Rita and I went to different colleges but had seen each other at a few sorority events and conventions.  

The first time I spoke to her was at a dimly lit house party in Boston, the familiar scents of incense and sweat lingering in the air. It was a Friday night, and the weekly kink-themed party for our sorority’s local chapter was in full swing.  

If truth be told, all our parties were kink friendly with a healthy supply of rope, gags, whips and crops. Plenty of custom devices were available from St. Andrew’s Crosses to spanking benches.  

A few initiates sat in a large cage, bound and gagged in their panties, their arms behind their backs, their legs tied together at the ankles, knees and thighs. They looked adorable simmering in their bondage and brought back memories of my own probationary period.  

As I made my way through the crowded room, I spotted Rita, the epitome of elegance and dominance. Her tall, slender figure was draped in a form-fitting blue latex dress, accentuating her curves and commanding attention. Her long, wavy red hair cascaded down her back, framing her piercing brown eyes. 

We had never really interacted much. I was drawn to her air of confidence and the way she effortlessly commanded the room. 

“Nina, right?" Rita's voice cut through the music, her lips curling into a seductive smile. "I've seen you around. You're quite the adventurous one, I hear.” 

That was quite a complement given the BDSM centric activities in our mutual sorority.  

"Yeah, that's me. Nina, always the curious cat. And you must be Rita, the queen of the Rostrum kinksters." I teased, trying to match her boldness. While my college had its kinky contingent, her alma matter was the preeminent matriculation for someone wired for BDSM. It was probably the main reason people applied, rather than the academics.  

“Guilty as charged. And I must say, I'm intrigued by your reputation. They say you're quite the expert rigger.” She took a sip of her drink. 

“For a switch,” she added with a slight hint of disdain in her voice. I came to learn later that her natural tone was always laced with sarcasm.  

“I have my moments. But I'm always eager to learn more. On both sides of the knots. Especially from someone as experienced as you.” 

At a fault, I was sincere in my response.  

As we chatted, I couldn't help but notice the way Rita's eyes seemed to devour me, as if she was sizing me up for something. Her gaze lingered on my body, taking in my athletic build and the subtle hints of my own BDSM lifestyle—the leather bracelet around my wrist, the lingering rope marks on my arms, the fading gag marks on my cheeks from a recent session.  

“I wonder if you might grace us with your binding skills. We have a very limber initiate in the sorority, and I think she would be a candidate for a reverse prayer tie.” 

I raised my eyebrows. I had experienced such a tie myself and knew it could be strenuous even for the most flexible subjects.  

We walked over to the communal cage and Rita pointed toward one of the bound and gagged initiates.  

“Stand up slut.” 

A red head hopped up to the bars. She had a well-muscled body that rippled under the tight ropes from her sorority sisters. A bright red ball gag was in her mouth, parting her lips to form a tantalizing ‘O’.  

“This is Christine. One reason I gagged her was she kept bragging about how flexible she is and her endurance in prolonged bondage.” 

There was a muffled acknowledgement from Christine, who raised her eyebrows at both of us.  

Most likely a brat.  

“I see, well there’s one way to find out.” 

One of the other sorority sisters unlocked the cage and Christine hopped out.  

We made our way to a section of the play area with an ample supply of rope, and I was pleased to see several coils of red jute rope already laid out. It was a good quality and would provide a different tactile experience for our subject than the white cotton rope currently gracing her body.  

Rita was definitely the queen bee of this contingent as I watched the deference the others gave her, as two of her sorority sisters freed Chrisine from her current ropes and even another made sure Rita’s drink was filled, while a fourth cleared the immediate area for us.  As condescending as she could be I was impressed with her quiet authority over the others. 

A small circle of onlookers gathered at a discreet distance, again with Rita’s consent.    

While I was always glad to show off my rope skills, I also enjoyed the chance to observe what appeared to be a Head Mistress in the making.  

“I want you to feel some true restraint, my little tease,” Rita said to Christine, whose gag had remained. I was impressed that Christine stood still, not rubbing her current rope marks but with her arms at her side, ready to be summarily bound again.  

I guided Christine’s hands behind her back and placed them between her shoulder blades, with the fingers of both hands straight, extended, and the palms of the hands touching each other. 

With the wrists tied together, I gave her a pose similar to a traditional prayer position, but with the arms behind, rather than in front.  

I was conscious that anyone, no matter how flexible, could find the position strenuous, but she seemed to adjust very well, her chin up and I detected the hint of a smile around her tight gag.  

Without any prompting from Rita, but for my own enjoyment, I immobilized her arms further, with additional rope around the arms and torso, pressing the arms against the back.  

She had cute breasts, and I took my time to fashion what I thought was a complimentary harness. I enjoyed her soft whimpers as my ropes covered her nipples. 

I was impressed with how close I was able to bring her elbows together in this position. I knew I had to be careful to avoid dislocating her shoulders, but she was a natural and her moans of pleasure increased, which turned me on also.  

“You must be quite the yoga student,” I whispered in her ear.  

Her eyes still closed; she nodded. Her face had reddened. I felt this position was stimulating her.   

My guess was right, and I began to move my hand down to her crotch. I looked to Rita first to make sure I had the proper permissions before I went further.  

After all, I was on her turf and since she knew my switch tendencies, I might end up bound and gagged soon.  

But I wanted to play with Christine first.  

Rita gave me that sadistic smile I would come to know so well and nodded. 

With one hand pressed against Christine’s back, I continued to slowly move my other hand, and sliding it under her panties, found reaching her waiting pussy.  

Christine’s body arched against my grip, her back bending as she strained against the restraints. Her eyes were now wide as she looked directly at Rita. I could see the raw need in her gaze, the longing for release. 

Rita remained calm, sipping her drink and nonchalantly engaging one of her sorority sisters in small talk.  

I knew her indifference toward Christine was a calculated strategy. 

"Are you ready, Christine?” I tried to make my voice a soft whisper in her ear as I softly massaged her pussy. 

There was a quick nod.  

“Not yet,” I said curtly and took my hand away.  

There was a muffled grunt of surprise from Christine, and I took additional rope from the table. As I folded the long coil into a loop I gave my own slight smile at Rita.  

‘You may want to cum now, sweetie, but let’s give you a little boost.” 

I wrapped the coil around her waist and brought the ends down and directly on her crotch. Normally, I would have tied it off at her wrist bonds, but given their position high on her shoulder blades, I tied it off on the lower part of her chest harness.  

I knew from personal experience a crotch rope could be enjoyable, frustrating or both.  

Rita raised her glass approvingly at me.  

I positioned Christine in a sitting position on a spanking bench.  

Ignoring her garbled moans, I bound her legs together with several coils of rope at the ankles, above and below her knees and her thighs. I cinched up on the ropes as tight as I could and enjoyed the deep impressions the jute rope made into her flesh.  

As I tied her long stems together, she writhed and wriggled, trying to get the crotch rope to hit her sweet spot.  

I took a step back after finishing and asked one of the sorority sisters for a mineral water.  

I said nothing as I looked back from Christine to Rita.  

I had done what my hostess had asked and would let her continue to set the mood.  

“Not too shabby, Nina,” said Rita. “Your reputation as a rigger is well deserved.” 

“Thanks,” I said, detecting the undercurrent of another agenda in her smooth and dulcet tone.  

Directed at me.  

“So how would you fare, under that kind of tie?” 

“I’ve had my moments.” 

“Do you like crotch ropes yourself.” 

“Absolutely.”  

Rita snapped her fingers to two of her minions and whispered in their ears.  

“I told my girls to pay attention to your work. How would you feel about giving them a chance?” 

I put my drink down, smiled at the two coeds and put my hands behind my back.