Hog Tie Knot Novels & Stories

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

The youngest wolf in the group had his tongue positioned between his teeth in the specific configuration of someone applying more concentration to a physical task than the task strictly requires because the concentration is how they make sure they are doing it correctly rather than approximately, and the result of the tongue-between-teeth concentration was a knot that I could see from my position on the slope was going to be correct when it was finished. I picked up a loose plank from the distributed parts of the former platform and looked at Corin with the question of whether the plank was in the category of useful or in the category of inventory-of-damage. He gestured toward the frame with

I’m going to put her in a hogtie, a position that leaves her utterly helpless and perfectly displayed for me. After pulling her wrists behind her back, I bind them together. Then, I bend her knees backward, bringing her ankles up to meet her hands. I loop the straps and secure her ankles and wrists together behind her back. But I’m not done. I take a thinner cord and carefully secure it to the base of the ponytail I just tied for her, looping the other end through the bindings at her wrists. Now, every time she tries to lower her legs or move her arms, the cord tugs on her hair, forcing her head up.