She should have known better really.  Her memories were her own and she had suppressed them for so long now.

It all started on a trip the Imperial war museum in London.

Grandchildren are such a blessing and she loved then dearly.  The youngest, Julie, was doing a big project about the blitz on London that happened during the Second World War.  Her woman through the ages project for her O levels was coming along well and granny was the perfect subject coming from an age where women had moved out of their homes and become factory workers and pilots and all the myriad of men’s jobs they now had to cover to let the men go off to fight the Nazis.

Granny stood in front of the big naval guns at the entrance to the museum.  And paused.  Her heart was beating fast now as she looked at the doors.  Could she go through with this she wondered as she was helped along by her grandchild.

The doors opened into a large hall, from the roof of which hung planes and a doodle bug V1 rocket.  She looked at it and started to remember the awful sound it made as it chugged across the skies of London.

"Granny did that take part in the Blitz?"

"No child it was only in 1944 really that these came.  During the invasion was the worst for them.  They used to come over in waves and when the engine stopped that was when you worried!"

She looked up at the black and white flying bomb and was amazed by how small it was compared to the damage it did.

Julie looked at her.  "WHY?"

"Well, when it stopped that was when it crashed and the warhead it carried exploded.  One hit the guard’s chapel on a Sunday morning and killed lots of people."

She paused remembering that day.

They wandered around looking at the different exhibits and displays.  Some things brought her a feeling of déjà vu.  On entering the blitz exhibitions Julie was surprised when an air raid siren started to wail.

Her Granny just stood transfixed and seemed to be in a different word. 

"OH GOD!" was all Her Grandma said and stood stock still.

In her mind she was back.  It was 1940.   It was the afternoon of September the seventh.  She had been married to Bob her first husband for 14 months and they’d just celebrated their anniversary.  He had gone off to work for the afternoon shift at the docks just down the road.  Their home was close to the docks and although small it was the only home she wanted.  Oh how she loved him even though he was a little weird.

He first tied her up on their honeymoon in Brighton just before the war.  It seemed normal for her and to be truthful it was fun even with the old contraception they used.  Her arms and legs had been tied spread and tightly at that.  And for the past year he had increased the time she spent tied and the harshness of the positions.

And now she wanted it more than he did and at times she shocked Bob with her requests.

Then the war started.  She had been so pleased that his job made him a reserved occupation and that he couldn’t join up to fight.

The morning had started off bright and clear.

 The war was going badly for Britain and the daily bombing of the airfields had increased the worry on the home front.  But then London had been bombed by mistake the night before.  A lone crew had jettisoned their bombs on what they thought were the Tilbury docks

Helen’s biggest worry was the rationing that had come in making all the normal things very had to come by.

Helen hadn’t seen a pair of stockings for ages and she hated the fact their last bondage session had finished her last pair off.  Still Bob’s job gave them a few extras and he had brought home a load of fresh rope from the dock last night.

She had a strong desire to scratch her nose.  It was quiet down her street since the kids where evacuated to the country.  A fly droned across the room.  Her ears were in tune with her surroundings.  ‘Well they have to be,’ she grimaced to herself as she was blindfolded by the hood he’d pulled over her head before leaving her.  Her mouth is also dry due to a wad of cloth stuffed in it.  A thin rubber strap held it in place and caused her discomfort.

She wished that was all her discomfort consisted of.  The rope he’d tied her with was a coarse and harsh hemp type.  And it was tight.  She had made it so tight by not completing her housework to his satisfaction.

It itched as well as constricted.  She shuffled a little trying to ease her stiffness.  The feeling of helplessness increased as the two wooden dildos that he’d made for her moved inside her.

‘Oh my,’ she thought as the deep feeling in the pit of her stomach came again.

From talking to her friends about sex she understood how lucky she was to have these sensations.  Most of their husbands’ ideas of foreplay were "Brace yourself!"  And orgasms were more by luck than skill.

‘Oh God,’ she thought as her body tried to straighten out.  The ropes holding her in this position made it impossible and seemed as always to add to the intensity of her coming.

She worked her hips as much as she could while the feelings built.

Pouring with sweat, she felt the heat of the sun streaming onto her body through the net curtains that covered the windows.

Helen was thankful that the house was higher than the path that ran past the little garden that separated it from the street outside.  She tried to roll over out of the sun’s heat.  But Bob had thought of that and she grunted in pain as the loops he’d made around her breasts and tied to house bricks pulled against the inside of her breasts making them bulge against her knees which were squashing them anyway.

Settling down she wondered what time it was.

She must have dropped off as she was startled awake by a noise.  A voice called, "Rag and bone, rag and bone."  Smiling to herself she realised it was Ned and his horse Dolly.  That meant it as nearly 4pm and he was on his way back to his totters yard down Dobson Street.

Only one hour and Bob would be home from work.

She moved a little to stir the dildos in her.  And she moved a little to tighten the ropes around her breasts.  Helen hoped he wasn’t too long as her arms had gone to sleep.  She began to flex her body as much as the ropes would allow.  But in doing that her inner tormentors began to work their magic and she felt it build.  Then the faint wail of a siren off in the distance caught her attention.  It seemed to be coming from the south down towards Croydon.

The next siren along joined its two-one wail.  And soon the one on the old warehouse in Waltham road began its ear-shattering moan.

‘Oh god it must be a false alarm; please god let it be a false alarm,’ she thought.  ‘There is no way I can get to the Anderson shelter in the garden; I can’t even get into the cellar.’

The sirens’ wail dropped off and she heard the next door’s back door slam and the key turning in the lock as Mrs. Bathton ushered her mother down to their shelter.  Panic rushed though her as she tried to scream but only a muffled sound came out.

In the distance she heard the barking of the anti-aircraft guns on the hills south of London.

She hoped they were going after the docks.

‘I must get behind the sofa,’ she thought, ‘it’s the only place with cover.’  She began to try to shuffle across the room.  The fact that her whole body was stiff and tied in a ball made it very difficult to move only a yard or two.

She had made two feet when she bumped into something hard.  It felt cold against her naked back and she realised that it was the wooden sideboard.

Bugger she was going the wrong way.  And she was near an orgasm as the ropes attached to her breasts had pulled tight and the movement was working the dildos.  The one in her bottom was pushing the other upwards towards that place Bob often rubbed with his thumb.

A dull, out of time thrumming could be heard in the distance.  The sound of the bricks dragging was an added incentive to her as she felt the hearth rug’s edge against her back.  A dull thud was felt through the floor followed by the sound of an explosion in the distance.

She pulled against the ropes.  ‘OH MY GOD!’ she thought as she orgasmed against all the different stimuli.  Her mind struggled against her body.  ‘Got to keep going,’ she thought.

Using her feet to push against her body and her shoulders to lift she edged towards the sofa.

More explosions sounded in the distance getting closer and closer as Helen orgasmed again with her hips pumping.  Her subconscious felt the edge of the sofa and her inch-by-inch rush got her more orgasmic and hotter and sweatier, heart pumping and bottom bumping.

She hurt now.  The ropes were chafing and carpet burns on the sides of her breasts were aching.

She pulled and pulled against the bricks and as the explosions arrived in the next street she came again.  Vaguely she heard the glass blow in on the windows and was glad they’d applied the sticky tape to them.  The sofa shuddered and the horsehair stuffing stopped most of the glass fragments from hitting the naked helpless girl.  Bits hit the wall above her but she didn’t notice as fear and determination had given her such a rush.

Slowly the sounds of explosions ran off in the distance.  Helen gently came down from her orgasmic high and became aware of sounds.  A ringing of bells as ambulances came to the area.  More sounds.  Shouts, screams, moans (some of them hers) her body sore and stiff.

Mrs. Bathton was telling the world just how close it had been and "no, there was no one in number 23."

‘Oh god what if Bob’s hurt or dead?  What would happen to me?  Would I be found like this in a few years just a tied up dead body?’  Helen started to sob.

Mouth dry and an awful feeling of loneliness filled her.

Her body ached now and she moved gently to ease the cramps inside her.  Another problem was the strong desire to pee.

‘Bloody hell what next?’  Helen felt that the entire world had decided to make her life a misery.  First Bob then the bloody Germans!

She must have dozed off as she noticed that it was a lot colder now.  The faint crump of a time-delayed bomb echoed down the street.

Crunching of glass was the first indication of someone’s presence in the house.  She stiffened and a clutch of ice-cold fear ate at her mind.  Was it Bob or a policeman or a looter?  She heard an exclamation.  Well she should know shortly...

A warm hand stroked the side of her breasts.  She was so scared now as a finger forced her nipple out to the side.  It was rolled between finger and thumb making her gasp.  A tugging on her breasts and the cord holding the bricks was cut.

Hands picked her up and she sort of smelled sweat and tobacco.  The feeling of rough wool and buttons pressed into her.  She was worried now; although Bob smoked it didn’t smell of his pipe tobacco.

The arms bounced slightly as they ascended the stairs to the bedrooms.  She squealed as he dropped her onto the bed.

A tugging on the ropes holding her twin invaders deep inside her made her shudder.  ‘Oh god, no, this will totally finish a bad day off.’

The anal one was gently pulled out and she groaned, "I need to pee."  But whether he understood or not she heard a faint unbuttoning of his fly.

‘Oh well I just hope it’s Bob,’ she thought as she heard a lid being unscrewed.  ‘It must be as only he would think about using cold cream as a lubricant.’

They did a lot of anal sex as it was a way of contraception.

She was rolled onto her knees and felt the cold blunt end of a penis pushing against her.  Then it was deep inside her.

She clenched against it as the full length of him was buried up to the hilt in her.  She started to moan as it rubbed against the dildo in her pussy.

The man’s strokes built and the thrusting started to get a little frenzied and out of control.  A deep shudder inside her and her orgasm overtook them both.

The weight of him was pushing her face into the blankets and the gag started to choke her.

The man realised it and quickly picked her up and unfastened the hood.  In the darkness of the room she breathed a sigh of relief: it was Bob.

Undoing the belt holding the gag in, he pulled the cloth out.

Holding a dusty glass of water to her lips he smiled at her.

Bursting into tears she told him that she loved him and how worried she had been for him and on and on she talked as he untied all the ropes holding her sore body tight.

"GRANNY!  GRANNY!  Are YOU okay?"

Helen opened her eyes.  She was sitting on the bench in the big room.  The single beat of the all clear siren was wailing its echoes.

Julie was looking at her with a worried look on her soft face.

"Yes pet I think I had one of those flashback things you see on the telly."

Her granddaughter looked at her with those oh dear what have I done looks.  "Was it bad granny?  I am so sorry!"

She looked even more worried when her granny smiled a young girl’s smile.  "No dear, it was just grand!  A good memory that’s all."

Julie looked at her and wondered what would have given her granny such a smile.  ‘Oh well she’s happy.’  And with that they continued the tour.