Finding an unmarked box on her doorstep left Mattie initially wary. In an age of booming doorstep deliveries, most wouldn’t have thought twice about a new box appearing outside their home; but unlike most, this one had no eye-catching designs or names present on the top. The sizable, rectangular brown box made her apprehensive to even touch it right away, until she noticed a peculiar logo toward the bottom of the side: a rope design wrapped into a beautiful bow. At the sight of it, apprehension morphed to glee almost instantly, and she cheerfully carried it inside.

Excitement matching a child’s Christmas morning that knew they were getting exactly what their heart desired, she opened the box and dug through the packing popcorn that looked like snow, tossed around to unearth a bright, beautiful, thick-looking white rope. Mattie’s eyes went wide and her breath caught, taken back to a recent conversation she’d had. Bearing a thrilling kink for rope and an open mind, she’d found herself occasionally engaging in other interesting kinks, the most interesting thus far being hypnosis kink. It was nice to meet friendly people in a local meet-up for it, finding it wonderful to learn how more than her found their interesting crossing along with others. Another member named Claire shared several interests with her, including hypnotism and rope; everyone was friendly, but Claire had been the most interesting person she’d met, experienced in many things. Some jokingly coined her a “white witch,” akin to Glenda from the Wizard of Oz; Mattie could see how the name stuck, but she laughed at that suggestion, referring to herself as more like Glenda’s kinky cousin.

Like Mattie, Claire found some of her best kinky experiences were when she could combine her favorite fetishes and skills; in Claire’s case, that meant rope, hypnotism, and magic. Of all the great members she enjoyed talking to, Mattie was most interested in learning from Claire with what kind of experience she could have in hypnotism and magic. After several talks during and after several more meet-ups, Claire was always happy to fulfill Mattie’s curiosity, and show her how strong her passion was. Wordlessly, both were slowly edging to Mattie’s inevitably asking to be the subject of Claire’s passions. A week before the package showed up, Claire told Mattie of a special kind of rope, one that responded remarkably well to magic spells, and people who enjoyed the concept and sensation of binding.

The details of the conversation ran through her excited mind as she marveled at the rope sitting in the box. To Mattie’s eyes, she swore it was shining in the daylight, even glowing. Every time Claire brought up her practice of magic, the reality of the possibility of magic teased her suspension of disbelief; proving magic was real was still a hard sell to her rational self, but Claire’s philosophy always managed to make a convincing soft sell: “If magic is all in the mind, like hypnosis, how could you not believe, let alone resist?”

Mattie’s hand finally reached out to touch the rope, and that question came over her like a wave, feeling it as easily as she heard it directly at her side, teasing her ear drums with warmth, and a hot promise. Fingers still direct contact with the rope, she took a deep, involuntary breath, and felt her eyes closing as she exhaled, expelling more than she meant to, leaving behind everything but thoughts and memories that became a vivid reality. Mattie could feel her own touch upon the rope, but see Claire touching it, trailing her index finger along its length as she spoke to it, imprinting, interweaving words and intentions in the fabric of it.

“A binding of agreement touches upon these words. Entities entering into harmonious treaties, tying one to the words of the other, and the other to the words of one.”

There was some force surrounding the rope itself, like a palpable substance easy to penetrate, as if allowing Mattie’s fingers to graze the material that looked pristine and felt like silk. She felt it like she could see Claire’s words flowing from her lips down to the rope, absorbing them like the substantive spell absorbed Mattie’s touch.

“Entities of different ends intertwining, reaching their crossroads, bound for the same destination, bound to find commonality, bound by one another.”

Mattie felt her head tip back like Claire’s did, and the words ran down Claire’s lips, and up Mattie’s forearm.

“Amiable to compliance, an alliance of charming and conformity, may the lace of understanding make the path and serve as guide and authority.”

The words turned into silence, spoken into the ether, into a language only the rope could understand; the image of Claire faded gently as the rope translated Claire’s control across her body, the soft ends of the white rope emerging from the box like a serpent, sliding its warm threading over her arm. Mattie could feel the translated words of “comfort” and “care” across her skin, required conditions for the magic to work itself over her; she took slow steps backwards, waiting for one of her calves to make contact with her couch, so she could collapse and fall on the soft cushions, as the impossibly-soft rope continued.

“That’s right, Mattie. Feel the bindings caress your body, taking you over. Bound to the rope, bound to my words. Your senses can’t tell the difference; you invite both to wonderfully restrain you. The more you listen, the more your body knows exactly how to acquiesce to what I want; every moment listening to me is another moment of splendid obedience.”

Like a marionette acting under another’s bidding, her arms reached up, elbows bending back as the rope began looping over her tender biceps, under her breasts, the sensation of both made her bite her lip a little as she felt the rope come together behind her, seated and intricately gift-wrapped to Claire’s distant design for long minutes.

“Feels so perfect, doesn’t it? Hypnotic obedience, rope, and the magic they hold over you. And it’s amazing how perfection can take shape, in more than one shape.”

The knot behind her untied itself, releasing her arms that fell forward, the pain of being kept there indistinguishable from the pleasure of sensual exertion. Mattie’s forearms never lowered past the elbow as the rope took on a new configuration, closely bending the forearm to her bicep, looping around the palms of her hands. She grew breathless, moaning while the ropes tied themselves to her front, accentuating and squeezing each breast with a tight embrace. Rock-hard nipples pressed into the fabric of the t-shirt she wore.

“Oooh, you look so held back, yet past the boundaries of pleasure. The perfection of my will continues to shape you, and how excited that makes you. And yet there’s more perfection to be had, as your skin tingles everywhere the rope touches, and any covered skin feels denied, yearning for my caress. Will more of you give in to what more of you wants?”

On their on volition, on behalf of her chest and abdomen, hands gripped the t-shirt and threw it across the room, mewling as the cool air touched more sensitive areas, colliding with white hot, hypnotic rope twisting in-between and circling the cleft and length of her breasts beneath the bra.

“Absolutely beautiful. The more you give in, and surrender your body to the rope, the better you’ll feel, such is the magic of my words, making the impossible possible. The reality of your pleasure grows, just like the rope manages to, the more you give yourself to me.”

Legs looking for what felt like a more proper placement moved to slip to the floor, bringing her feet together by the soles, as she felt the length of rope grow longer. Each tied end expanded itself like an unending echo of Claire’s words, growing in volume until it became as clearly audible as the ropes clearly wrapped sensitive thighs, calves, and ankles together, hugging her leg muscles hard with domineering pressure.

“What a work of art you’ve become for me, Mattie. Perfection redefined, embodied, controlled.”

The words poured down from somewhere above her. Realizing it’d been a long time since she opened her eyes and saw Claire’s ethereal form standing above her, looking down with a satisfied, mischievous smile. She was strangely opaque, yet glowing like the rope, flaring with energy like she made her new sub flare with restrained lust.

“Such a good girl you are Mattie. Claire’s good girl.”

“Claire’s…..your…good….girl.”

“Yes you are, bound to me in many ways, only in the ones that matter. My rope, your body, my hypnosis, your mind, my thoughts, your thinking, it’s all connected, interwoven, helplessly in my grip.”

Claire’s finger tips touched the rope, radiating pleasure wherever the ropes covered. Then her fingers touched the side of Mattie’s face, blushing and blossoming into the kind of surrender Mattie now knew was possible, educated and leaving all doubt behind her. Claire continued to stroke the side of her face, from her ear to her cheek, as Mattie’s eyes fluttered and her perspective changed.

***

Opening her eyes again, Mattie found herself seated back at the table with the open box, fully-dressed, looking down at the rope still in the box as she found it, with her cellphone in her hand, and Claire on the line.

“…grip? Hello, Mattie? Still have a good grip on the phone?”

“Uh…y-yeah, s-sorry,” she blushed in embarrassment, finding herself aware from a deep fantasy.

“No problem. I was hoping my description of the rope didn’t get to you too much, but it still manages to happen.”

“Might have something to do with the narrator, to be honest,” Mattie laughed, making Claire share the sentiment.

“You flatter me, especially if you’re saying the description got to you a little too.”

“Well….” shifting in her chair, she felt a collection of muscles pleasantly sore across from her. She recognized it as the exact kind of sore that lingered minutes after a really good rope session. She looked across the room to the couch, wondering if she was seeing her recent indentation, or if it’s what she wanted to see.

“Well…maybe?”

“Well, unfortunately I have to go for now. But…maybe…we can meet soon and show you the trancing magical power of my rope to you…”

The call cut out to the sound of Claire’s giggling, and what sounded like the word “again.”

It was a little frustrating, but at the same time thrilling to be left in such an ambiguous state; how every possibility was plausible made her giddy. She stood up to see the white rope again, touching it with a finger, hearing more soft words

“Again is warranted….when a binding of agreement touches upon these words…”