were quickly en route to their first, longed-for, private encounter, bags to follow. Michelle's heart pounded in excitement as she entered the classy, mirrored elevator car that hastened them to the 5 th floor. Philip took her in his arms and hugged her lightly and she felt comfort and serenity she had not felt for a long time.

Down the hall and to the left lay door 509, painted in royal blue with brass numerals, secured with a heavy magnetic key lock. Philip unlocked it with the keycard, Michelle strolled in and saw a vision of immaculate loveliness that was entirely satisfactory to her discerning taste.

There, in front of her, was New American decor and comfortable luxury she had only seen pictures of. A huge double bed, thick, wall-to-wall carpeting, a large, curtained window overlooking Thompson Street with sandblasted, turn-of-the-century, brick-and-mortar buildings adjacent; a fully-equipped, sparkling bath, heat lamps, dressers, mirrors, bar fridge, TV, radio and stereo and Philip all promising for a super, sexy weekend.

A bouquet of carnations and roses waited for Michelle on the bed and she immediately spotted a long, slinky nightgown folded neatly on one side of the bed courtesy 60 Thompson.

"Tomorrow night, at 8 p.m., is La Boheme, with Renee Fleming as Mimi and Luciano Pavarotti as Rodolfo at the Met. so, dear heart, we have about 30 hours to ourselves; where would you like to begin?" Michelle now wanted to get laid in the worst way and bound in the most erotic fashion Philip could muster.

"Well, you could start by perhaps tying me up?" Michelle added softly, hopefully, sitting at the edge of the big, comfortable bed.

"I'll attend to that right away,' Philip said, busying himself at his flight bag. "We will release you at, say, supper time? Which is 7 p.m.; it's now just after 3:45 p.m."

"Get started, sailor; I'm waiting," Michelle said, feeling her sex-drive kicking into high gear as she threw caution to the wind. But she wondered why he used the pronoun 'we'.

"Right away, milady," Philip replied. "Permit me to kiss your hand before we begin?"

Michelle held out her right and Philip planted a warm kiss on the back of her soft hand, sending a thrill up Michelle's arms. She was ready for just about anything and she suspected Philip would be very good at foreplaying her to the right plateau before proceeding further.

But first:

Michelle watched as Philip withdrew long lengths of small-diameter hemp rope, a pair of handcuffs and ankle chains and a harness gag of some sort out of his bag.

"We'll start gradually, Witchie," Philip said softly as he walked behind her.

Michelle slipped off her Versace suit jacket and voluntarily placed her forearms parallel to each other behind her back, sighing with a slight annoyance as she began feeling the double loops of hemp drawn snugly but not too tightly around her forearms - the beginning of the Japanese cradle she had heard Philip refer to from time to time.

Michelle's first real-life bondage adventure of 2004 had just begun.

Two minutes later, she would be entirely immobile and mute but Philip had just begun.

Philip began humming quietly to himself as he passed loop after loop around Michelle's elbows and torso, pulling each length taut but not uncomfortably so.

"Oh, that bottle of Ontario reisling," he said suddenly, just finishing his first elbow tie on Michelle's blouse-covered arm.

"Gimme a sec., Witchie," Philip said, as he strolled over to the little bar fridge.

"Yep, it's there; cool, not cold; our treat for when you are tied up to my, er, our satisfaction."

"C'mere, sailor, and finish what you're doing," Michelle smiled, turning her back towards him. "Show me the square knot, the clove hitch and round turn and two half-hitches I've heard you talking about, seaman guy."

"All in good time, my dear: neatness, snugness and strategically-placed knots not to mention the willingness of the subject are the essence of good bondage, as you will soon see," he said.

Philip resumed and Michelle felt her bonds growing tighter and more complex by the minute; she knew she was being tied as skilfully as she had ever been bound. But she would save that little revelation 'til later, much later, she thought.

"I love my work," Philip said, as he kissed Michelle gently on the lips. It was the first time she had been kissed thus and she turned to return the gesture. But she could not move her torso without straining her arms.

Michelle's bondage had begun in earnest. And she was content.

"Nearly done here, Michelle," Philip said softly as he finished tying clove-hitch cinches snugging down her elbow ties to the two bands of eight passes of hemp that encircled above and below her breasts.

Finally, he passed a doubled, long length of hemp from her left elbow cinch, up across the back of her neck, descending to be secured at her right elbow cinch, ensuring the entire ensemble could not be slipped by any arm manipulation.

"There's much more to this tie, Michelle, but this is all I want to secure you with for the moment," Philip said, coiling up an unused, 30-foot length of 1/4-inch hempcord.

"Try those bonds for 30 seconds and see if you can loosen anything. Don't struggle too hard because the knots are so designed and placed that the more you struggle and pull, the tighter they become. But go ahead and try."

Philip delved into his flight bag for another package, out of sight of Michelle who was sitting on the edge of the bed looking curiously at her bound reflection in the dresser mirror.

" Miiiiffffffrrrrrr ," she groaned, as she tried to pry her arms apart. Nothing gave so much as a quarter-inch. " Mmmnnnng ." Fooey . Nothing.

"I can't budge at all, Philip."

Ah, music to my ears, Michelle" he replied. "The lower additions to this tie are either a frogtie, with which you should already be familiar, or a more stringent hogtie, and with those ties you will be utterly immobile. But I have something I want to give you first and I would like you to turn your back to me for an instant."

Michelle complied as she felt something cool, smooth and hard encircling her neck.

"Don't look," Philip said.

Michelle heard a little click at the back of her neck and felt something like a screw being tightened down into the band around her neck.

"There, done," Philip said, tossing a miniature screwdriver back into his flight bag.

"Have a look at your jewellery for the opera tomorrow night."

Michelle opened her eyes and saw her neck encircled by a half-inch-wide, curved band of bright gold, locked out of sight at the rear of her neck, with the date 18-04-04 prominently engraved in deep figures on the front curvature.

Michelle's first impulse was to reach for the collar with her hands but all she could do was wriggle her fingers. She looked at her face and torso in the big mirror, turning her head and neck this way and that, to the limited degrees her bondage allowed, and admired the fine craftsmanship of the expensive jewellery Philip had just given her.

"It cost about 10,000, from Cartier Corp., New York City, and I had it measured and designed just for you," Philip said. "Wear it with pride and remembrance of this weekend. It's 22kt gold, a pittance to the value I place on having you as company here this weekend. I hope you like it."

"It's simply gorgeous," Michelle enthused, wriggling around to face him. "I've never had such a piece of jewellery in my life; it makes me look so feminine, so, how can I say, owned? Is that the right word, Philip?"

"I think so."

Michelle stood up awkwardly and walked over to Philip, now seated in an armchair, and sat on his lap, snuggling her face close to his neck, feeling his warm, masculine scent. She kissed him on the cheek and lips and was rewarded with the sight of a firm swelling in Philip's snug grey-flannel slacks as Michelle swung her legs out in a more comfortable position.

"Reisling, my dear?"

"Yes, that would be fine," Michelle replied, feeling her new collar snug her neck as she spoke.

Philip excused himself, lifted Michelle easily and powerfully off his lap in one easy motion, plopped her on the bed, got the wine bottle out of the little bar fridge, popped it open quickly and brought the bottle back to the chair where the happy couple resumed their original positions.

"To heck with the glasses," Philip said, offering Witchie the bottle. Michelle opened her mouth slightly and Philip poured in a mouthful and then took two swallows himself.

"Mmm, good stuff," Philip said.

"Yes, my only favorite." Michelle thought, as she licked her lips, savoring the expensive Ontario dry wine.

The two lovers drained most of the large bottle in quiet enjoyment as Michelle, bound and sitting languorously in her lover's lap, watched the shadows of the mid-spring afternoon draw across the hotel room window.

She felt bound, warm, secure and slightly tipsy as she lay across Philip's lap, her head resting on his muscular shoulder.

Philip's hand crept down Michelle's right leg and under her skirt, easing it up, inch by inch, until he had reached her sex, kissing her fully on her lips as he did so.

Witchie tugged at her bound arms only once as Philip immediately located her ringed, swelling clitoris and the moist, outer recesses of her warm sex, snuggling her head still closer to his, bound as she was.

"Mmm, what lovely physiology, what inviting topography; so nice, so warm, so moist and so intriguingly inviting," Philip whispered in Michelle's ear. "Mmm," she replied softly. 'This guy is so corny', her inner voice chided.

Using his index and second fingers, he massaged and stroked Michelle's now-throbbing clitoris and clitoral hood slowly, rhythmically, her big, grey steel clit ring flicking back and forth. He then inserted two, then three fingers deeper into her sex to find her elusive Grafenberg spot tucked away just inside and to the right-upper curvature.

Tightly bound, Michelle's breath quickened and she spread her legs as widely as her skirt would allow. "Skirt has to go, darling," she whispered finally. "Button and zipper are on the right." Ziiip , and Michelle's skirt was around her ankles in a motion that took her breath away while Philip's nimble fingers began undoing the seven pearl buttons on Michelle's expensive Italian blouse, bound snugly here and there by the Shibari hemprope harness that encircled her forearms, elbows and breasts.

After a few seconds of tugging and pulling, Michelle's breasts, bound tightly above and below, fell under Philip's delicate caress. Like all men, she thought, he goes first for the nipples. There are other erogenous zones to the breast beside those, she said to herself, as she wriggled her body to face him closely. She was then forcibly reminded of her nipple rings as he playfully tugged on them, making her quiver.

Philip's left hand was still busily massaging Michelle's now very moist sex and Michelle's breathing became more rapid, shallow and pre-orgasmic as his right hand caressed her breasts gently, lovingly, exploringly, toying with her nipples now and then.

Gently, Philip continued stroking the pencil-eraser-sized nub that protruded from under the dark-pink folds of her clitoral hood and Michelle moaned softly as the first, warm, pink waves of sexual pleasure radiated up her abdomen, infused her chest, neck and face.

Michelle knew herself now to be in the hands of a quiet, competent and very-skilled lover by the time she had reached her first orgasmic plateau.

Presently, she was writhing in Philip's arms gently, trying to tug at her bound arms, while her lover continued to massage her clit and G-spot alternately with unrelenting, increasing pressure and frequency.

Moments later, Michelle felt her first orgasm break through like clouds parting pinkly, warm and humid, after a summer sun shower.

She groaned and shuddered as her pelvic-floor muscles, hard, rigid and undulating to Philip's finger manipulations, quivered her legs. Her breath quickened, gasping, as her heart thundered in her breast.

" Ohhhhhh, noooohhhh, Mmmmmm ," Michelle moaned, gazing with limpid eyes into Philip's face as the first little orgasmic wave overtook her.

Philip looked at her and smiled, stroking her clit more gently, sensing Michelle's second orgasmic wave as he kissed her gently on the lips, cheek and neck. " Ahhhhhhh, oh, goooood, mmmm, that is so good. Doooon't stop ," Michelle sighed.

Philip continued and Michelle came a third time, more quietly this time, but she felt a flood of ejaculate squirt out of her sex as a fourth orgasm wracked her rope-bound body, her hands now balled into fists as the exquisite pleasure transported her into subspace for the first time that day.

" Oooohhh, toooo good, Philip ," Michelle sighed. "Please let me rest; put me to bed and do me some more. But let me catch my breath."

"Here, dear, a little grape?" Philip held the now half-empty bottle to Michelle's lips and she took a large gulp.

"Ah, hic, mmmmm," she said. "S'good."

Philip placed a warm kiss on Michelle's waiting, open lips and lingered there, feeling the urgent sensuousness of this woman's mouth tight against his lips. He could not remember having been kissed so passionately before. Michelle tried to flex her bound arms behind her back but could not move them an inch.

It had been many, many years since a woman had returned his kiss so deeply, so eagerly, he recalled, and he knew he would remember that embrace forever. Easily, he picked Michelle up again, placed her on the bed with her head slightly raised on the pillow.

With practised ease, he snapped a pair of chains on Michelle's waiting ankles, looked up and saw Michelle's face echo feminine contentment. He knew then she was happy, safe and secure and that she would never doubt him again.

Michelle, too, realized this was inevitable; she, too, felt safe, secure and content, in bondage, with this man she scarcely knew but someone she had come to trust implicitly in such a short time. She could hardly believe her feminine sensibilities. Had her intuition abandoned her? Has he changed her, somehow, in some manner unknown to her. What sort of power was he wielding over her, anyway?

Here she was, in New York City, collared, bound and chained by her quite-talented lover/co-author/friend, and loving every minute of it. She reflected: This, to her, was the best the apotheosis - of her several bondage experiences. Ropes and chains, applied carefully, lovingly and securely, rendering her utterly helpless yet still able to please her partner, was the ultimate in sexual bondage to Michelle Murrin. And to her lover, too, she hoped.

Idly, she looked down her nearly naked form and saw Philip undressing, his thick manhood springing to life as he dropped his slacks on the floor.

" Mmm , big man," Michelle said to herself quietly. "I wonder whether his lovemaking is as good as his bondage techniques?

She would soon find out.

Philip slid into bed at Michelle's feet, placed her ankle chains behind his neck and back and slithered upwards to place his face directly on her sex.

Michelle's ankle chains were now taut across the small of Philip's back and she forced her knees wide on either side of his hips as his tongue began to flick and caress her inflamed, erect clit, back, forth, up and down. Michelle moaned in exquisite sexual splendour, bound as she was into helplessness and sexual ecstasy.

Moments later, the tightly bound woman was moaning and writhing in the throes of yet another mini-orgasm, her fourth in just several minutes, as Philip's hands and fingers crept up to find, explore and tweak her erect ringed nipples.

Philip quietly, carefully and skilfully brought Michelle to a series of several consecutive orgasms until Michelle's head reeled, overcharged by excitement, stimulation and near-climaxes potent enough to make her ears ring.

Utterly satiated, Michelle straightened her quivering legs and gasped: "You, my love, have just made my day complete. I've never cum this hard, this long, before in my life," she panted. "I've come these many miles to be with you. You have treated me as your lover, like your equal, like a lady and you have gone to great lengths to give me the greatest pleasures I have experienced in many years." (Michelle could not remember when she had been so sexually turned on).

"And yes, Philip, my lover, you have given me memories that I will cherish for a lifetime."

"Let's get dressed for supper, Michelle," was Philip's reply. "I'm starved and saving myself for you for later."

Philip replied, his tongue flicking at her clit again teasingly. Michelle could tell her mate was still extremely aroused and, obviously, he wanted more but was willing to wait.

"We've been making love now for just over three hours, it's coming up to 6:45 p.m., and supper is served at 7," Philip said, straightening his back causing Michelle's ankle chains to tighten even further. Michelle nodded, tugging at her bound arms behind her back.

"Hey, buster, how about untying me?"

Philip slid out from under her ankle chains, stood up and began undoing his tight, skilful knots and hitches that secured Michelle's arms, elbows and chest so securely for the past three hours. Moments later, Philip and Michelle looked at the several long piles of rope that lay on the floor beside their bed.

Michelle stood up on shaky lags and looked bemusedly at the red ligatures around her elbows, wrists and breasts while Philip unlocked her shackles.

"Which dress?" Michelle asked Philip, walking to the closet to hold up a couple of her favorites. "I prefer the little black number."

"Me too; Witchie; try it on."

Michelle slipped into her famous little, all-wool black dress the one her friend, Kelli, told her fit like a second skin - decolletage to there and hemline to four inches above the knee - making her look like everyman's 'babe,' as Kelli said.

She turned around for Philip's attention and her lover whistled his admiration.

"Dynamite, gal, that one does wonders for you. Look how the gold collar stands out now against the black."

Michelle looked in the mirror. Mmm . True.

"C'mere, doll," Philip said, and he gave Michelle a bearhug, feeling her big, soft, unconfined breasts flatten against his bare, muscular chest, turning both of them on yet again.

Michelle wriggled away reluctantly, started to comb her hair but was delighted when Philip crept up behind her, put his arms around from behind her and gently squeezed and tweaked her nipples into full erection under the thin, black fabric of her dress.

"Oh, you. You just know they are going to stay like that all night, Philip," Michelle said, smiling, trying to smooth down the ringed nubs that pointed so invitingly on the soft curves of her 42DD breasts swelling her cleavage so invitingly.

A few primps, brushes and squirts here and there and Michelle was ready; Philip was already dressed in blazer, white shirt, navy tie, grey flannels and shiny black shoes his new uniform and Michelle stood beside him, looking at their reflection.

"Hi, hunk," she said, patting his solid chest warmly.

"Hi, gal," Philip replied. "Let's get some chow, I'm starved."

The two walked, hand-in-hand, down the hallway into the sumptuous dining room.