Bound to be Dared (F/self, F/F)

[Beaumains]

Excellent writing, @Beaumains. What has Cyan gotten herself into? While I can picture all kinds of things that could be done with pipes and rope, nothing suggests itself as a genre. I will be excited to read your next installment.

Thanks for your continued support and sorry for the wait.

It is not as common as rope bondage, but steel pipes like used for scaffolding can be used as well, creating a quite extreme tie-up. You can find quite a few examples online

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“You drive,” Gregory said, tossing his. I barely caught them. Gregory had had at least 7 drinks while I was sober.

“I only don’t have proper shoes,” I replied, kicking the heels off. They had killed my feet all night. Barefoot it was. I sat down on the soft leather, still feeling my sore bum and aching back while pulling the chair forward.

“Did you enjoy tonight?” he asked beside me. He clenched my hand.

I actually wanted to focus my full attention on driving the machine worth more than my student loans. “It was good. Great, I mean. Thanks. I wanted to get into that place for ages.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I also enjoyed it. What did you think of the game?”

Of course, he noted I had only mentioned the club. “It was a lot,” I replied. “I loved the steel beams entrapping me. That was a cool experience.” The steel rods, like those used for scaffolding, were tightened around our bodies, pinning the three of us down to the floor on our knees with a special rod below our pelvis pushing our asses up. The cold metal felt different than ropes or chains. It did not hug or move with my body, and resting against it put my weight on a single pressure point. If rope bondage was Gregory’s luxury BMW with leather chairs, the beams were like plowing through potholes on a wooden seat. My neck was sore. I had had to lift it or rest my trachea on the hard steel.

“And the game itself?”

Again, he noticed I danced around the question.

“I can’t say I would like a rematch.”

Gregory rested his left hand on my leg by lifting my skirt slightly as we left the car park. I had to focus. “But you did well despite losing. You showed a lot of strength.”

I smirked. I had bitten through the pain. The actual game had been a spelling bee where mistakes implied increasingly extreme punishments. Although I preferred numbers over language, it had been unambiguous that my opponents were also no bestselling authors. I had circumvented the ice cubes, blindfolds, and extra cuffs, but that was inconsequential. Although distressing, being imprisoned in front of strangers and having my top removed due to omitting the second s in connoisseur was an immeasurable turn-on. Seeing the man peek at my boobs and knowing they could grab them if they desired was a dark fantasy of mine. I could do nothing.

It had gone downhill fast. All five flogger strikes were more excruciating than I ever encountered experimenting myself. The tickling had surely resulted in bruises as I had been cemented in the metal contraption. Like an egg, too much space and hard edges cause more damage than a soft, tight enclosure when shaken. Misspelling iridescent would make a paddle color my bottoms even more. I lucked out of having a bucket of ice water emptied over my head, being zapped with electricity, and two rounds of nipple clamps. A riding crop directed at my breasts had been the straw that broke the camel’s bag. I tapped out first. I lost. The other two women had endured more punishments, but they affected them less.

“I’m just not as experienced. Sorry. Pain is not my cup of tea. I never understood it. Or well as anything more than a playful stimulant.”

“It’s completely fine. It was a long shot, and you gave it your all. That’s all that matters.”

“But you lost the 100 dollar bet.”

Gregory squeezed my leg harder. “I couldn’t care less about that money. I was prepared to lose it.”

The other two women had battled it out as I showered and freshened up from the ordeal. Afterward, Gregory picked me up. In a lounge area, he and some legal buddies had drinks and discussed a controversial court of appeals decision. Meanwhile, I had been ball-gagged with my hands tied behind my back. It had been completely fine. I was too tired to be social and had been happy playing the trophy girlfriend and leaning against his body. Before midnight, he wanted to leave, needing to work the following morning.

“I’m just bumped losing. I gave it all, but it was not enough.”

“I have not known you for long, but I doubt losing bothers you much. It’s something else.”

“Maybe,” I replied. Having a lawyer question my feelings was not on my bucket list for tonight.

Gregory squeezed my leg once more. “For me, bondage is about the journey, not the destination. It is about emotion: fear and hope, defeat and victory, and surprise and relief. It is absolutely fine that you are not as experienced or have limits that go as far as others. That you love bondage and are willing to explore is the most important.”

I exchanged a smile before focusing on the road again. It was hard to pick my words as carefully as I desired and drive simultaneously. “You could be correct. I believed I was kinky and adored bondage. Now I am discovering I have done basically nothing and am not as tough as I thought.”

“And that is amazing. Why would you be unhappy when a whole country left to travel exists? I know you like being tied up. I have the pleasure of guiding you over well-traveled trails and through any unexplored wilderness. I couldn’t ask for more. Most bondage stories concern first times for a reason.”

I nodded. Gregory went above and beyond to comfort me, seemingly wanting a closer relationship than just bondage and sex. I trusted he was not disappointed I had given up.

At his home, we instantly went to the bathroom, brushed our teeth, and prepared for bed. I expected light bondage at most as Gregory was tired and had to rise early. I was wrong. “Are you still feeling bad about your loss?”

“A little.”

“Would you like to showcase how tough you actually are?”

I giggled in the blue pajamas. I was exhausted but up for a challenge. I loved sleeping in bondage, and with nothing planned for tomorrow, I was ready to test my limits.

“I have a dare for you. Do you think you can stay up all night?”

“Probably?”

“I mean standing still for seven hours.”

I blushed. It did not sound fun.

From a closet, Gregory fetched thick gray socks and a heavy dressing gown with an intricate Japanese-like pattern. “Put these on. It will get colder tonight.”

From a drawer, Gregory got ropes – white, soft cotton – and a pair of black leather mittens. The mittens were like oven mitts, so at least I was not forced to ball my fists all night. He locked them around my wrists.

“Don’t be nervous. You can wake me up if it’s too much. But you need a challenge if you want to redeem yourself properly. You can also call it a night. Your choice. However, succeeding will be a terrific personal win.”

I followed my host to his bed. He tied my wrists behind my back. It was very loose, more connecting the mitts than bounding me. I could still put my hands on my hips. My upper arms got the same loose treatment, and he led that rope to a hook in the ceiling that a lamp camouflaged camouflaged. Similarly, he linked my ankles to the base of the bed about two feet apart. The bondage was anything but tight, but I could not get out: The thick socks prevented my toes from working on the knots.

“Have a good night,” Gregory said, rolling into bed and flicking off the lights. Now the green LEDs of his alarm clock, smoke alarm, and red light from the turned-off TV stopped total darkness. It would not be easy. Gregory soon entered a deep slumber, judging by his breathing. Ten minutes had passed. 410 to go. I was unsure whether I liked seeing how slowly time passed by.

I tried to squat down, but the ropes around my biceps tightened. I could not sit down. Carefully, I pushed my knees against the thick mattress, trying to kneel down. The ankle rope connected to the base of the bed prevented this. I could only stand up, but I could not rest against anything. The ropes were sloppy, but I could not escape. My jaws could not reach a knot, my hands were in mitts, and the long, helpfully warm woolen socks disarmed my toes.

It would be a long night, and I was not hopeful, but I wanted to it an honest try. Gregory was correct: Succeeding would be a personal achievement.

[GreyLord]

Beautifully and skillfully written. You are revealing more and more of Cyan's depths.

[slackywacky]

Sneaking in a chapter, while I was not looking? Geez.

> Succeeding would be a personal achievement

It always is and I can speak from experience. It is easy to quit, but it takes strength to endure (and that goes for more than bondage).
Like @GreyLord said, a well written chapter.

[Beaumains]

Beautifully and skillfully written. You are revealing more and more of Cyan's depths.

Thanks a lot!

Sneaking in a chapter, while I was not looking? Geez.

Oops, this quotation might ping you...


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I awaited the last green digit to move from a 9 to 0, and the little movement made me almost jump. The ensuing alarm screamed louder than I had imagined. It was 7:00 AM. After 6 hours, 52 minutes, and some seconds, my torment was over. Or it should have been.

Gregory turned over and intuitively reached for the button to snap it off. He groaned unhappily.

“Good morning,” I cooed. My head hurt. My shoulders hurt. My back hurt. But above all, my legs hurt. Or, well, hurt. In most parts, I had lost feeling. Only my knees, ankles, and feet still sent distress signals to my brain.

Gregory pulled the blanket off his bare chest and curled his lips as our eyes met. I presumed he was so used to waking up alone that my bound presence changed his grumpy morning.

“You’re still here!” he exclaimed, much more awake.

“I couldn’t run away easily,” I replied, tugging the rope above me with my wrists.

“I’m proud of you.” Gregory approached me and, while hugging me, worked the knots behind my back. After my ankles were freed, I fell down on the bed to feel my body decompress and blood rushed around. That was painful as well. “Let me shower quickly. I am back in 10 minutes.”

Maybe I should have given him more attention, but my body and soul were too tired. Standing for seven hours is nothing close to a world record – it is common in retail and many other industries – but after a day of work and the evening at the Maiden, it had been anything but trivial. The night had been endless. Ordinarily, I was awful at pushing myself as quitting is so easy, but with someone in the room to impress, I had survived my all-time most boring all-nighter. The pay also helped.

As promised, Gregory returned within 10 minutes. He was naked, but I could bury my face in the covers of the bed. I had expected to fall asleep instantly, but a little rush of adrenaline and pain prevented me. He rummaged in his closet room, returning in a neat white shirt and classy black pants.

“You have no plans for today, have you? You could sleep here if you want and then we can have dinner after I have finished my workday. I’m working from home.”

I thought for a second. I wanted to sleep, rest, and recover, but if I could get paid generously while doing so, why not here? “Just sleeping?”

“I promise you can sleep all day. I won’t prevent that. However, I have my preferences…”

I was unsure. “Preferences? Sorry, I am exhausted.”

“Do you trust me?”

That was an impossible question. He did not want to hear the truth. I feared kinky ideas floated through his mind concerning me that would spark me no joy. The curve of bondage had already been quite steep.

“Okay, maybe not. I understand. At least I am happy you hesitate to lie. I promise you can sleep.”

The time to decline had passed. “Uh, sure?”

“Stand up and close your eyes.”

I obeyed and felt a mask being pressed over my eyes, and wide straps securing it ran all over my head to prevent me from rubbing it off, but my nose, mouth, and ears were completely free. It was also a proper mask that did not press on my eyes as cheap ones do.

The man untied the dressing gown and lifted it from my shoulders. The socks and pajama followed, and now my boobs wiggled freely in front of him. “I’m going to be nude, am I not?”

“Indeed. You frequently sleep in your birthday suit, don’t you? No need to feel embarrassed. I would love you to be more comfortable nude around me.” He leaned in and whispered in my ear. “There’s no need to hide that beautiful body of yours.”

Of course, I was just a sugar baby. A plaything. He could have removed my mitts, but he wanted to undress me himself like a doll. I cracked a smile when he squeezed my butt before he pulled down my panties.

Gregory continued by wrapping something around my neck. I heard a click. It was padlocked shut. “Let’s go.” I felt a tug around my neck and realized I wore a soft leather collar locked to a leash. Gregory kept it short, maybe two feet, as he led me downstairs. Going outside through the backdoor (I hope), he clicked the other end of the leash to something and told me to wait. I could do little else and enjoyed the morning sun brushing my bare skin. Like always, a non-restricting collar with a leash made me feel super submissive. It told my brain I would not be calling the shots. A previous boyfriend, the abusive one, used to make putting it on a ritual, signaling his control. Later, the collar remained, but the significance had worn off as he put no effort into the scenes but still treated me like a slave.

He returned with a mattress and made my bed on the wooden back porch.

“You can go to sleep now. You are next to the window of my study, so I can keep an eye on you. If something is wrong or you have had enough sleep, sit up. If something is badly wrong, bounce on the windows. Sleep tight.” Gregory hugged me before saying that he was running late and had to make breakfast.

I imagined him watching me lie down and cover myself with the fleece blanket. The mitts around my wrists made the latter difficult. I closed my eyes and slept deeply.



I awoke many hours later. Okay, that was a lie. I had been messing with the blanket, and Gregory had come in to tuck me in. Besides, I had slept like a rock, considering I was outside in the sun. I did not want to change my sleep schedule too much, so I sat up as instructed. The light shone from above, so I expected it to be early in the afternoon.

“Slept enough?”

“My prince can kiss me back to the awake,” I replied, knowing such things would happen sooner or later. It would actually not be that bad, would it?

Gregory laughed and leaned in, letting us touch lips. Although we kept our mouths closed, I could smell the coffee in his breath. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Cyanderella.” He unlocked the mitts and removed my blindfold but kept the leash locked to a ring in the wood. “I want to get to know you better. Please fill this in. It is 4 PM, so if you take an hour, I have a surprise for you at 5:30.”

He handed me a thick booklet, a banana, and a cup of tea before heading back inside and sitting down on a luxury brown office chair about 12 feet from me, staring at an expensive Apple monitor. I instantly noted he had given me a kink list, and it was long. For each of the 400 or so kinky items, I had to write down a number between 1 and 10 about my experience, how excited I was to do it, and how willing I was. Thus, more than 1200 numbers in total. There was little time to think.

Numbering the bondage positions (all sounded great, but, please, no water bondage, wooden horse, or hanging by my ankles), I moved to the fetishes. Honestly, only a small selection seemed actually fun. I don’t like worshiping someone’s boots, diapers, pain, or something crazy like “knife play” or needles. No thanks. But the rules section was the worst. It was just hard to imagine people doing these things voluntarily. Like being forced to smoke? Seriously? I also questioned whether Gregory should micromanage my clothing or prohibit me from making eye contact.

I barely finished when Gregory returned. “You look unhappy.”

I smirked. “I never felt so boring and vanilla before.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, brushing my cheek. “I don’t like most of these things myself.” He unlocked me from the collar and dressed me in casual clothes: my white sneakers, light blue jeans, and a dark green top. I applied light makeup.

I had not expected to get dressed for Gregory’s surprise. Strict bondage seemed more likely. I would love another hogtie. Any ordinary bondage would make my day.

“Arms behind your back,” Gregory told me, and I complied, grabbing the opposite elbows. With a ribbon, he secured them to my back. It was not a super tight box tie but inescapable without tools or help. I loved it. I could have never done this to myself.

Gregory smirked. “I had not expected you to stay for dinner, so we have to get groceries.”

I reddened, and my heart pounded in my chest. The implication was clear: public bondage. That was even better than a hogtie. Gregory pulled a brown leather jacket over my shoulders and zipped it to my throat. The sleeves were sewn in the pockets and filled with rubber sticks to suggest there were arms inside. A backpack was fastened to the back, but it was fake. In fact, a large part of the back of the jacket was missing, and so my arms were actually in the backpack, avoiding me looking like a hunchback. I turned around in front of the mirror. It was so obvious, I thought. All the hints were there that bondage was underneath. Yet, it covered more than

“I borrowed it from a friend. Shall we go?”

[slackywacky]

Public bondage outdoor... here we come (not counting the fact she slept outside).
Great chapter, thank you.

[GreyLord]

Professional grade writing, @Beaumains. The sugar baby concept is very spicy in the context of your story.

[Caesar73]

Professional grade writing, @Beaumains. The sugar baby concept is very spicy in the context of your story.

Very well said! And I do like the prospect of public bondage at the End of this Chapter!

[SarahM]

Wonderfully written! I can't wait to see what's next

[Vivianbound]

really fun, love the dares idea ^.^

[GwenGagged]

Keep it coming, I love these ideas. Wish my coworkers were more like this.

[Beaumains]

Public bondage outdoor... here we come (not counting the fact she slept outside).

What did you expect in this story ? I had to include such a scene.

Wonderfully written! I can't wait to see what's next

As promised, public bondage

Keep it coming, I love these ideas. Wish my coworkers were more like this.

Have you asked them already. I am sure many guys would be happy to help you with this.

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Gregory undid my seat belt and opened my door slightly. “Enjoy yourself.”

I laughed nervously. It was my first time bound in public. Or I mean a proper boxtie in a busy area because handcuffs do not count. I had seen videos of this, often set in Asia, and Layla had done it a few times. I had been jealous, so this was a dream come true.

Gregory fetched a shopping cart as I studied myself in the plexiglass. The brown leather jacket, sleeves, and backpack hid my secret perfectly. Or should I say our secret? My nerves were from excitement, not from fear. Most people barely pay attention to strangers, so I expected to blend in seamlessly. But the taboo and walking around with such an obvious and embarrassing secret made my day.

“Would you like calamari or steak?”

My brain took a few moments to register and fall back to Earth. “I don’t need anything fancy.”

“Then I pick,” Gregory said, grabbing two large Angus steaks. “I like mushrooms with them but forgot where they are. Could you ask that employee?”

I blushed. They were in a fridge near the other vegetables. It was not rocket science.

“I dare you.”

Further reddening. I loved Gregory. Such an easy thing to ask, which I would avoid when alone. Of course, he had chosen the only employee who was under 30. The woman was actually pretty and did not look depressed. She was the type of person forced to be on local promotional material.

“Hey, good evening. Can I ask you something?” I questioned as if I had not seen the “always delighted to help” on her shirt. “Do you still sell shiitake? I cannot find them anymore.”

“They have not moved. Maybe we are out of them,” an unhappy voice with a customer-orientated smile replied. “Would you like me to show you?” The latter felt forced.

I felt terrible forcing my hidden kink on her. One should not do that. “Thanks! I will look again.” I also voiced this sentiment to Gregory. Walking around like this was fine and bothering nobody, but approaching unwilling strangers crossed my line. I liked daring myself while not inconveniencing others too much.

“I understand,” Gregory spoke, probably not understanding as he was not in the service industry. We collected the remaining ingredients, and Gregory (again) bought me chocolate. Even in line with everyone doing tonight’s dinner shopping, I was unfazed. Nobody was staring. Nobody cared. The disguise was almost too good. Gregory placed the chocolate (one white bar with hazelnut and one extra bitter bar with orange) in my backpack against my bare arms. It was cold.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Thanks. How are you?”

“I want to do my shopping always with a bound beauty with me,” he said as we passed a couple. I doubt that they had listened. “Is it different not doing it alone?”

“It’s easier for sure. If I am discovered, you could help me out. If you deem it’s safe then I trust you.”

“So alone is more fun?

“I did not say that!” I reacted, maybe slightly too disgruntled. I was grateful for the experience. “You tied me up and drove me here. I could not do that by myself.”

Gregory laughed and squeezed my elbow through the backpack. “But would you like to be alone and turn it up a notch?”

“Sure?” I could run in front of the store for a while.

“Then get in the car.”

We drove to a local park I had never been to. From the car park, I could see young couples worshiping the sun, runners exercising, homeless people occupying the benches, groups of high schoolers gathered around bags of snacks, and families at barbecue stands. I could also do a round here, but Gregory’s plans were more ambitious.

“This is a key,” Gregory said, stating the obvious. It was a tiny copper key, like one would use for a diary. He put it in the front pocket of my jeans. “Someone in the park will drive you to my home, but they need the key.” He opened the door.

“You prepared this?” I questioned, quite impressed. “Wow, thanks.” I hoped to regret my enthusiasm soon.

“Of course, my dear. We can’t just do bondage that is to my taste. Now go, don’t keep them waiting.”

I gave him a kiss on the cheek and hopped out. Again, public bondage I could have never done by myself. Maybe I had to send Sky a message thanking her for her sugar baby dare.

There were maybe 250 people in the park. One was also secretly bound. I had no clue who. I recalled Gregory’s parting words: Don’t keep them waiting. Them. He did not even give me a gender. I could only cross off the children. Great. I did not want to overthink it and started wandering. The nerves, leather jacket, and sun made me feel hot, but I had to calm myself down and act as if I belonged. Or, well, should I? Someone also had to recognize me as a public tie-up enthusiast. I had to strike a balance.

I passed a smoking businessman on a bench. His suitcase rested against his leg, and I realized there were more options than cuffed hands. Ankles could be restrained, or someone was fixed to an object. Countless contraptions could result in needing a key to drive me to Gregory’s home. Alone was definitely more stressful. Now doubts roamed through my mind, but they did not come from fear of being uncovered. True public bondage was far less stressful than trying to evade people. If I was discovered, there was a 95% chance I would be silently judged and a 5% chance it would be slightly more embarrassing. But being found bound in the forest or nude in an elevator could have far more dire consequences. Here, despite having my unusable arms and no phone, I was relaxed. The bondage was hidden well. I had a secret, but more importantly, a job to do. My mind was not considering whether this gray-haired lady would suspect there was a boxtie under my jacket. I was solely considering whether she had one under her out-of-season puffy coat.

Worrying that the person I was looking for was walking in the same direction, I returned along the same route. There was just no one who seemed tied up. Almost everyone wore short sleeves and was relaxed, not searching for me. A guy passed me, rushing with his hands in his pockets. Were they cuffed through the pockets? Maybe. I would not be chasing him. A woman with an ankle-long dress sat cross-legged against a tree. She read a book, but cuffed ankles could be hiding under the fabric. I continued. Asking the wrong person would be humiliating.

“Hey, could you point us to the deer enclosure by any chance ?” a young woman in a thin white summer dress asked. She held hands with her boyfriend, who was clothed in hideous tight yellow shorts and a red polo shirt.

“Eh, sorry, I don’t know,” I panicked. I had been caught while daydreaming. “I have never been here before.”

“Okay, thanks,” she said before we parted ways, and I made another lap.

I felt sweat. Nerves. This was more difficult than I had expected. I started to worry I was stuck here, bound and alone. I already computed it would be a 60 to 90-minute walk to Gregory’s house. There was just nobody looking nervous and staring at the crowd. Were we in the same park?

For the third time, I passed the deer enclosure, where the clingy couple that had approached me before watched the animals while still holding hands. We exchanged smiles, and the women waved me towards them. “Are you looking for something?”

“Some friend would me meet me here,” I said truthfully. “Not sure where they are. I will keep looking. I can’t reach them. It was all a bit vague.”

“I understand, but I guess you are bound to find them.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, turning around. Had they noticed my bondage? The emphasis was too obvious. How humiliating. I turned red. Both could not fit anything spicy under their clothes save for a chastity device. “I found someone’s keys, made my way here, and now I cannot find them,” I told the lady. “Thanks again. Have a nice day.”

“Wait!” the man spoke. I turned around. “We’re looking for a key.” He removed his hand from his wife’s, showing a tiny, transparent pair of thumb cuffs bounding their hands together. They quickly covered it again. Only 20 yards away, a young family was feeding the animals.

I felt relief. Gregory’s “them” had been plural on purpose. I told them in which pocket the key was hiding, and when freed, we walked to their car.

[slackywacky]

Very nice update.

I can say that I have walked around Toronto and Ottawa while handcuffed, although I could always get out. Public bondage really adds a new factor to doing bondage.

[GreyLord]

@Beaumains, your writing is so good that it feels like I know Cyan.

[Caesar73]

@Beaumains, your writing is so good that it feels like I know Cyan.

Your narrative flows, effortless - always a pleasure to read!

[Beaumains]

Thanks a lot guys!

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Dinner had been awkward. Gregory kept interrogating me about all the bondage and emotions of the past 24 hours. Much had transpired. Only, I somehow had to explain that of all the binds, I had preferred the sole time he had not been close. The painplay at the Tangled Maiden had been too much. Standing all night was a challenge, but I would never choose to do it myself. Sleeping during the day had been okay but not particularly exciting. Meanwhile, the public bondage had been a bucket list item checked off. Even my first hogtie with him beat most.

“I understand. Interesting,” Gregory responded as I could no longer dance around the truth. Meanwhile, he never allowed me into his mind. He always only told me what he wanted me to hear. “I loved this afternoon, truthfully. You looked fabulous sleeping outside cuffed.”

“I’m not saying I disliked it. It was intriguing, but I don’t remember much. It was not my personal highlight. If you fancy it, I’m happy to do it again.” I was washing up the expensive pans that should not be put in the dishwasher. Not sitting across him already made talking easier. I deduced that Gregory was merely lonely, and not being alone while working from home already delighted him. He did not adore this particular bondage. “I prefer to do bondage I cannot do by myself. Outside and the hood were new, but I have slept cuffed and blindfolded many times.”

Gregory grabbed a tea towel to dry the pans. “Makes perfect sense. So, if you could choose a form of bondage, what would you like now?”

I had planned to go home and rest. I was tired, but Gregory would dismiss me when he was done, and apparently, he craved more ropes. “Something strict that does all the work for me. Nothing that is straining or requires me to focus. Nothing weird or gimmicky. Just plain bondage.” He had probably gone over my bondage list, so I hoped he understood me better already. Or he does enjoy these games of words to build tension and anticipation.

“I can surely help you with that. Sit down.”

I sat on the wooden kitchen chair, hands on knees, nervously staring forward.

“No, remove your pants first. They are a bit too tight for what I have in mind.”

I complied, and from upstairs, my host fetched natural fiber ropes.

“Legs up,” he told me. “Glide a little down and bend your knees.”

I again followed the instructions. I sat like a teenage boy in class, almost having my tailbone touch the edge of the chair, but my legs pointed up.

“Great, I am going to tie you like that. Is that fine with you?”

I nodded. I spotted a bulk inside Gregory’s pants. In this position, I knew where this was going. Somehow, I had made peace with it; it would have happened sooner or later. The pay was good. The tan, natural fiber circled my legs, tying my ankles to their respective thighs in a frogtie. My arms were bent behind the chair, and my chest was fastened to it. I was stuck. He tied ropes to my knees and pulled them outside and down, opening my legs up like an oyster showing their pearl. I was fully aware my white panties were in full view. I looked up and met eyes with Gregory. He had been staring. I had been before him, but this felt more exposed.

“Is this roughly what you wanted?”

I had mentioned the bondage I would choose, strict, but never that I wanted to be put in bondage now. But this was his party, not mine. “I feel some strain in my pelvis region. The rest feels good,” I replied. None of my previous boyfriends had tied me like this. At least one of them would have wished to have done so.

“Just to be sure, do you consent?”

“I consent.”

Gregory lowered his pants and boxer shorts and put them on the kitchen table. His manhood had hardened, and I had imagined something worse. Maybe it is not cordial to describe his member online, but it was average in size, neither small nor big. That was more. More positively, it looked healthy without any strange spots or discoloration. He put on a condom, so at least he cared about such things. Still, I promised myself to remain on birth control.

Gregory fetched a knife. Although I did not expect any actual knife-play, seeing him approach with one scared me, especially when he moved towards my unprotected crotch. “Keep calm, Cyan. Don’t move.”

I was trembling, but Gregory only cut away my white panties. Then he returned the knife to the kitchen counter. Next time, Gregory, please use scissors. I was also ungagged, which was odd for bondage sex, and Gregory surely had not forgotten it. I guessed he wanted to be sure I could communicate.

Removing the rags around my hips and pushing my shirt up, he let himself enter. He started stimulating me, and he knew what he was doing. It was not that I was turned on by Gregory like I was during the public bondage, but he worked his way to make me come. He came first, of course, but he continued until I was done. Some can learn from that. I did not even have to fake anything. He leaned in, and we kissed on the mouth.

“Are you satisfied?”

“Yeah,” I replied. Should I thank him? I opted out. I did not want to discuss this unexpected and quick workout.

Gregory seemed to enter my mind again. Silently, he untied me. “I would say you take a shower, and then we call it a night.” I agreed and hurried up, not wanting to think about the past 15 minutes. Maybe it had gone faster than I had imagined.



45 minutes later, I turned the key and entered my apartment. Metal blasted from the room opposing mine. I tossed my bag on my bed and jumped after it, lying down. I opened it and retrieved the envelope Gregory had given me. It had felt thick, but counting it before him was rude.

It was 1000 dollars for 26 hours of work.

I could not believe my luck. This was better than working for a month for 20 hours a week. I lay down on my back and stared at the ceiling. This was serious money. It came at a cost, but I considered myself lucky.

To celebrate, I went to the kitchen to grab a second dessert. I had some banana ice cream left, but sadly, when looking in the freezer, I noticed it was gone. It did not matter anyway. All eight of our cereal bowls lay in the sink, unwashed. Under my breath, I cursed out my roommates. I was not willing to clean up after the guys again.

[GreyLord]

Cyan may be on the way to not having to have those roommates soon.

[Caesar73]

Excellent Chapter. Loved the Conversation - the intimate Bondage Scene. Well done!

[Beaumains]

Cyan may be on the way to not having to have those roommates soon.

Hahahaha. I am indeed not being very subtle about that.

--------------------------------------------------

My life had been oddly fast, especially for a summer vacation where I had expected to be a brain-dead retail employee. Once a week, Gregory took me on a date – that is, to the Tangled Maiden – for dinner and a rough tie-up, and we spent an evening at his house as often. I would cook dinner, and then cozier bondage combined with a movie or so followed. At times, we would have sex, but his sex drive was not that of a teenager anymore, which was fine with me. He preferred my presence and staying the night anyhow. He loved having someone to talk to and escape the work cycle while alone with his thoughts.

So, what does this chaotic life look like? Let me bring you to a random Wednesday, 8 AM.


“Yeah, that feels goooooood,” I moaned, pressing the roaring vibrator against my clit. “Ahh, yessss,” was the only thing I could say. I smirked at my laptop’s camera, eyeing the empty parking lot to ensure I was still alone. “Thanks for allowing me to orgasm, guys. That was perfect.”

The timer of my recording read 16 minutes and 38 seconds. I had to continue bullshitting for three more minutes. I was not looking forward to that. I was alone in my car and spoke to my recording software, pretending to be a camgirl. It was a style of dare I had not done in a while, and it felt embarrassing. As it should. When forced to improvise a monologue, 20 minutes is long. I was mostly out of ideas.

“As you have been sooooo nice to me, guys, would you allow me to remove the clothespins now? I’ll let you vote. Oof, that’s close again,” I mumbled, knowing real viewers would never vote that fast.

“We’re approaching the end of the session, so we’ve got to make a choice. Ankles or breasts first? Let’s do another poll. Ankles first? Cool. Ah, now I understand it. You want to see my beautiful toes again. You guys are too predictable.”

I wiggled my toes before the camera and narrated how I unlocked the three sets of cuffs around my ankle. Why three? That was the number I had packed at home, and one sentence had left my mouth: “Oh, of course I should use all of them.” Using all of them had given me two more minutes of narration.

“Now there is nothing left than my boobs. So shall we get it over with?” I spoke, trying to encourage myself. I was not a pain person and knew what removing the clothespins would cause. For once, I was not wasting time and removed them at once. It still hurt. It was a stinging, continuous pain.

“That hurts. I don’t like it,” I said, speechless. “Ropes next?” I had not tightened the cotton of my breast harness much – the skin’s color was hardly darker – so I felt them as much as an annoying bra. I was 30 seconds overtime already, so I told my non-existent audience goodbye. “And I’m so glad no one questions why I am parked in front of a foreclosed trampoline park,” I added as my last sentence before ending the recording. I let my software put out a transcript which I skimmed, editing only “box type” once to the far more logical “boxtie” before I copied and pasted the text to our website. Dare complete. Any more editing was cheating.

I cleaned my private area with wet wipes before pulling on my underwear and work uniform while looking at the rest of our forum. Again, nothing unexpected: some dare reports and horny, lonely dudes craving interaction with “real girls” and fighting among each other. One title: “18 dares for @BoldFromTheBlue that are possible with @AmicusCuriae’s help” grabbed my attention.

Now @BoldFromTheBlue has almost unlimited resources, both in terms of money to spend on dares and people to help her, she should take the opportunity to expand her boundaries further than anyone here. Here are 18 ideas:
1: Be kidnapped by strangers for an unknown length of time.
2: Spend 24 hours as a prisoner in solitary isolation, cuffed, of course.
3: Try a serious session of strict D/S.
4: Be cuffed to @B0undB0ndGir7 for 24 hours.
5: Be the only nude person at a party.
6: Be tied up in another room during a party at @AmicusCuriae’s home while he has vanilla friends over.
7: Be tied and gagged while being forced to walk on a treadmill.
8: Be bound underwater using scuba equipment to breathe.
9: Life 24 hours while we make all of your choices.
10: Give a PowerPoint presentation about your life and experiences with bondage to an audience of at least 20 people. Of course, with plenty of pictures and an anonymized transcript.
11: Go couchsurfing for a week. You cannot sleep in the same house twice. And who keeps a stranger in their home untied?
12: Get people to make a professional bondage video where you are the model. Do enough research to know how to play with the audience.
13: Have a sleepover with some girls @AmicusCuriae knows and play truth or dare. Of course, it’s a set-up, and you get utterly humiliated.
14: Let @AmicusCuriae control more of your life, for example, using parental controls (sharing internet history, location, etc.) on your phone and computer, deciding what clothing you wear, etc.
15: Try suspension bondage.
16: Do bondage photography together. Find a nice outfit, a beautiful location, and an intriguing tie. Then go for a dreamy, relaxed look. Of course, post the results.
17: Go shopping to get a complete set of high-quality bondage outfits.
18: Offer to be the chef of a formal D/S dinner.
These are just some ideas, and I have plenty more, @BoldFromTheBlue. I hope it will be the summer of bondage for you!

Of course, AmicusCuriae was Gregory’s username. This user, whose name I had already forgotten, had interesting -- but scary -- ideas. After reapplying my make-up, I drove to my 8-hour shift. At least I had something to think about to drag me through my day.


Many hours later, I said goodbye to my colleagues and the unlucky evening shift. Riley had a day off, so it would be a relatively dull evening by myself. I was not too mad. Two days prior, I participated in an 8-person, 5-round escape tournament at the Tangled Maiden. I ended 7th, and my muscles ached the entire next day. I was not craving bondage as much as earlier. I would not decline it, but I was not yearning for it anymore.

I cooked a quick meal for myself and one of my roommates. The guy had been mountain biking all day. He was hungry and tired, so we did not speak much. Still, it is nice when your cooking is appreciated. I grabbed the package that arrived for me and went to my room. I had not ordered anything, so I was unsurprised it was Gregory’s and kinky.

The first gift was a vibe, but it was not your regular vibrator, being remote-controlled. The one I had bought for 30 bucks last year had been hot garbage: It was hard, ill-fitting, and the app was basic and still barely functioning. Grgeory had opted for a top-of-the-line brand with way more options. It could even be programmed. It had special programs and timers. Most interesting, for my sugar daddy, he could control it from his phone.

I installed the app and locked my door. I connected the pleasure machine to my phone using Bluetooth and tested it. It zoomed like an overexcited bee. I photographed the pink machine and added the access code. “Hey! I hope you had a great day. Thanks for the gift. I’m wearing it right now.”

The purpose of the second part of the package was also obvious from its packaging. It was a padlock with Bluetooth capabilities. I also installed its app and prepared it properly. Gregory’s status on our messaging app had been ‘writing’ for a while, and I awaited his message.

Would you want to play a quick game? Text me the log-ins for the lock and vibe, put the vibe in, and lock your chastity belt around it with the padlock. If you want more spice, tie your legs together and cuff your hands before you.

I did as I was told and threw in a bonus picture of me lying on my bed, nude, safe for a blue crop top and a bunch of chains and rope.

Perfect! I set a 6-letter password for the lock and will send it to you so you can free yourself. I hope you know Morse code.

I don’t! I messaged back as the first vibrations started. I grabbed a pencil and my notebook and began making notes as I softly moaned. Another orgasm never hurt anyone.

[GreyLord]

Ever-changing and inventive writing, @Beaumains. Great work.

[Caesar73]

Ever-changing and inventive writing, @Beaumains. Great work.

Nothing to add here on my Part - besides that: Consider me a great Admirer of your Style!

[Beaumains]

“You were not looking,” Gregory said. “You know what that means.”

“Immpphh Pffwaasszz,” I responded through the big blue ball between my teeth. It was too little too late. Electricity jolted between my legs, and my upper body squealed on Gregory’s study’s shiny, white stone floor. It was more aggravating than painful but still repulsive. It was not a sensation I craved.

Chains were locked to black ankle bracers that were meant for suspensions. They only kept my knees floating above the ground while their weight rested on my hips. According to Gregory, I was not ready yet to hang upside down by my ankles. My arms were forced behind my back with white fluffy cuffs. Then, save for those and the gag, some of my skin was only covered by a steel chastity belt that held the remote vibrator with unnecessary shock function in my wet pussy. My boobs jingled freely.

Around lunchtime, he sent me a text. “Hey Cyan, I hope you are having a great day. Would you like to come over this afternoon? Then we go to the party afterward.” I had never expected the senior lawyer to be susceptible to the Friday afternoon slump. After munching away a dry sandwich, I let myself in through Gregory’s backdoor while he was in an important meeting. Half an hour later, I found myself in this bound position on the floor.

“Keep looking at me. I want to see your lovely eyes,” Gregory had told me. If he looked up from his screen and I was not staring at him, I received a shock. Else, I was sometimes rewarded with more pleasurable buzzing between my legs. It would not lead to an orgasm, but it was a welcome change from the monotone waiting.

The floor was hard and cold. Staring at the left side of Gregory’s face for three hours was somewhere between watching paint dry and counting inventory at the garden center. Totally uninteresting. But it paid much better than both. The embarrassment of having my breasts fully exposed in front of my sugar daddy had diminished greatly, and I did not want to be seen fantasizing in front of him. I had become quite comfortable around him, which had surprised me. He hopped into meetings about millions of dollars all the time, but I was too good at staying silent. He kept his poker face and did not play with me during those meetings, so they caused anything but a turn-on. There was a clear line that work should not be mixed with his young bondage toy.

Weeks ago, I had learned and accepted that not all bondage was for my pleasure. It was almost a job. And I could complain about this work, but honestly, I could not wish for a better job. I enjoyed the best bondage of my life and got opportunities I could before only dream of. And the pay (yes, I mention it again) was better than any job a student could get. Stating this is a taboo, and everything related to its taxes is a gray area. Lacking an agreement for my services, the money could count as gifts, meaning a slightly better tax rate and even tax-free when Gregory paid for my tuition (this is not financial advice). But it was complicated, and I had to do more research.

“That’s it for today,” Gregory announced as he unplugged his laptop from the two large screens. He walked over to me, vibing me to gain my attention. “I know you like to be teased about future predicaments,” he announced as he unlocked my ankles. “Not because you cannot handle surprises, but because you like the anticipation and fear.”

I sat up and allowed him to unlock the cuffs behind me. My shoulders felt relieved.

“But you crave to know how much of a chicken you are. A coward. That it is too embarrassing to handle.” He squeezed my boob, which caught me by surprise. “You question what will happen so you can challenge your mental barriers instead of being forced over them. That is what will happen tonight. Do you want to know how?”

I nodded. Gregory was correct. The forethought, fantasizing, nerves in my stomach and forced binary decision between being a wimp or an idiot were all a core part of bondage for me. And plans change. Knowing what will transpire is impossible. There are always unknowns and randomness, but calculating these options is crucial for deciding whether to commit your limbs to the ropes and padlocks.

“We’re going to a private place for this party. Not the Tangled Maiden. Thus, we are not bound by state laws governing commercial establishments. We have more freedom and only a select number of people is invited, maybe 30.”

He unbuckled my gag, and I fixed my hair. Butterflies flew through my body. Tonight would be more than hanging out at the restaurant while I was bound and gagged.

“You are signed up for a special role at the party, one only a few attendees have. You will be one of the centers of attention. Do you want to guess what it entails?”

I loved what Gregory was doing. “Eh, I will be tied all evening? Be part of the decor? Or maybe as a waiter?”

“Good guesses, but that’s not groundbreaking, is it?”

“What kind of extreme bondage is it? Suspension? Or am I being wrapped or cemented and turned into a living statue?” Wild guesses. All wrong.

Gregory pulled me on my legs and messed with keys around my private parts to undo the chastity belt. “Imagine a separate category of extreme.”

I felt my cheeks turn red as the realization hit me. Did I want that? No, no, and no. I was adventurous but not willing and daring to go that far.

“It’s not an orgy, is it?”

Dealing with a dozen different dripping dicks did not delight me. I had seen videos and did not like them.

Gregory smirked but pulled his face neutral. “Would you like that?”

“No!” I blurted out. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright. I will never put you in a position where you feel you have to have sex with anyone. Okay?”

I nodded.

“But that does not mean I won’t let them play with you,” Gregory said, putting a hand on my hips. “Get dressed. We should get going. It shouldn’t matter what you wear.”

I went to the hallway to put my underwear, crop top, and skirt back on while Gregory changed upstairs in fashionable shorts and a blue floral shirt. His sunglasses and combed-back white hair fitted on a fancy yacht.

We drove to a mansion hidden in the forest surrounded by high trees, which had outlived all humans. The house was from a horror movie, where an unsuspecting family had inherited it. The ten cars parked on the gravel before the Greek pillars proved we would not be alone. Four Teslas, two Porsches, and a Ferrari only told me this was a rich-person party. I was not here as an ordinary guest.

“You go that way,” Gregory told me, pointing at the open main door. “Have fun.” He slipped behind the house, leaving me to find the courage by myself. I knocked on the thick oak wood. I was underdressed.

A glass door swung open, and a woman – I mean lady – with long brown hair as well maintained as a Hollywood actor, a perfect amount of make-up, and a yellow dress that emanated class. You could see it fitted perfectly and anything but fast-fashion. I had maybe seen her at the Tangled Maiden, but we had never talked.

“Hi Cyan, please come in. My name is Cecilia,” her smile radiated. “This is your first time volunteering, so you are quite nervous. We will take great care of you. Just be yourself and enjoy the ride.”

In the living room, three other girls waited, all dressed in heavy orange prison jumpsuits and black sneakers. Cecilia handed me a bag and led me to a backroom to change. “Afterwards, we go over the scenario and rules, okay? Also, please think of any phobias or uncommon limits. Also, fabricate a crime that landed you in prison if you have to role-play. The more outlandish, the better. I promise you won’t forget this evening soon.”

[GreyLord]

Cyan seems most taken by her sugar baby role. A most enjoyable read, @Beaumains.

[slackywacky]

I wonder where this is going. Good writing.

[Caesar73]

A magnicent tale @Beaumains !

[Beaumains]

Waggling like baby ducks, the four of us shuffled around the house. Our chained legs were connected such that we could not wiggle away alone. If that was possible, while 40 people watched four girls in slim orange jumpsuits. My wrists were cuffed together and locked to a chain around my waist. We were not yet gagged, but the steel rings around my limps and neck were all at least an inch in diameter and weighed as much as a dictionary each.

Violet wisteria, arches of pink roses, and many pots with purple and lilac flowers surrounded the elegant party tents, wooden patio, smoking barbecue, and many separate seating areas on the perfectly cut and colored lawn. The 40 people were scattered, drinking red, white, and rose wine from crystal glasses. They were dressed gorgeously, somewhere between a casual version of Succession, the White Lotus being a bit more formal, and a modern Downtown Abbey or Bridgerton. Women wore long dresses and had hair like Hollywood actresses. Men wore custom-tailored shirts, excellent fragrances, and expensive watches. Waitresses with white ironed shirts and long, neat aprons danced between guests while handing out champagne and salmon toast. In the middle, a female singer with countless tattoos and black waving hair directed the piano and cello to end their song. All the guests were older than me.

Gregory chatted with a group of men but did not make eye contact. I was not Cyan, the sugar baby. I was a sad, mishandled convict tonight.

Ambrose, one of our hosts, let us to the patio, where we were separated and forced on wooden stools. He hooked the back of our collars to chains hanging down and forced us to stand upright on our toes. He ticked a spoon against his half-empty champagne glass as Cecilia placed her hand around his waist.

“Welcome, welcome, my friends, My family. I am humbled to see you all this beautiful Friday evening at our modest garden feast. Last year, we had to hide inside, but this year, fortune favored the weather,” he announced. “As you can see, we again managed to arrange entertainment with the county prison. These four brave felons volunteered for community service and are under NDAs. If one speaks up, the early release of all of them will be canceled. Although, I suspect the content of their community service will surprise them. Feel free.”

“That’s enough, Ambrose,” his wife teased. Many gold bracelets dangled from her wrists. “Let’s not bore everyone much longer and allow them to enjoy the evening. Have a good time, folks!”

After a gentle applause, the crowd approached the patio curiously. “At least these bitches are useful to society for once,” a man joked as he neared my neighbor, Gaia, a girl with pink hair who had done this a few times. The man laid her hand on her breasts.

“Hey! Don’t do that,” Gaia exclaimed, balancing away on the chair.

“Have you read what you signed?” the man rumbled, and Gaia faked fear on her face. “Stand still and ask me nicely to do it again. I heard you have two boys at home. It’s one night if you wish to return home sooner.”

Gaia smirked subtly, enjoying the socially unacceptable exchange of words. They knew each other well. Much was allowed, including groping. We would not do blowjobs or sex, but it was more than just bondage. This non-consensual fantasy was consensual, and I was unaware of what awaited me. That was the game.

A small crowd gathered around Gaia, laughing about the man’s antics. They gripped her ass, filled her mouth with a penis-shaped gag, and lowered her to tie her up elsewhere.

“And what about this stupid jailbird?” a woman in her thirties with a foreign accent – probably German – told me, reminding me I was in the same ludicrous circumstances. An oversized straw sunhat and round sunglasses hid her immaculate face. “Looking quite young. What landed you behind bars?”

“Arson. I was framed.” I had been asked to create a brief backstory.

The woman chuckled. “Arson? And you are in maximum security? My advice: Tell the truth. You are not convicted for nothing. You’re only making yourself look even more pathetic by lying.”

“No, no, I was not...”

She pressed her hand over my mouth. “And you expect I gave a rat’s arse about your little legal problems?” She cackled. “How naive. Maxi, take this one down.”

A man whose muscles shone through his blue-white checkered shirt lowered me and connected a chain to the front of my collar. I stepped down as he tugged forward, but I was too slow. I fell forward but could fall first on my knees on the grass. I turned and landed on my back. My useless arms could not save me. The group snickered.

“Silly goose,” the woman said as Maxi jerked the chain, urging me to crawl forward. “How long do we have before the appetizer?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

Maxi yanked the chain again, letting me face plant again. When I got up, a leather shoe kicked against my side to floor me again. It was more of a push, allowing a smooth landing. Weirdly, I was in charge and set the pace.

“Auw,” I expressed, being hauled back on my legs and forced to the nearest seating area as fast as possible. On the table stood eight plates, each accompanied by two wine glasses, a water glass, ten pieces of cutlery, and a silky rose napkin. It looked professional.

“What will we do with this lovely criminal?” a lady inquired, mid-thirties with a hazelnut braid and a stunning lavender velvet gown. She did not present major domme vibes, more of a plus one of her husband. But in a group, people change.

“At least we have to erase that cocky grin.”

“Put something big in her mouth.”

“Something she will hate.”

“And then cover that donkey’s face.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to see that disgusting heap of sadness.”

“But I crave to see more of her,” a man barked, being the first to grope me. We locked eyes, and I had to admit his Italian look with a short black beard and deep chocolate brown eyes. I was flushing. For many, this would be the most embarrassing, painful situation imaginable, but it was an oddly exciting fever dream. Everything happened so quickly that I never could focus on one person. I was piled with attention and mockery. My senses were overwhelmed, and I floated in the direction the current pushed me. I resisted playfully but had submitted fully and empty-mindedly.

Another man grasped me and forced me to lie down on my back on a white stone bench. I tried to kick out – careful not to hit the nice clothes, but Maxi sat down on my legs. The German woman peeled my shoes and socks off. She wanted to press them in my mouth but was stopped. Indeed, I had only been wearing them for fifteen minutes. They were clean.

“Nah, Lotte, we can do better,” another girl spoke. She had lovely, hip-long black hair and looked Arabic. Her eyes were devious. She zipped open my orange jumpsuit and reached behind my back. “Please, no, please, I do anything. Stop this!” It was meant to sound desperate but also a sign to my elitist captors that I was enjoying the ride. I was playing along. This was the only context where ‘stop’ meant ‘continue,’ ‘lemons’ meant to tone it down, ‘oranges’ meant ‘to wrap the scene up,’ and ‘tomatoes’ meant ‘stop right now.’

The cups of my white bra were lifted, and the shadows cast by the evening sun danced on my nude breasts. I stared up, and seven or eight pairs of eyes glanced at them.

“I think she enjoys this.”

“Maybe more of a slut than I expected.”

“A shy slut but a slut nevertheless.”

My face had to be as red as a ball gag before two pair of hands seized a boob each. I had sunk low, but my mind did not register it. Too much was happening. I could not keep up but felt safe, even as the heavy cuffs were unlocked and the orange jumpsuit was pulled from my body. My white panties followed.

I had been told I would be nude in front of dozens of strangers and that the clothes would be temporary. Like a Christmas gift, packing paper and unwrapping it was the part that made it great. Feeling the wind blow against my pussy.

My panties, which were also almost clean, were shoved in my mouth, and a leather strap around my head kept them in. I screamed, letting my captors enjoy the slightly muffled sounds of happy despair. From a corner of my eye, I identified Gaia, the pink-haired girl, nude and dangling upside down by ankles as she was sprayed with ice-cold water. A large group encircled her, including Gregory, sporting expensive sunglasses. I braced for whatever awaited me.

A man returned with a hand truck bearing two heavy taupe chests. He put them on the ground, and multiple arms picked up my naked body and slotted my legs in the enormous chest on the ground. Even my knees disappeared inside, spreading my legs apart. My ankles and knees were forced between wood circles to keep them in place. The bottom of the box was filled with sand, so I was going nowhere.

The other box was placed over my head, resting on my shoulders as the hole for my neck was tightened. From the sides and bottom, light was shining through, but I could not see anything. The voices sounded weird. It was strangely claustrophobic, especially as hands touched my body from all sides. Then they cuffed my wrists to the chest to prevent me from swatting their arms away as they tickled my rib cage and under my armpits.

“She’s looking so much better now.”

“Now she doesn’t complain anymore.”

“Isn’t she a little wet?”

“Her nipples are hard.”

This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Under the gag, my face was glowing. This was so taboo, so hot, embarrassing. This highway of forceful bondage was so different than pushing my own boundaries with a dare, but I loved it. I was forced into a supernatural dream state and let everything happen.

“Such a cutie. What a waste of a life.”

“Any of you wanna take a picture with her?”

“Me, please!” Lotte reacted, sitting against my legs and touching my bare butt as her hair brushed against my midriff. The next person wrote something on my belly with a marker and put a clothespin next to it. What an evening.