Hog Tie Knot Novels & Stories

“Nico…” “Shh.” He removed my hoodie, lifting my arms out one after the other while the horse walked calmly through the paddock. Nico tied our bodies together using the arms of the hoodie. He leant slightly forward, pressing my body forward and caught hold of Demon’s mane. “Hold on to his mane. Here we go.” He dug his heels into Demon’s side and the horse started trotting.

Seeing the rope in Kir’s hands make my own tremble. Dirk starts showing Kir knots. He loops the rope around the thick vertical beam of the striking post. He demonstrates a basic single-column tie, explaining the tension, the locking half-hitch, and the way to secure the friction so it doesn't slip and cut off circulation. Kir steps up and replicates the tie perfectly on the first try. His massive hands handle the rough rope with delicate precision. I writhe on the bench. The friction burn on my thighs is getting real. I’m stuck here, bare-ass naked, watching my amazing boyfriend learn exactly what I asked for.

I wasn’t about to share a room with one of Rico’s puppets. “Your dad taught me the bowline,” he called suddenly. I froze. “Come again?” “Afghanistan, 2011. Embedded with my unit for seven days,” he said, walking closer, his voice low and sincere. “He showed me how to tie a bowline around a crate so the rope wouldn’t slip when the chopper lifted. He said it was the only knot that held a man’s weight and his word.”

he whispered, kissing my neck. He was still deep inside of me and we both had to wait until his dick returned to normal before he could pull out of me. It’s another reason why knotting is only used for your mate - you both have to stay locked together like this. Depending on the wolf, it can take hours, but it strengthens the bond. I could feel the thousand sparks dancing over my skin. “Let me see you,” he removes my top from my eyes and I wrap my arms around his neck. I kiss his lips tenderly as I feel my wolf purr, finally happy. We had been knotted.

“We need to get down to business. Tell me what I can do to help get things moving.” With Alice’s guidance, they fashioned an adequate travois with young and pliable tree branches that were held together with rope that was made with long reeds of grass braided tightly to create the length they needed. They had enough hemp rope as part of the supplies that they’d brought to secure it to a horse but had to, once again, resort to braiding reeds together to make a tie down for Ari’s limp body.

With my large hood pulled forward and the dark sky behind me, my features must have been completely lost in the shadows. The boy grabbed the rope, then smartly looped it around his waist and tied a quick, secure knot. It was a clever move seeing as his grip might easily slip in the heavy rain and mud. Once the knot was secure, he gripped the line with both hands and gave it a tug, waiting.

He could tell. He returned to the cabin. Darkness had fallen. Snow was coming down. He crouched in the doorway and watched it. Gray Wolf lay at his feet, head resting on his boot. The white cloth on its right foreleg was wet with snow. He unwrapped it and wound a dry one in its place, torn from his own sleeve, gray-white. He wrapped it better this time. Not because he had learned, but because he remembered how her hands had done it. Two loops down from the knee, two loops up from the ankle, a knot in the middle. He tied a knot. Too tight. He undid it. Retied it. Looser. There.

He stepped by me, placing a hand low on my waist, and took the purple rope, unbinding it slowly. “Spread your legs amator meus (my lover).” I did as I was told, opening my legs to hip width, watching him closely. As he unfurled the rope he draped it around my neck, the rope hanging to the floor and pooling there. It was soft against my skin, sliding easily as he crossed it at the base of my throat, tying a knot there with the four strands, 2 on either side. He then split the strands and pulled them slightly to the side, making a pair of knots, once finished crossed one set across my back and the other through the valley of my breasts. In the center of my chest, he made a knot there, with a s

I could feel how wet I was, the cool air hitting slick skin between my thighs. “Hands behind your back,” he ordered, voice low and steady. I obeyed, trembling as I laced my fingers together. The rope came next. Soft jute, a little scratchy in the best way. He started at my wrists, tying them in a secure single column, then worked upward into that strict box tie — takate-kote, he’d explained once during one of our late-night “what if” talks. My chest pushed out, shoulders pulled back, tits framed and exposed. Every wrap was careful, every knot tightened with slow precision, like he was savoring the way it looked on me. Then came the hip harness, rope looping around my waist and between my leg

"First is the ‘Takate Kote’. It's a high box tie for your upper body. It locks your arms behind your back, pulls your shoulders back, and anchors across your chest so your weight is evenly distributed." Roe swallowed hard, her throat still tight from his deep thrusts, but her pussy twitched at the mere sound of his voice explaining it. "And the second?" she rasped out. "The ‘Futomomo’," Elijah continued, running a loop of rope lightly over the curve of her hip. "It’s a leg harness. It wraps around your thighs, pinning your legs in a way that keeps you completely open and spread, taking away any leverage you have to pull away from me."