Prologue.
I'm quite good at Math. So, by the halfway point I've finished the worksheet, confident enough to lean back. Stretch.
Look around: the room full of murmured silence and we aren't supposed to talk, to confer, but Mr Tennison often feigns both deaf and blindness in hopes we're actually helping each other.
And not simply gossiping.
Sarah: a friend, sucks at Math, perhaps in part due to simply not trying. Instead she draws. Both good at and somewhat obsessed with art Sarah snatches every moment she can to add to an existing or create completely new works, one of which, folded, she- smirking -tosses across the table at me.
And even hastily made it's amazing. Anime style, her preference, the four of us, our little group all hiding behind and peering around a tree. Dressed in khaki and camouflage, helmets, holding Xbox controllers or in Charley's case a keyboard in lieu of guns.
Because we're gaming later.
"I'll take that Miss Reaver." The sudden loudness, the close proximity when I'd been far to distracted to notice Mr Tennison's approach. Voice making me jump, making me look more guilty.
Because I am guilty.
Sarah blushing as her artwork is taken, confiscated. Embarrassed whilst I'm trying hard not to laugh, watching the changing expressions flit across teachers face as he reads my- badly -added speech bubbles.
Completely inappropriate for class: bondage talk, Mr Tennison's eyes flicking to Sarah, to me and I can almost see his thoughts.
Which notion breaks the dam of my control, and I laugh.
Detention, the word slapped out and down. A punishment into the face of which I'm still laughing. Not sorry, and besides the humour is deflection, keeping other thoughts at bay.
I could kill them all. Level the building, no survivors.
Maybe one day I will.
Website Migration Update
I moved the website to a new host, which I think will be more tolerant of the content this website hosts. Nevertheless, I do want to take a moment to remind everyone that the stories and content posted here MUST follow website rules, as it it not only my policy, but it is the policy of the hosts that permit our website to run on their servers. We WILL continue to enforce the rules, especially critical rules that, if broken, put this sites livelihood in jeapordy.
Jane's got a secret (mf+/f+) *STORY UPDATED 23/02*
Jane's got a secret (mf+/f+) *STORY UPDATED 23/02*
Last edited by RopeBunny 3 months ago, edited 12 times in total.
001.
"Free after dinner?" Loitering at the school gates, one of those 'time to part company and yet nobody wants to, for no easily explainable reason' moments. A chill wind licking at bare legs, and into the silence Charley's question.
"I." Small ghosted smile, maybe? "Am."
"Make that two." From Abbey, with a nod but Sarah's already shaking her head.
"Can't." Grimacing, because she clearly wants to be with us but. "I'm still grounded."
Because of the detention, despite how distracted she gets, with her art, Sarah turns in good grades, mostly. Her parents tend to come down hard on any lapse.
Unlike mine.
So, after dinner having exchanged numerous messages I swing slightly wide- but not the more extreme slingshot like angle I'd need for Sarah -on my walk from home to Charley's, collecting Abbey off the bench she's perched atop. Waiting.
We're all different, and yet we all conform to that generic teenage girl character type. Sarah, thicker limbs then any of us and like Abbey a natural redhead. She, Abbey, has the smallest bust though the difference across us to me, an E cup, there isn't much. Charley, ink black hair in stark contrast to my blonde cascade.
Different, but we're friends.
"Mum's on a date."
"And a good evening to you too." Grins swapped as Charley closes the front door because this isn't the first time, either for the game, or for these specific circumstances to arise and gift us the opportunity.
When Charley's mum goes out man hunting her daughter, at mum's insistence needs company.
For safety.
And with the gift of an empty house we're only too happy to oblige.
Kicking off shoes in the hallway, skinny fit blue jeans hugging my legs whilst Abbey's cream leggings flare out below the knee. Jacket and hoodie shrugged off and hung, exposing a yellow vest top beneath which my bust isn't well hidden. Cleavage. Abbey's red 'Devil' tee more modest, yet still a tight fit. The D sprouting small horns.
Get it?
Charley, because she hasn't had to venture out and brave the cold is in shorts, small crotch hugging grey spandex things with the Adidas stripe in red down each side, a baggy white 'Calloway' tee beneath which she's clearly braless.
Upstairs, eager to the point we almost run, half nervous- still, despite we're hardly noobs -giggles chasing us into Charley's room where she's got everything out. Ready.
"Two of us?"
"Two of us." Abbey, correcting me and joking, waved pointing gesture taking in her and Charley as opposed myself and her. "Wasn't it you last time?"
"Was it...?" All innocence, ruined by a surprised shriek as Charley- only half playfully -slaps my breast on her way passed, sting as she catches skin, the exposed tops of my E cups.
"Here." Holding our her hand, Charley shows us both three six sided dice: two black mirrored one a pale blue. "Blue ties black, okay?"
"Sure."
"Deal." Nodding, Abbey and me watching Charley close cupped hands, shaking, swapping and switching the order all three die tumbling in darkness before she stops. Offering up a narrow opening, the selection blind.
And Abbey loses.
Or, wins. Depending on your point of view, we all swing from damsel to captor and back, enjoying or suffering through as our moods shift and wane. We're all four of us, the absent Sarah too, happy to play our part. Whichever part.
Each of us has our own obsession: art for Sarah and sports- specifically and bizarrely golf -for Charley, but bondage is a love we all share.
We've collected quite the haul, spread over and constantly moving from house to bedroom since that first, playful and unplanned, time: rope, enough to cocoon us all twice over though none of it is good quality, and a half opened pack of plastic cable ties we're all too afraid to use, liberated from Sarah's house and very serious looking things.
One day.
Thick rolls of tape and scarves by the drawer full. A collection of canvas belts.
"Well...." Abbey, looking from occasionally giggling and occasionally playfighting us to the haul. Back. "Maybe...."
"Maybe in a minute you'll. Bitch." The last word pitched higher and thrown out at a dancing Charley, having darted in to spank my butt, now dancing. Laughing and bouncing away on light feet. Unsupported chest bouncing and without warning, aiming for and finding speed I dart, catching her breast and earning myself a a yelp of surprise. And a grin.
Playing.
"Right." Tutting as she grabs up a handful of scarf. "Come here and be gagged." Tutting again but smiling. "Noisy fucking."
We don't fight back, it isn't and never has been part of the game. After all we want to be tied up, gagged. Helplessness is an addictive drug, something I catch myself yearning for at times, if we go too long. Charley and me stop, standing still and opening wide in turn as Abbey offers up the knotted centre. Woolen scarves, which she dutifully, accompanied by harsh tugging and the occasional grunt, tightening.
Shutting us up, bringing on a little happy tingle. A low level buzz in my chest.
At Abbey's direction we two lay on Charley's single bed, side by side bodies stretching down the length. Straddled in turn by Abbey, climbing up with fistfuls of rope and a determined expression.
Laid on my belly, can't see but I can feel: ankles and knees, legs tugged tighter, pulled more snugly together then I'd been resting them in position. Pinch of rope through thick jeans, wish I'd worn shorts like Charley. Wish I'd offered to strip, we've all been tied in bikinis, bra and pants if we're feeling brave.
Turning my head to find Charley's already turned, the same far off, dreamy look in her eyes as in mine. Sinking into the semi trance bondage seems to create, nothing quite real. Only the binding, the helplessness.
"Gghhhmmmdddffff."
"Ssssmmmrrrggg pppfffggg."
"Definitely." From above, voice of God. Abbey, amused.
Wrists, and finally the crappy frayed in places rope touching bare skin, slight burn as it tightens, the coarseness pressing hard. Harder.
Tingle ramping up, the knowledge I- probably -could never get out of this without help. The impossible sometimes dream: being left.
A small uncoiling from the deep depths, the darkness I carry. The unspoken knowing that I could get out.
Offering.
If you only....
As a final touch, an added bonus and some extra fun for everyone. Abbey rolls and generally bullies us both onto our sides, using rope to pin wrists to wrists behind us, arms trapped. Leaning in to accomplish the looped tie, knees pressed to my bare belly.
Ankles similarly joined. And then our forced together bodies become both forced and pressed together: the belts.
Shoulders and waist, upper thigh and knee, ankle. Canvas belts don't have buckles in the normal sense, no holes. Instead the belt is fed through and pulled tight, clasped in place by a buckle you close like a trap. Abbey wrapping the trailing end around the belt each time, tying a knot by way of extra assurance things won't simply come loose.
Stepping back and up. Away, smile on her face, proud. Satisfied.
Got to do a proper job, after all, otherwise why would someone else bother doing likewise for you?
For an hour Abbey fiddles, but not with us. Something else we've never done. We've never been naked, nor topless, because it feels wrong, and for the same reason- the thought, weird, and I'm all tingles now, bound and lashed to Charley but that doesn't necessarily mean I want to kiss her, touch her -we've never played. Not in the intimate sense.
Abbey plays a couple rounds of Worms on Charley's gaming setup, time spent on her phone. Wandering the room, downstairs and returning with a drink. Watching us, occasionally, and whenever she does we make the effort.
Happy for the most part to lay, bound and gagged. Body, and from multiple conversations I know Charley feels it too, they all do. Body a rolling sea of sensation: the pinching rope, taste of the gag against my tongue. Charley's warmth leaking through, sweat building down arms and legs, breasts.
Happy to lay still, aside from the occasional shift and wriggle, working out the tensions. But Abby, whoever did the binding.
It's fun to watch the payoff for all that effort.
To watch us struggle, which we do. For her, in part, but we'd be liars to say there was no enjoyment to be found for the bound, too.
Struggling, rolling and wriggling, fighting the ropes and belts, and at times it feels like each other. Moans ramping up as we expend effort, louder, becoming in part out of breath, in part pleading.
Begging.
Even though we don't mean it, don't want desperately to be released early. Lost to the bondage you can't not moan, can't not beg.
Belt digging in at the tops of my breasts, no clue which are my arms and which Charley's, everything pressed close and tangled up. Rolling and straining, pushing back against her, pulling away. Sometimes facing the wall sometimes the room, and Abbey.
Over too soon, freedom neither of us asked for but the need to be careful, the unspoken- this time, but we have talked -desire not to get caught playing this particular game.
"Busy at the weekend?"
"I'm free Sunday," with a casual shrug, "but not-"
"-Not Saturday." Grinning, exchanged with added knowing looks. "Right?"
"Right." With a sigh, shake of my head. All the girls think I've got a boyfriend, someone older is what they've decided. Invented for me, since I won't divulge details.
Which they wouldn't like, believe, if I did.
And shortly after, Charley's mum returns, drunk and high on life and her arrival is our cue. We leave. Walking home through the cold, head bent against the ever present chill wind.
Home, and bed. Where I can't sleep, and not only because I keep wandering to thoughts of recent bondage, how it felt. Wishing and daydreaming myself back there.
Not only the bondage, the mind drifts, and I think about the hospital.
Five months ago, when I woke to find the darkness talking to me.
"Free after dinner?" Loitering at the school gates, one of those 'time to part company and yet nobody wants to, for no easily explainable reason' moments. A chill wind licking at bare legs, and into the silence Charley's question.
"I." Small ghosted smile, maybe? "Am."
"Make that two." From Abbey, with a nod but Sarah's already shaking her head.
"Can't." Grimacing, because she clearly wants to be with us but. "I'm still grounded."
Because of the detention, despite how distracted she gets, with her art, Sarah turns in good grades, mostly. Her parents tend to come down hard on any lapse.
Unlike mine.
So, after dinner having exchanged numerous messages I swing slightly wide- but not the more extreme slingshot like angle I'd need for Sarah -on my walk from home to Charley's, collecting Abbey off the bench she's perched atop. Waiting.
We're all different, and yet we all conform to that generic teenage girl character type. Sarah, thicker limbs then any of us and like Abbey a natural redhead. She, Abbey, has the smallest bust though the difference across us to me, an E cup, there isn't much. Charley, ink black hair in stark contrast to my blonde cascade.
Different, but we're friends.
"Mum's on a date."
"And a good evening to you too." Grins swapped as Charley closes the front door because this isn't the first time, either for the game, or for these specific circumstances to arise and gift us the opportunity.
When Charley's mum goes out man hunting her daughter, at mum's insistence needs company.
For safety.
And with the gift of an empty house we're only too happy to oblige.
Kicking off shoes in the hallway, skinny fit blue jeans hugging my legs whilst Abbey's cream leggings flare out below the knee. Jacket and hoodie shrugged off and hung, exposing a yellow vest top beneath which my bust isn't well hidden. Cleavage. Abbey's red 'Devil' tee more modest, yet still a tight fit. The D sprouting small horns.
Get it?
Charley, because she hasn't had to venture out and brave the cold is in shorts, small crotch hugging grey spandex things with the Adidas stripe in red down each side, a baggy white 'Calloway' tee beneath which she's clearly braless.
Upstairs, eager to the point we almost run, half nervous- still, despite we're hardly noobs -giggles chasing us into Charley's room where she's got everything out. Ready.
"Two of us?"
"Two of us." Abbey, correcting me and joking, waved pointing gesture taking in her and Charley as opposed myself and her. "Wasn't it you last time?"
"Was it...?" All innocence, ruined by a surprised shriek as Charley- only half playfully -slaps my breast on her way passed, sting as she catches skin, the exposed tops of my E cups.
"Here." Holding our her hand, Charley shows us both three six sided dice: two black mirrored one a pale blue. "Blue ties black, okay?"
"Sure."
"Deal." Nodding, Abbey and me watching Charley close cupped hands, shaking, swapping and switching the order all three die tumbling in darkness before she stops. Offering up a narrow opening, the selection blind.
And Abbey loses.
Or, wins. Depending on your point of view, we all swing from damsel to captor and back, enjoying or suffering through as our moods shift and wane. We're all four of us, the absent Sarah too, happy to play our part. Whichever part.
Each of us has our own obsession: art for Sarah and sports- specifically and bizarrely golf -for Charley, but bondage is a love we all share.
We've collected quite the haul, spread over and constantly moving from house to bedroom since that first, playful and unplanned, time: rope, enough to cocoon us all twice over though none of it is good quality, and a half opened pack of plastic cable ties we're all too afraid to use, liberated from Sarah's house and very serious looking things.
One day.
Thick rolls of tape and scarves by the drawer full. A collection of canvas belts.
"Well...." Abbey, looking from occasionally giggling and occasionally playfighting us to the haul. Back. "Maybe...."
"Maybe in a minute you'll. Bitch." The last word pitched higher and thrown out at a dancing Charley, having darted in to spank my butt, now dancing. Laughing and bouncing away on light feet. Unsupported chest bouncing and without warning, aiming for and finding speed I dart, catching her breast and earning myself a a yelp of surprise. And a grin.
Playing.
"Right." Tutting as she grabs up a handful of scarf. "Come here and be gagged." Tutting again but smiling. "Noisy fucking."
We don't fight back, it isn't and never has been part of the game. After all we want to be tied up, gagged. Helplessness is an addictive drug, something I catch myself yearning for at times, if we go too long. Charley and me stop, standing still and opening wide in turn as Abbey offers up the knotted centre. Woolen scarves, which she dutifully, accompanied by harsh tugging and the occasional grunt, tightening.
Shutting us up, bringing on a little happy tingle. A low level buzz in my chest.
At Abbey's direction we two lay on Charley's single bed, side by side bodies stretching down the length. Straddled in turn by Abbey, climbing up with fistfuls of rope and a determined expression.
Laid on my belly, can't see but I can feel: ankles and knees, legs tugged tighter, pulled more snugly together then I'd been resting them in position. Pinch of rope through thick jeans, wish I'd worn shorts like Charley. Wish I'd offered to strip, we've all been tied in bikinis, bra and pants if we're feeling brave.
Turning my head to find Charley's already turned, the same far off, dreamy look in her eyes as in mine. Sinking into the semi trance bondage seems to create, nothing quite real. Only the binding, the helplessness.
"Gghhhmmmdddffff."
"Ssssmmmrrrggg pppfffggg."
"Definitely." From above, voice of God. Abbey, amused.
Wrists, and finally the crappy frayed in places rope touching bare skin, slight burn as it tightens, the coarseness pressing hard. Harder.
Tingle ramping up, the knowledge I- probably -could never get out of this without help. The impossible sometimes dream: being left.
A small uncoiling from the deep depths, the darkness I carry. The unspoken knowing that I could get out.
Offering.
If you only....
As a final touch, an added bonus and some extra fun for everyone. Abbey rolls and generally bullies us both onto our sides, using rope to pin wrists to wrists behind us, arms trapped. Leaning in to accomplish the looped tie, knees pressed to my bare belly.
Ankles similarly joined. And then our forced together bodies become both forced and pressed together: the belts.
Shoulders and waist, upper thigh and knee, ankle. Canvas belts don't have buckles in the normal sense, no holes. Instead the belt is fed through and pulled tight, clasped in place by a buckle you close like a trap. Abbey wrapping the trailing end around the belt each time, tying a knot by way of extra assurance things won't simply come loose.
Stepping back and up. Away, smile on her face, proud. Satisfied.
Got to do a proper job, after all, otherwise why would someone else bother doing likewise for you?
For an hour Abbey fiddles, but not with us. Something else we've never done. We've never been naked, nor topless, because it feels wrong, and for the same reason- the thought, weird, and I'm all tingles now, bound and lashed to Charley but that doesn't necessarily mean I want to kiss her, touch her -we've never played. Not in the intimate sense.
Abbey plays a couple rounds of Worms on Charley's gaming setup, time spent on her phone. Wandering the room, downstairs and returning with a drink. Watching us, occasionally, and whenever she does we make the effort.
Happy for the most part to lay, bound and gagged. Body, and from multiple conversations I know Charley feels it too, they all do. Body a rolling sea of sensation: the pinching rope, taste of the gag against my tongue. Charley's warmth leaking through, sweat building down arms and legs, breasts.
Happy to lay still, aside from the occasional shift and wriggle, working out the tensions. But Abby, whoever did the binding.
It's fun to watch the payoff for all that effort.
To watch us struggle, which we do. For her, in part, but we'd be liars to say there was no enjoyment to be found for the bound, too.
Struggling, rolling and wriggling, fighting the ropes and belts, and at times it feels like each other. Moans ramping up as we expend effort, louder, becoming in part out of breath, in part pleading.
Begging.
Even though we don't mean it, don't want desperately to be released early. Lost to the bondage you can't not moan, can't not beg.
Belt digging in at the tops of my breasts, no clue which are my arms and which Charley's, everything pressed close and tangled up. Rolling and straining, pushing back against her, pulling away. Sometimes facing the wall sometimes the room, and Abbey.
Over too soon, freedom neither of us asked for but the need to be careful, the unspoken- this time, but we have talked -desire not to get caught playing this particular game.
"Busy at the weekend?"
"I'm free Sunday," with a casual shrug, "but not-"
"-Not Saturday." Grinning, exchanged with added knowing looks. "Right?"
"Right." With a sigh, shake of my head. All the girls think I've got a boyfriend, someone older is what they've decided. Invented for me, since I won't divulge details.
Which they wouldn't like, believe, if I did.
And shortly after, Charley's mum returns, drunk and high on life and her arrival is our cue. We leave. Walking home through the cold, head bent against the ever present chill wind.
Home, and bed. Where I can't sleep, and not only because I keep wandering to thoughts of recent bondage, how it felt. Wishing and daydreaming myself back there.
Not only the bondage, the mind drifts, and I think about the hospital.
Five months ago, when I woke to find the darkness talking to me.
Now that’s what I call an interesting start as you’d expect from yourself @RopeBunny
Thank you both, I do prefer/lean towards stories with a twist of the not normal.Bandit666 wrote: 4 months ago Now that’s what I call an interesting start as you’d expect from yourself @RopeBunny
I'll try to keep the chapters flowing
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 365
- Joined: 3 years ago
Very glad to see you back!
As usual, curious to see where this will go!
Ominous... And perhaps a tad worryingRopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago
I could kill them all. Level the building, no survivors.
Maybe one day I will.
Doubt that is the intention, but there is a counter-implication in the framing here that somehow having different hair color makes it harder to be friends. Found the thought amusingRopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago We're all different, and yet we all conform to that generic teenage girl character type. Sarah, thicker limbs then any of us and like Abbey a natural redhead. She, Abbey, has the smallest bust though the difference across us to me, an E cup, there isn't much. Charley, ink black hair in stark contrast to my blonde cascade.
Different, but we're friends.
Indeed! Captures the scene/moment quite well I think.RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago Even though we don't mean it, don't want desperately to be released early. Lost to the bondage you can't not moan, can't not beg.
And of course even more ominous...
As usual, curious to see where this will go!
-
tickletied84
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 500
- Joined: 7 years ago
- Location: Scotland
Mysterious, fun, entertaining, well written - it's another @RopeBunny tale!
Looking forward to seeing what the magic brings this time!
Looking forward to seeing what the magic brings this time!
The start of another great story.
Happy to be so
wasn't so sure, for awhile, but ultimately I missed the writing too much. I need it.So, onwards
BlissfulMisery wrote: 4 months agoDoubt that is the intention, but there is a counter-implication in the framing here that somehow having different hair color makes it harder to be friends. Found the thought amusingRopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago We're all different, and yet we all conform to that generic teenage girl character type. Sarah, thicker limbs then any of us and like Abbey a natural redhead. She, Abbey, has the smallest bust though the difference across us to me, an E cup, there isn't much. Charley, ink black hair in stark contrast to my blonde cascade.
Different, but we're friends.
No, wasn't my intention, but funny if it does/can read that way.Thank you both, wonderful to find comments, much appreciated
History.
Everything changes.
Six months ago, the day I slipped. Fell, off the roof- don't ask, I wasn't being particularly sensible -and into a bed and a drip and a coma.
All the associated machines, wires and tubes and a steady beeping, keeping me alive, a slow losing battle.
"You are dying. Girl."
Waking, five months ago, not having even been aware I'd fallen. The immediate- to me -past of the roof all blurred, groggy and fogged. Half lost memory, blocked. Nothing beyond a vague sense of slipping, tugging at the edges like a too late warning.
Be careful.
Awake then, soft sheets and hard mattress, and cold, everything unfamiliar, even my own thoughts those first moments.
Who?
Where?
Feel like shit, worse. Pain like a deep throbbing, pulsing timed perfectly to the steady inhuman beeping of the surrounding machines which are no doubt trying to protect me from the worst of it.
Failing.
Darkness, everything cast into shadow the sporadic and dim ward lighting doing nothing, no good. A part of that dark, beside me, shifts. Nothing, no form you could guess at or name aside from the merest hint of the serpentine. Movement, a clear indication of bulk.
Is this a dream, I remember having the thought, all fogged and not entirely there. Am I hallucinating?
Am I already dead?
"Girl."
"...." All I can do to tamp down the rising panic at how unfamiliar and wrong having a thick tube forced way, way down my throat feels. A tube that makes talking impossible.
And what would I say to the dark anyway?
"Let me in." Eyes, all I can move. Flicking to look, following the shift and change as the darkness, voice like distant thunder. Low and not without menace. "Power and knowledge, my blade. Freely given." A pause, a shift that could. Could, be something approaching an open hand sweep. Offering.
"If you would let me in."
Must be a dream, too batshit crazy to be real. I'm dosed up on at least a dozen different medications, most likely, slipping into and out of reality but.
I don't want to die.
And, I think that.
I.
Am.
"...." Gaze fixed on it, on the impossible surely imagination conjured shape of it. The darkness. I blink, and, unable to talk, to move, I try to open myself. Because anything has to be better, surely anything rather then the inevitable slide to oblivion.
Inside, picturing barriers, raising or otherwise made gone, doors opening, some form of control panel. Green lights across the board.
Please.
I don't want to die.
"I understand." Something cold, snake like slithering up and around my leg, my arm, on the right side. The darkness, the cold reaching my waist, neck, climbing and wrapping higher slipping inside my tube forced wide mouth. Loose pinching pressure, squeezing my breasts.
Feeling the cold sink down inside at chest and waist, leg and arm. Sensation like swallowing liquid ice and I cough, reaching, suddenly choking.
Grabbing at and yanking the useless obstruction- tube -from my mouth, sitting up.
And a half hour later the nurse, routine rounds. Shocked, audible gasp to discover me standing, barefoot the untied gown hanging off me, two dozen plus metres away from the bed I shouldn't of been able to leave, one hand on the window.
Staring down.
Smiling.
Everything changes.
Six months ago, the day I slipped. Fell, off the roof- don't ask, I wasn't being particularly sensible -and into a bed and a drip and a coma.
All the associated machines, wires and tubes and a steady beeping, keeping me alive, a slow losing battle.
"You are dying. Girl."
Waking, five months ago, not having even been aware I'd fallen. The immediate- to me -past of the roof all blurred, groggy and fogged. Half lost memory, blocked. Nothing beyond a vague sense of slipping, tugging at the edges like a too late warning.
Be careful.
Awake then, soft sheets and hard mattress, and cold, everything unfamiliar, even my own thoughts those first moments.
Who?
Where?
Feel like shit, worse. Pain like a deep throbbing, pulsing timed perfectly to the steady inhuman beeping of the surrounding machines which are no doubt trying to protect me from the worst of it.
Failing.
Darkness, everything cast into shadow the sporadic and dim ward lighting doing nothing, no good. A part of that dark, beside me, shifts. Nothing, no form you could guess at or name aside from the merest hint of the serpentine. Movement, a clear indication of bulk.
Is this a dream, I remember having the thought, all fogged and not entirely there. Am I hallucinating?
Am I already dead?
"Girl."
"...." All I can do to tamp down the rising panic at how unfamiliar and wrong having a thick tube forced way, way down my throat feels. A tube that makes talking impossible.
And what would I say to the dark anyway?
"Let me in." Eyes, all I can move. Flicking to look, following the shift and change as the darkness, voice like distant thunder. Low and not without menace. "Power and knowledge, my blade. Freely given." A pause, a shift that could. Could, be something approaching an open hand sweep. Offering.
"If you would let me in."
Must be a dream, too batshit crazy to be real. I'm dosed up on at least a dozen different medications, most likely, slipping into and out of reality but.
I don't want to die.
And, I think that.
I.
Am.
"...." Gaze fixed on it, on the impossible surely imagination conjured shape of it. The darkness. I blink, and, unable to talk, to move, I try to open myself. Because anything has to be better, surely anything rather then the inevitable slide to oblivion.
Inside, picturing barriers, raising or otherwise made gone, doors opening, some form of control panel. Green lights across the board.
Please.
I don't want to die.
"I understand." Something cold, snake like slithering up and around my leg, my arm, on the right side. The darkness, the cold reaching my waist, neck, climbing and wrapping higher slipping inside my tube forced wide mouth. Loose pinching pressure, squeezing my breasts.
Feeling the cold sink down inside at chest and waist, leg and arm. Sensation like swallowing liquid ice and I cough, reaching, suddenly choking.
Grabbing at and yanking the useless obstruction- tube -from my mouth, sitting up.
And a half hour later the nurse, routine rounds. Shocked, audible gasp to discover me standing, barefoot the untied gown hanging off me, two dozen plus metres away from the bed I shouldn't of been able to leave, one hand on the window.
Staring down.
Smiling.
History.
First time.
It's all Sarah's fault. The slide down into bondage, the groups discovered and rapidly ballooned obsession. Her fault.
Except fault implies blame, implies something wrong or bad, and given we're all happy, given we continue to play.
Willingly.
Fault, yes, but in a good way.
So, well over a year ago now, in the beginning....
....a wet day, fucking awful considering it's the weekend. A school weekend, which means losing one of only two free days stuck indoors.
But at least we're all together: Sarah, Abbey, Charley and me, camped out in Abbey's room, behind a closed door to keep out her younger brother and his own entourage. Younger, but of an age where our own developing bodies- curves -are a source of constant interest.
Bunch of little perverts basically.
We're all in jeans and cropped tee's, a variety of styles that nonetheless confirm to the universal of being fitted. Curves, and at least half of us showing cleavage too. The four of us munching snacks and sipping cans. Talking, alternating turns on Abbey's Xbox although for the past hour Sarah's been drawing.
Looking up stuff on her phone, references, as we've all seen her do.
"Let's see what you're...." Charley, swooping in tone teasing as she snatches Sarah's phone and in the brief distraction I get shunted from second to fifth.
Shit.
Attention back on the race so I miss Charley's no doubt widening eyes, Sarah's embarrassed blush, but I hear both in their tones.
"What the...." Silence. "Fuck?"
"It's. Um, well...."
"She's naked?"
Which statement basically ends any chance of focusing I had. The three of us staring open mouthed at Sarah's phone whilst she remains seated, blushing, eyes moving from us to her current art project.
And on her screen a young lady- twenties, maybe -sits. Chair bound, not naked. But: criminally short pleated tartan skirt worn over legs spread too wide, forced too wide and you can see there's only a tiny pink thong beneath. And above the waist her skintight cropped vest top is black mesh, barely hiding or containing a pair of huge breasts.
Larger then mine, currently edging towards D territory and showing no signs of slowing.
Rubber ball strapped in her mouth, body pinned and spread, pinched by tight looking rope and you'd think she'd be uncomfortable. In pain?
But she's- sort of, around that ball -smiling.
"I wanted to draw a damsel." Sarah's voice gone small, quiet. A half shrug as we all turn to look at her, seeing the proffered art: a busty anime girl, school uniform and ropes lashing her to a pole. "But somehow I kept getting that." Vague waved gesture at her phone, a small laugh. "And it just went deeper and deeper and...."
Words drying up, a shrug.
Sudden crash as two of the boys bounce off the door, and there's just no way they'd come in. Ever. But the noise has us all jumping.
Nervously laughing.
"It looks." Into the silence, voicing the strange fluttering in the pit of my stomach. "Fun."
"I'll tie you up." Sudden blush climbing her cheeks. "Um." Charley, blinking when I jerk around to look, at her. Seeming surprised she'd spoke. Offered. But she shrugs. Nods, so I nod back.
Why not?
So, Sarah gets her phone back, and she draws. Whilst Abbey attempts and fails to rescue my stalled race.
And Charley ties me up.
On the bed, because the floor is too fucking uncomfortable. My words, and besides Abbey's in the gaming chair, and Sarah's in the other: a solid looking wooden thing we bought upstairs. I lay down, on my belly head turned to the side and chest squashed against the semi yielding mattress. Waiting.
"Can I use these?"
"What?" Rerunning the race, glancing briefly at Charley's bundle of woolen scarves followed by a quick nod. "Sure. It." Quick glance at me, small smile skittering across her face. "Did look fun."
"Fun." Sarah, like a quiet echo from across the room.
"Can you," up on the bed and kneeling beside me, I feel Charley's hands grasp my wrists, moving them to cross, "like that. Okay?"
"Sure." Voice gone small, distant. Breath catching that first time as Charley pulls her initial wrapped loops, the knot, tight. Feeling the newness of my wrists being contained.
Not hating it.
Ankles crossed too, looped and wrapped and knotted off. And.
"There?" Puzzled, unsure. Climbing off the bed with a final pat on my leg and I squirm, shifting from belly to side to regard her. The movement odd, strange given my sudden lack of limb freedom. Something borderline humiliating to the bouncing wriggle I perform.
And yet far from upsetting, the knowledge of how silly I must look slightly excites. Which is strange?
Forgotten moments later though as I realise my struggles have shaken loose Charley's amateur knots.
"Oops."
"Oh?" Frowning as I laugh and bending to collect up the now useless wrist scarf. "I mean," loosening the knot, pulling it all free, "probably isn't supposed to come loose huh."
"Do a double knot." Abbey, eyes still on her game. "Because." A quick pause whilst she thinks, whilst I lay back down and re-cross my arms, and ankles. Waiting despite nobody told me too.
"Second knot to seal in the first."
"Right?" Charley, sounding unsure but with a shrug her attention turns to me. Waiting, ready.
And this time when she steps back, when I wriggle and bounce myself around to face both Charley and the others. This time I remain bound.
"So how is it?" Sarah, come over to check and reaching down, tugging the ankle scarf. Which remains tight. "Double knots holding?"
"Seems like it?" Slight question in my voice, I struggle by way of checking. Rolling from side onto my back, body thrusting up and forward, hips and crotch, chest bouncing as I gyrate.
Blushing as I realise all the girls- even Abbey, game forgotten -are watching me.
Humiliation. Embarrassment.
"Can you get out?" Abbey, come over to join the loose but close ring of three now, surrounding me and peering down. No malice in her voice, curiosity. "Is it too tight or...?"
"It's tight." Nodding, stretching and rolling back to my side, chest facing the wall my bonds exposed to the others. Showing them. "But. Well...."
Feels wrong to say so, but.
"It isn't a bad feeling. Um."
"No?"
"Well...." Biting my lip, shrugging. "I mean...."
"Can I try too?" Abbey, turning to face the other two. "Could you both...?"
"Sure." Charley nods, looking to Sarah. "And then afterwards you two could tie us up?"
To which Sarah nods, tentative, nervous but yes.
And the slide begins.
First time.
It's all Sarah's fault. The slide down into bondage, the groups discovered and rapidly ballooned obsession. Her fault.
Except fault implies blame, implies something wrong or bad, and given we're all happy, given we continue to play.
Willingly.
Fault, yes, but in a good way.
So, well over a year ago now, in the beginning....
....a wet day, fucking awful considering it's the weekend. A school weekend, which means losing one of only two free days stuck indoors.
But at least we're all together: Sarah, Abbey, Charley and me, camped out in Abbey's room, behind a closed door to keep out her younger brother and his own entourage. Younger, but of an age where our own developing bodies- curves -are a source of constant interest.
Bunch of little perverts basically.
We're all in jeans and cropped tee's, a variety of styles that nonetheless confirm to the universal of being fitted. Curves, and at least half of us showing cleavage too. The four of us munching snacks and sipping cans. Talking, alternating turns on Abbey's Xbox although for the past hour Sarah's been drawing.
Looking up stuff on her phone, references, as we've all seen her do.
"Let's see what you're...." Charley, swooping in tone teasing as she snatches Sarah's phone and in the brief distraction I get shunted from second to fifth.
Shit.
Attention back on the race so I miss Charley's no doubt widening eyes, Sarah's embarrassed blush, but I hear both in their tones.
"What the...." Silence. "Fuck?"
"It's. Um, well...."
"She's naked?"
Which statement basically ends any chance of focusing I had. The three of us staring open mouthed at Sarah's phone whilst she remains seated, blushing, eyes moving from us to her current art project.
And on her screen a young lady- twenties, maybe -sits. Chair bound, not naked. But: criminally short pleated tartan skirt worn over legs spread too wide, forced too wide and you can see there's only a tiny pink thong beneath. And above the waist her skintight cropped vest top is black mesh, barely hiding or containing a pair of huge breasts.
Larger then mine, currently edging towards D territory and showing no signs of slowing.
Rubber ball strapped in her mouth, body pinned and spread, pinched by tight looking rope and you'd think she'd be uncomfortable. In pain?
But she's- sort of, around that ball -smiling.
"I wanted to draw a damsel." Sarah's voice gone small, quiet. A half shrug as we all turn to look at her, seeing the proffered art: a busty anime girl, school uniform and ropes lashing her to a pole. "But somehow I kept getting that." Vague waved gesture at her phone, a small laugh. "And it just went deeper and deeper and...."
Words drying up, a shrug.
Sudden crash as two of the boys bounce off the door, and there's just no way they'd come in. Ever. But the noise has us all jumping.
Nervously laughing.
"It looks." Into the silence, voicing the strange fluttering in the pit of my stomach. "Fun."
"I'll tie you up." Sudden blush climbing her cheeks. "Um." Charley, blinking when I jerk around to look, at her. Seeming surprised she'd spoke. Offered. But she shrugs. Nods, so I nod back.
Why not?
So, Sarah gets her phone back, and she draws. Whilst Abbey attempts and fails to rescue my stalled race.
And Charley ties me up.
On the bed, because the floor is too fucking uncomfortable. My words, and besides Abbey's in the gaming chair, and Sarah's in the other: a solid looking wooden thing we bought upstairs. I lay down, on my belly head turned to the side and chest squashed against the semi yielding mattress. Waiting.
"Can I use these?"
"What?" Rerunning the race, glancing briefly at Charley's bundle of woolen scarves followed by a quick nod. "Sure. It." Quick glance at me, small smile skittering across her face. "Did look fun."
"Fun." Sarah, like a quiet echo from across the room.
"Can you," up on the bed and kneeling beside me, I feel Charley's hands grasp my wrists, moving them to cross, "like that. Okay?"
"Sure." Voice gone small, distant. Breath catching that first time as Charley pulls her initial wrapped loops, the knot, tight. Feeling the newness of my wrists being contained.
Not hating it.
Ankles crossed too, looped and wrapped and knotted off. And.
"There?" Puzzled, unsure. Climbing off the bed with a final pat on my leg and I squirm, shifting from belly to side to regard her. The movement odd, strange given my sudden lack of limb freedom. Something borderline humiliating to the bouncing wriggle I perform.
And yet far from upsetting, the knowledge of how silly I must look slightly excites. Which is strange?
Forgotten moments later though as I realise my struggles have shaken loose Charley's amateur knots.
"Oops."
"Oh?" Frowning as I laugh and bending to collect up the now useless wrist scarf. "I mean," loosening the knot, pulling it all free, "probably isn't supposed to come loose huh."
"Do a double knot." Abbey, eyes still on her game. "Because." A quick pause whilst she thinks, whilst I lay back down and re-cross my arms, and ankles. Waiting despite nobody told me too.
"Second knot to seal in the first."
"Right?" Charley, sounding unsure but with a shrug her attention turns to me. Waiting, ready.
And this time when she steps back, when I wriggle and bounce myself around to face both Charley and the others. This time I remain bound.
"So how is it?" Sarah, come over to check and reaching down, tugging the ankle scarf. Which remains tight. "Double knots holding?"
"Seems like it?" Slight question in my voice, I struggle by way of checking. Rolling from side onto my back, body thrusting up and forward, hips and crotch, chest bouncing as I gyrate.
Blushing as I realise all the girls- even Abbey, game forgotten -are watching me.
Humiliation. Embarrassment.
"Can you get out?" Abbey, come over to join the loose but close ring of three now, surrounding me and peering down. No malice in her voice, curiosity. "Is it too tight or...?"
"It's tight." Nodding, stretching and rolling back to my side, chest facing the wall my bonds exposed to the others. Showing them. "But. Well...."
Feels wrong to say so, but.
"It isn't a bad feeling. Um."
"No?"
"Well...." Biting my lip, shrugging. "I mean...."
"Can I try too?" Abbey, turning to face the other two. "Could you both...?"
"Sure." Charley nods, looking to Sarah. "And then afterwards you two could tie us up?"
To which Sarah nods, tentative, nervous but yes.
And the slide begins.
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 365
- Joined: 3 years ago
Yeah, I understand why. In both senses (the break, and the coming back). Obviously more to be said there, but I think most of it has already been said at one point or another before, so I shall avoid retreading old ground.RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago
Happy to be so
-
Really liked the first part. Captures the half-awake, hazy, dreamy state quite well, the way things mostly make sense but then fray at the edges as it were.
And the second was a good mix of funny/adorable. Them figuring out the basics, as it were.
Ahh yes, of course we must blame anything but yourself for what is happening/ones own desiresRopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago It's all Sarah's fault. The slide down into bondage, the groups discovered and rapidly ballooned obsession. Her fault.
Makes sense of course, especially given the characters ages. And obviously said half-jokingly in context. But does speak to a wider common aspect to bondage - being able to shift 'blame' for enjoying something that is 'not acceptable to enjoy' onto something or someone external. Not universal by any means of course, but common for what I think are obvious reasons.
Great chapters, hope to see more! Especially about whatever motivations the dark force had for doing what it did (a few obvious ones come to mind).
But of course I assume you would not want to spoil the mystery too soon
Probably- retreating -best avoided, yes.BlissfulMisery wrote: 4 months agoYeah, I understand why. In both senses (the break, and the coming back). Obviously more to be said there, but I think most of it has already been said at one point or another before, so I shall avoid retreading old ground.RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago
Happy to be so
Onwards and so forth, upwards with a smile.
You assume right, of course. Things are more fun if teased and revealed slowly, answers will come.BlissfulMisery wrote: 4 months ago
But of course I assume you would not want to spoil the mystery too soon
Glad you enjoyed, hadn't thought to the meanings regarding Jane 'blaming' Sarah, deflection. Funny though when considered. But overall as stated they're all happy to play, happy to explore so I guess it no longer matters who started it
-------
Next chapter below, I try to keep non TUGs chapters to a bare minimum when I write, do in fact discard some quite good (in my opinion) story ideas due to a lack of TUGs within.
But, sometimes necessary in order to advance the story, so, forgive me
Last edited by RopeBunny 4 months ago, edited 1 time in total.
002.
"Did you even study?"
"Some."
"Which means none."
"They've been testing me." Sarah, Charley and me stepping apart, making room and she looks glum. "My parents," puffing out a breath, "making sure."
Science, and we four don't have every lesson together, sometimes two sometimes three of us, as here. The only one we all share a slot for being English Literature. Shakespeare.
'Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come'
And so on. Today we've got a test, not an exam, nothing that'll count towards final grades. Just a test, a chance to prove we have been listening, that we- ha -care. Something that required study, actual effort which odds are almost nobody actually expended.
Sarah isn't the only girl, or boy wearing a scowl, wishing or hoping for a fire drill.
Bishops Walk Comprehensive, sited close to an old church, built apparently on bought up church land though the school isn't religious, as some are. Relatively new and made up of several buildings, the sprawl of it joined together by roofed yet open at the side walkways, and it's nice. Pleasant, to break the schoolday monotony up with the occasional blast of fresh air.
Our uniform runs to white shirts, short or long sleeved and the four of us only ever wear short. Black skirts for the girls, a tight narrow style fit the waist elasticated, the cut almost too short for school, you'd think, finishing quite high above the knee. Trousers for the boys, and the tie, blue like a summer sky bisected with diagonal yellow stripes along the length, running high right to low left all the way down.
At fifteen, now in the upper years, the end coming into sight we're allowed to wear make-up. Minimal, pastel shades of eyeshadow, neutral lipsticks. Better then nothing.
The bell rings and we all file in, a long silent line devoid of humour or emotion. Like walking to the gallows.
And there's no teacher? The room empty, an absence of Mr Mills.
We all sit down anyway, mostly in the same spots we've been occupying all school year, the seating not being set in stone yet the same friends and groups tend to stick together. Books out in some cases, a last ditch effort to pin down that formula or periodic table shorthand. Murmured conversation across the room, most of us looking at the door. The clock mounted high above and behind the vacant desk.
Minutes ticking by. Hope rising.
If he arrives beyond a certain point there won't be time left for the te-
Door banging open and a stranger backing into the room, arms full of stacked papers and a small box.
Fuck.
Turning and walking down the side, across the front towards and stopping at the desk. Papers and box dropped. Not placed down with care, literally, simply spreading her arms, letting everything fall with a thump.
The complete unprofessional care of it eliciting several laughs.
Looking out at us all, scanning the room whilst muted conversation slowly dries up. Young for a teacher, late twenties. Standing tall in heeled black boots that lace to the knees, pale legs above disappearing into a white dress covered in brightly coloured flowers, low scooped neck showing ample cleavage her size twelve frame accentuated by a black leather waist cincher, belted tight, pushing those D cups up and out. Curves made obvious by that forced slim waist.
Running a hand through dyed blue hair grown long and styled shaggy, messy, biting her lip.
Nodding and turning to the whiteboard.
"Class," writing as she speaks, "my name is Emil-." Stopping, words both vocal and written. Half a name and she huffs, shaking her head and scrubbing the board with the side of a balled fist.
"Last name," muttered, "you're a fucking teacher don't forget."
Which, the expletive drawing laughter.
"Class," writing again atop her freshly made smudge, "my name is Miss Elderflower." A single nod, and she turns. "Now, unfortunately you've all got a test to complete. So."
Waiting out the combined groans, the useless muttered protests, Miss Elderflower opens up the small box, cardboard, and exactly like a shoebox right up to the word 'Sketchers' written across the lid. And becoming fascinated I watch as out the box she produces incense. A half dozen sticks, which once lit are balanced vertically inside a small narrow necked bottle made of black glass.
Like something a witch would keep Mermaids Tears or some other rare nonsense ingredient in.
The smoke, wafting gently up and around the room smells woody, some vague spice aroma with an undertone of ash, feels nasty on the tongue and I'm fairly sure she isn't supposed to be burning anything in here. Despite it being a Science classroom.
Dropping the lighter, a silver petrol model, back into the box she withdraws a brown cloth pouch, about the size of a small bag of flour, purple leather cord wrapped and tied to pinch the neck. Looking up, appearing to squint at us all Miss Elderflower proceeds to pour out a quantity of yellow black sand into one cupped hand, which without warning she tosses into the air, up and out above our heads.
Lips moving as she does, forming words that look far too long.
Shouts of surprise, about half the class ether ducking or flinching, several more curses, a couple of which are loud enough to- ordinarily -earn detention. I flinch, seeing Charley duck in my corner vision, and then it's raining sand, a noisy hissing rush, striking the wooden desk in front, floor behind and when I look.
Everyone else's desk amd table space, the whole rest of the room save an almost perfect black and yellow circle around me. Untouched?
Looking up I catch Miss Elderflower staring at me, and as our eyes meet she flinches, briefly, blinking.
"Right. Class." Looking down, breaking the for some reason intense feeling contact and when I do likewise.
Where'd the fucking sand go?
Magic, sand? But surely not from....
"Register." Which she takes, eyes flicking from page to room, lingering again on me when I raise a quick hand, confirming my attendance.
Papers, the ever cursed test handed out as she walks a brisk lap of the room, slapping sheets down onto desks.
Missing me out.
"And begin." Returning to the front and sitting down, not looking up. "In silence, class. Begin."
Where's mine? Staring at the empty space in front as though if I focus real hard, blink enough times the test will appear.
Magic.
Beside and all around me the occasional below whispered murmur. Beside me Sarah, bent over tongue poking out in concentration, and beside her Charley, glancing around pen tapped against lips and I catch her eye.
Gesture down at my absence of test and she looks, back to me. Frowns. Shrugs.
Bends forwards, brushing straight black hair, cut shorter at the front but still it intrudes. Charley brushing it back off her face, getting to work.
Turning my attention to the front, Miss Elderflower, sat down and bent forward herself. Muttering, alternating tapping and fiddling with her phone, and scribbling something down on some papers. Too focused to see or feel by sixth sense my intense stare.
Look up and notice me damn it.
Minutes ticking by, and I will not. Not. Resit this stupid test by myself.
My exaggerated, overly loud cough has half the class looking up, including Sarah, who looks at my lack of test, frowns, before getting back to her own.
Thankfully Miss Elderflower does look up, eyes catching on my raised hand, tracking down to my empty desk as I point and gesture. Following which she blinks, returning attention to her own desk, and whatever work she's doing.
What the fuck?
My second cough draws less attention despite being no less loud, Miss Elderflower not even glancing up. So, with a huff I stand, unsure what else I can do? Fairly sure test conditions require you to remain seated but I'm out of options.
"Miss?"
"You shouldn't be out of your se-" Glancing up and the word dries up half formed, as she swallows, eyes and attention dropping back to the papers in front of her, scribbling with something approaching furious speed. Doing her best to- still -ignore me, and when I finally look down myself.
She's filling in a test sheet?
"Miss?" Voice low and behind me the murmurs, a low burble of conversation beginning to build.
"Miss."
"Here." Thrusting the papers at me. "Back to your seat, Miss Reaver. The rest of you." Voice rising towards that adult authority. "No talking, you've got ten minutes left so get on with it."
And back at my seat I find, what the actual fuck? The entire test filled out, including my name written at the top. Not my handwriting, but who's going to know amongst the no doubt messy in places offerings from others here.
I spend the final minutes flicking slowly through the pages, a dream like feeling washing through me, repeatedly glancing at the desk, at Miss Elderflower, very pointedly not looking at me, looking all around the room and repeatedly managing to skip across or miss the spot I'm sat in.
"Okay." With five minutes of class left, clapping her hands. "That's time, early lunch for you all. Papers on my desk and off you all go. Mayhem and hijinks await no doubt."
"It isn't lunch next, Miss." One of the girls, hand tentatively raised. "It's English."
"Well." A shrug, face saying she doesn't much care. "Off you all go anyway."
"Miss Reaver." Name acting like concrete poured into my bones, I stop midway into shrugging on my hoodie, looking at Miss Elderflower, who licks her lips. Nods. "Please remain behind, for a moment thank you."
"So, much, trouble." Charley, grinning and playfully swatting me with her- completed by her -test as she passes.
Everybody leaving, noise and pushing and shoving, shouting, leaving the space, the room feeling larger for their absence, just her and me, as I approach the front. The desk, wondering how best to ask the obvious question.
Why?
Only, opening my mouth and Miss Elderflower, already standing turns, taking a step closer before dropping down to kneel, facing me.
Sort of. Kind of, at my feet.
"Livyatan." Head bowed and hands clasped behind her back. The word, the, name. My, name. Her accent shifting perfectly, picking up the foreign ness of it and I can't stop the shiver chasing quickly down spine and arms.
I've never heard it spoken, directed at me like an acknowledgement of the hidden truth. My unknown- by everyone, I assumed -guest.
"The Once and Forever. Lord of the Never Sunset, Commander of the Forgotten Legion. Keeper of the blade Western Sorrow in the Rain. Friend to Sharks."
Pausing, head remaining lowered, so close I could reach out and touch her, and looking down, beyond, the deep trench of her cleavage, breasts jutting out the whole thing like some sort of invitation.
"I...." Lost, for words. Taken completely by surprise, caught off guard whilst deep within the trapped darkness smiles. Pleased.
Right.
"Why do you seek hi-" Miss Elderflower briefly glancing up as my words crunch to a forced stop, as I loudly tut. But when I look down she hurriedly resumes intensely studying the floor.
"Why do you seek me?"
"Forgive me. Lord." Lord? Girl could get used- too used, careful -to this. "I come only to pay respect, I seek no boon."
What the fuck is a boon?
"Well then." Feeling stupid, forcing the smile off my face I reach out, resting a hand atop Miss Elderflower's head. "Go in peace...."
"Emily."
"Emily." I nod, removing my hand and yet she, Emily doesn't rise. Instead, raising her head and meeting my eyes, this time without flinching. Licking her lips and nodding down.
At her cleavage?
"Lord." Actually pushing, thrusting her chest out at me. "Should you ever require my services. Please."
Something, looking down and trying not to become lost I catch sight of something, so, feeling like a thief about to be caught, shouted at. Because she's a grown up, a teacher no less.
Reaching down, in, feeling the soft warm swell of her breasts, plucking free the small rectangular card nestled deep within the cleavage.
White, the name 'Emily' scribbled across one side, below which a phone number and email.
And with Emily watching, feeling silly but on some level feeling as though it's right, too, loosening my school tie and opening the top of my white shirt I slip the card inside my pale pink bra, pinning it between my E cup and the lace.
After which, without actually running, I run. Before Emily does or asks for something really weird.
Lord?
I, guess I am.
"Did you even study?"
"Some."
"Which means none."
"They've been testing me." Sarah, Charley and me stepping apart, making room and she looks glum. "My parents," puffing out a breath, "making sure."
Science, and we four don't have every lesson together, sometimes two sometimes three of us, as here. The only one we all share a slot for being English Literature. Shakespeare.
'Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come'
And so on. Today we've got a test, not an exam, nothing that'll count towards final grades. Just a test, a chance to prove we have been listening, that we- ha -care. Something that required study, actual effort which odds are almost nobody actually expended.
Sarah isn't the only girl, or boy wearing a scowl, wishing or hoping for a fire drill.
Bishops Walk Comprehensive, sited close to an old church, built apparently on bought up church land though the school isn't religious, as some are. Relatively new and made up of several buildings, the sprawl of it joined together by roofed yet open at the side walkways, and it's nice. Pleasant, to break the schoolday monotony up with the occasional blast of fresh air.
Our uniform runs to white shirts, short or long sleeved and the four of us only ever wear short. Black skirts for the girls, a tight narrow style fit the waist elasticated, the cut almost too short for school, you'd think, finishing quite high above the knee. Trousers for the boys, and the tie, blue like a summer sky bisected with diagonal yellow stripes along the length, running high right to low left all the way down.
At fifteen, now in the upper years, the end coming into sight we're allowed to wear make-up. Minimal, pastel shades of eyeshadow, neutral lipsticks. Better then nothing.
The bell rings and we all file in, a long silent line devoid of humour or emotion. Like walking to the gallows.
And there's no teacher? The room empty, an absence of Mr Mills.
We all sit down anyway, mostly in the same spots we've been occupying all school year, the seating not being set in stone yet the same friends and groups tend to stick together. Books out in some cases, a last ditch effort to pin down that formula or periodic table shorthand. Murmured conversation across the room, most of us looking at the door. The clock mounted high above and behind the vacant desk.
Minutes ticking by. Hope rising.
If he arrives beyond a certain point there won't be time left for the te-
Door banging open and a stranger backing into the room, arms full of stacked papers and a small box.
Fuck.
Turning and walking down the side, across the front towards and stopping at the desk. Papers and box dropped. Not placed down with care, literally, simply spreading her arms, letting everything fall with a thump.
The complete unprofessional care of it eliciting several laughs.
Looking out at us all, scanning the room whilst muted conversation slowly dries up. Young for a teacher, late twenties. Standing tall in heeled black boots that lace to the knees, pale legs above disappearing into a white dress covered in brightly coloured flowers, low scooped neck showing ample cleavage her size twelve frame accentuated by a black leather waist cincher, belted tight, pushing those D cups up and out. Curves made obvious by that forced slim waist.
Running a hand through dyed blue hair grown long and styled shaggy, messy, biting her lip.
Nodding and turning to the whiteboard.
"Class," writing as she speaks, "my name is Emil-." Stopping, words both vocal and written. Half a name and she huffs, shaking her head and scrubbing the board with the side of a balled fist.
"Last name," muttered, "you're a fucking teacher don't forget."
Which, the expletive drawing laughter.
"Class," writing again atop her freshly made smudge, "my name is Miss Elderflower." A single nod, and she turns. "Now, unfortunately you've all got a test to complete. So."
Waiting out the combined groans, the useless muttered protests, Miss Elderflower opens up the small box, cardboard, and exactly like a shoebox right up to the word 'Sketchers' written across the lid. And becoming fascinated I watch as out the box she produces incense. A half dozen sticks, which once lit are balanced vertically inside a small narrow necked bottle made of black glass.
Like something a witch would keep Mermaids Tears or some other rare nonsense ingredient in.
The smoke, wafting gently up and around the room smells woody, some vague spice aroma with an undertone of ash, feels nasty on the tongue and I'm fairly sure she isn't supposed to be burning anything in here. Despite it being a Science classroom.
Dropping the lighter, a silver petrol model, back into the box she withdraws a brown cloth pouch, about the size of a small bag of flour, purple leather cord wrapped and tied to pinch the neck. Looking up, appearing to squint at us all Miss Elderflower proceeds to pour out a quantity of yellow black sand into one cupped hand, which without warning she tosses into the air, up and out above our heads.
Lips moving as she does, forming words that look far too long.
Shouts of surprise, about half the class ether ducking or flinching, several more curses, a couple of which are loud enough to- ordinarily -earn detention. I flinch, seeing Charley duck in my corner vision, and then it's raining sand, a noisy hissing rush, striking the wooden desk in front, floor behind and when I look.
Everyone else's desk amd table space, the whole rest of the room save an almost perfect black and yellow circle around me. Untouched?
Looking up I catch Miss Elderflower staring at me, and as our eyes meet she flinches, briefly, blinking.
"Right. Class." Looking down, breaking the for some reason intense feeling contact and when I do likewise.
Where'd the fucking sand go?
Magic, sand? But surely not from....
"Register." Which she takes, eyes flicking from page to room, lingering again on me when I raise a quick hand, confirming my attendance.
Papers, the ever cursed test handed out as she walks a brisk lap of the room, slapping sheets down onto desks.
Missing me out.
"And begin." Returning to the front and sitting down, not looking up. "In silence, class. Begin."
Where's mine? Staring at the empty space in front as though if I focus real hard, blink enough times the test will appear.
Magic.
Beside and all around me the occasional below whispered murmur. Beside me Sarah, bent over tongue poking out in concentration, and beside her Charley, glancing around pen tapped against lips and I catch her eye.
Gesture down at my absence of test and she looks, back to me. Frowns. Shrugs.
Bends forwards, brushing straight black hair, cut shorter at the front but still it intrudes. Charley brushing it back off her face, getting to work.
Turning my attention to the front, Miss Elderflower, sat down and bent forward herself. Muttering, alternating tapping and fiddling with her phone, and scribbling something down on some papers. Too focused to see or feel by sixth sense my intense stare.
Look up and notice me damn it.
Minutes ticking by, and I will not. Not. Resit this stupid test by myself.
My exaggerated, overly loud cough has half the class looking up, including Sarah, who looks at my lack of test, frowns, before getting back to her own.
Thankfully Miss Elderflower does look up, eyes catching on my raised hand, tracking down to my empty desk as I point and gesture. Following which she blinks, returning attention to her own desk, and whatever work she's doing.
What the fuck?
My second cough draws less attention despite being no less loud, Miss Elderflower not even glancing up. So, with a huff I stand, unsure what else I can do? Fairly sure test conditions require you to remain seated but I'm out of options.
"Miss?"
"You shouldn't be out of your se-" Glancing up and the word dries up half formed, as she swallows, eyes and attention dropping back to the papers in front of her, scribbling with something approaching furious speed. Doing her best to- still -ignore me, and when I finally look down myself.
She's filling in a test sheet?
"Miss?" Voice low and behind me the murmurs, a low burble of conversation beginning to build.
"Miss."
"Here." Thrusting the papers at me. "Back to your seat, Miss Reaver. The rest of you." Voice rising towards that adult authority. "No talking, you've got ten minutes left so get on with it."
And back at my seat I find, what the actual fuck? The entire test filled out, including my name written at the top. Not my handwriting, but who's going to know amongst the no doubt messy in places offerings from others here.
I spend the final minutes flicking slowly through the pages, a dream like feeling washing through me, repeatedly glancing at the desk, at Miss Elderflower, very pointedly not looking at me, looking all around the room and repeatedly managing to skip across or miss the spot I'm sat in.
"Okay." With five minutes of class left, clapping her hands. "That's time, early lunch for you all. Papers on my desk and off you all go. Mayhem and hijinks await no doubt."
"It isn't lunch next, Miss." One of the girls, hand tentatively raised. "It's English."
"Well." A shrug, face saying she doesn't much care. "Off you all go anyway."
"Miss Reaver." Name acting like concrete poured into my bones, I stop midway into shrugging on my hoodie, looking at Miss Elderflower, who licks her lips. Nods. "Please remain behind, for a moment thank you."
"So, much, trouble." Charley, grinning and playfully swatting me with her- completed by her -test as she passes.
Everybody leaving, noise and pushing and shoving, shouting, leaving the space, the room feeling larger for their absence, just her and me, as I approach the front. The desk, wondering how best to ask the obvious question.
Why?
Only, opening my mouth and Miss Elderflower, already standing turns, taking a step closer before dropping down to kneel, facing me.
Sort of. Kind of, at my feet.
"Livyatan." Head bowed and hands clasped behind her back. The word, the, name. My, name. Her accent shifting perfectly, picking up the foreign ness of it and I can't stop the shiver chasing quickly down spine and arms.
I've never heard it spoken, directed at me like an acknowledgement of the hidden truth. My unknown- by everyone, I assumed -guest.
"The Once and Forever. Lord of the Never Sunset, Commander of the Forgotten Legion. Keeper of the blade Western Sorrow in the Rain. Friend to Sharks."
Pausing, head remaining lowered, so close I could reach out and touch her, and looking down, beyond, the deep trench of her cleavage, breasts jutting out the whole thing like some sort of invitation.
"I...." Lost, for words. Taken completely by surprise, caught off guard whilst deep within the trapped darkness smiles. Pleased.
Right.
"Why do you seek hi-" Miss Elderflower briefly glancing up as my words crunch to a forced stop, as I loudly tut. But when I look down she hurriedly resumes intensely studying the floor.
"Why do you seek me?"
"Forgive me. Lord." Lord? Girl could get used- too used, careful -to this. "I come only to pay respect, I seek no boon."
What the fuck is a boon?
"Well then." Feeling stupid, forcing the smile off my face I reach out, resting a hand atop Miss Elderflower's head. "Go in peace...."
"Emily."
"Emily." I nod, removing my hand and yet she, Emily doesn't rise. Instead, raising her head and meeting my eyes, this time without flinching. Licking her lips and nodding down.
At her cleavage?
"Lord." Actually pushing, thrusting her chest out at me. "Should you ever require my services. Please."
Something, looking down and trying not to become lost I catch sight of something, so, feeling like a thief about to be caught, shouted at. Because she's a grown up, a teacher no less.
Reaching down, in, feeling the soft warm swell of her breasts, plucking free the small rectangular card nestled deep within the cleavage.
White, the name 'Emily' scribbled across one side, below which a phone number and email.
And with Emily watching, feeling silly but on some level feeling as though it's right, too, loosening my school tie and opening the top of my white shirt I slip the card inside my pale pink bra, pinning it between my E cup and the lace.
After which, without actually running, I run. Before Emily does or asks for something really weird.
Lord?
I, guess I am.
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 365
- Joined: 3 years ago
*Insert the usual generic response about how it is fine/is sometimes needed for the story to not be too ridiculous*RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago Next chapter below, I try to keep non TUGs chapters to a bare minimum when I write, do in fact discard some quite good (in my opinion) story ideas due to a lack of TUGs within.
But, sometimes necessary in order to advance the story, so, forgive me
-
RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago Minutes ticking by. Hope rising.
If he arrives beyond a certain point there won't be time left for the te-
Door banging open and a stranger backing into the room, arms full of stacked papers and a small box.
Fuck.
Not just this part, but the whole section definitely brings back memories.
Suppose even cultists/lackeys/worshipers need business cardsRopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago White, the name 'Emily' scribbled across one side, below which a phone number and email.
An amusing juxtaposition of the mundane with the magical.And the mystery begins to unravel - but as per usual, answers simply lead to more questions.
Necessary evil these non TUG chapters, essential at times to move the story along, and I do enjoy writing them, have always enjoyed the back and forth of dialogue.
Setting the scene.
But I enjoy, love writing the TUGs too, keeps me coming back as opposed finding a place to write and post non bondage stories on.
Mostly, if writing a non TUG (chapter) I'll try to pair and post it alongside one with some action. Mostly.
Anyway, thanks for commenting think you'll find a little more detail below, but not everything. Not yet.
Setting the scene.
But I enjoy, love writing the TUGs too, keeps me coming back as opposed finding a place to write and post non bondage stories on.
Mostly, if writing a non TUG (chapter) I'll try to pair and post it alongside one with some action. Mostly.
Anyway, thanks for commenting
think you'll find a little more detail below, but not everything. Not yet.Interlude.
Talking to myself.
"Are you there?"
"Always." The voice, from within, the darkness: Livyatan, from the pit of me the voice forever sounding like an approaching storm. Distant thunder, menace. The occasional serpentine movement, felt within, coiling or loosening.
Restless.
Walking home, and for some reason I hadn't wanted to have this conversation under a roof.
So.
"You could've warned me."
"Yes." Monotone, neutral, despite the underlying depth promising war Livyatan rarely betrays any real emotion. "And you could-"
"-No." Vigorously shaking my head. "I." Hands waving, gesturing, splitting the air as though trying to fight the prospect and it's a five month old argument around which Livyatan never insists. Can't insist, but the fact of my apparent destiny remains and right now I. "Can't."
"One day you may have to. There are others."
Still light, a lack of wind but I shiver, fighting down the urge to turn around.
"Then why did you?" Do it. Pick me and doom me. Bitterness, and anger despite the fact I'm saved. That night at the hospital, the act of healing me entwined us. A life for a life because even though when I die Livyatan continues for now we share. And I'm in charge. "I." Emotions crumbling, gusting out leaving me hollow. Picturing that vast field, knowing I. "Can't."
"Looking at you," close to home by the time Livyatan speaks, I'd been kicking leaves, dawdling. Still in a funk.
"I saw the path untrodden."
"But why me?" Wanting more. Taking the offered shelter of a bus stop, leaning back into a corner, alone in the small covered space. Except I'm not. "It's just so...." Voice trailing off, making a huge circle with both hands, the enormity of it all.
"I have lived long. I have killed. And taken. I have ruled. And I thought, looking at you, small, broken. I thought: perhaps I can fix this, perhaps she will teach me another way."
"So." Finding a smile, feeling it stick. Grow. It isn't often you're paid compliments by a Dark God. "An adventure?"
"Yes."
"Well." Kicking off, a bounce in my step. Lighter, better. "Okay."
Talking to myself.
"Are you there?"
"Always." The voice, from within, the darkness: Livyatan, from the pit of me the voice forever sounding like an approaching storm. Distant thunder, menace. The occasional serpentine movement, felt within, coiling or loosening.
Restless.
Walking home, and for some reason I hadn't wanted to have this conversation under a roof.
So.
"You could've warned me."
"Yes." Monotone, neutral, despite the underlying depth promising war Livyatan rarely betrays any real emotion. "And you could-"
"-No." Vigorously shaking my head. "I." Hands waving, gesturing, splitting the air as though trying to fight the prospect and it's a five month old argument around which Livyatan never insists. Can't insist, but the fact of my apparent destiny remains and right now I. "Can't."
"One day you may have to. There are others."
Still light, a lack of wind but I shiver, fighting down the urge to turn around.
"Then why did you?" Do it. Pick me and doom me. Bitterness, and anger despite the fact I'm saved. That night at the hospital, the act of healing me entwined us. A life for a life because even though when I die Livyatan continues for now we share. And I'm in charge. "I." Emotions crumbling, gusting out leaving me hollow. Picturing that vast field, knowing I. "Can't."
"Looking at you," close to home by the time Livyatan speaks, I'd been kicking leaves, dawdling. Still in a funk.
"I saw the path untrodden."
"But why me?" Wanting more. Taking the offered shelter of a bus stop, leaning back into a corner, alone in the small covered space. Except I'm not. "It's just so...." Voice trailing off, making a huge circle with both hands, the enormity of it all.
"I have lived long. I have killed. And taken. I have ruled. And I thought, looking at you, small, broken. I thought: perhaps I can fix this, perhaps she will teach me another way."
"So." Finding a smile, feeling it stick. Grow. It isn't often you're paid compliments by a Dark God. "An adventure?"
"Yes."
"Well." Kicking off, a bounce in my step. Lighter, better. "Okay."
003.
Everyone else is busy: Charley has a golf tournament, a whole weekend thing far enough away to warrant a hotel, and Sarah's still grounded though thankfully that ends Monday. Abbey isn't answering her phone, not WhatsApp nor messenger, not even when I ring.
And I don't have any other friends, nor does the- imaginary -boyfriend exist, for obvious reasons. But I don't want to be indoors, despite the clouds and wind outside, the on and off drizzling rain.
So, dressed in pale blue leggings and white Adidas with pink detailing, black cropped 'Hatsune Miko' tee worn beneath a black cropped pullover hoodie. Belly exposed but fuck the cold.
I head out, not bothering to mention the fact, where I'm going or when I'll be home. Nobody cares. Heading in the vague direction of Abbey's and didn't people used to do this? I suppose, in the time before mobile technology you had to physically walk to your friend to see if she was home. Available.
And I could find a hole to fall through, I could go and check, because it has been awhile. Overdue really, but. Not today.
I can't face it today.
Halfway around the Pond, taking the scenic route, no rush to arrive and find Abbey likely not there, wandering, not paying attention when I glance up and see them: Abbey's younger brother, Ethan and another boy, Daniel, I think? Twelve to my fifteen, all in jeans and tee's, puffer jackets unzipped and flapping in the wind. Carrying different styles of Nerf gun, rifles and pistols, as they jog from cover to apparent cover. Tree to bush to signpost.
Playing something and I grin. Too old, getting that way, for toys and yet still young enough for an imagination. For games. Curious, bored anyway and I had wanted something to do, I change angles and break into a jog. Coming from behind to intercept.
We all call it the Pond, I don't remember the official name. A local hangout spot, popular with families in better, warmer weather, the Pond is actually three ponds, joined by a narrow stream which runs a zigzag course between and eventually out under the boundary fence. Couple of small stone waterfalls along the way, the smooth just under the water surface of both slippery. Crossing either is a local right of passage, a game we've all played time and again.
Trees and hills, the path switching from gravelled to mud and back as it loops and divides around from a small car park and back.
"'S up?" Half whispered from less then a foot away, the two of them too focused on an enemy real or pretend? Not hearing me until I'm right there. I grin as they jump, as Ethan swears, dodging backwards moments later as Daniel swings round, fast, the gun barrel of his oversized bright yellow rifle almost catching my arm.
"Fuuuuck."
"Language." I tease, grinning and quite pleased at the reaction my sneaking caused. "Whatcha doing boys?"
"Playing. Well...." Ethan, the boys exchanging glances, shrugs and is it that hard to describe whatever game this is?
"Are you attacking someone?"
"Sort of." Seesaw motion of his hand, whilst Daniel- is it, I'll just assume so until I'm corrected -gestures. Across the pond where the main treeline begins. "It's, well." Another seesaw. "A rescue thing."
"Game."
"Right." Still crouched behind the bush, I stare off towards the small woodland that runs off towards and through the out of sight boundary fence. "So, there's a second group." I point. "Over there. And they've got a. Um, thing, that you have to get back?"
"Todd and Steve." Thumbs up by way of added confirmation. "Basically."
And belatedly, noticing Daniel shift, Ethan look away somewhat hurriedly as I glance at him. Belatedly I realise how close I'm- still -standing to them. These young boys no doubt full of hormones and here's me, curves and E cups, the hoodie slightly baggy but still showing the shape of them. My overall girlness.
Right there, up close.
I giggle into the awkwardness of them both, which likely doesn't help at all.
"Can I have a gun?"
"Huh?"
"I could," I mime shooting, "help?"
"You want to play?" Daniel's mouth gone wide, Ethan's tone disbelief to match. Staring at my chest. "With us?"
"Sure." Smiling, I nod. "Honestly, I'm bored. And," nudging Ethan somewhat playfully, "your sister isn't responding so."
Which, as I shrug he smiles. Smirks, and Daniel laughs as though at a joke?
"What can I do to help?"
"Well...." Small laugh, nervous and they exchange a look.
"Can you give us a moment, to talk?"
"Sure." An easy shrug, not particularly desperate to continue onwards to Abbey. Not now, I stand, stretching and taking a half dozen steps back. Finding the bench so recently jogged passed, sitting down on the backrest feet on the wooden planked seat. Watching the boys talk and gesture.
Taking out a phone, tapping. Talking to someone.
I wait.
"You want to help?"
"I want to play," still sat leaning forward, elbows on knees hands clasped between spread legs, "yes."
"Well." Exchanging a look, small still apparently nervous smiles.
"Please." Asking into the, feels loaded silence. "I don't have to get a gun. I guess." Though it looks fun. "Just, what can I do, to help?"
"Well." Ethan, again, and into the pause I'm about to speak, to offer myself up. Again.
Ha, hindsight.
When he takes a breath and.
"Be our prisoner."
"What?" Laughing, the unexpectedness of it. "You want...?"
"To capture you." Talking fast, gaze falling on then off me. "As a prisoner, who we caught wandering around. Um, somewhere." Casting an arm out towards the great open expanse of the Pond and surrounds. A whole imaginary world within which I was, apparently, wandering like some kind of invitation to be taken and?
"Okay." Okay? What? "So, I'm a prisoner." An easy shrug.
Not thinking, stupid. Not thinking beyond the logic of them having guns, so of course there exists a facet to all this where they could take, capture a prisoner. And why not me?
"I guess that means I surrender?" Standing up, pushing off forwards and the boys hop and skitter backwards, making room but still forming a closed half circle around me, the bench at my back preventing escape. I raise both hands, smile.
"So what happens now?"
Who would've guessed they had rope, and more.
"Prisoners tend to be gagged."
"Well," eyeballing the roll of thick silver tape Daniel has just magicked from a backpack, handing it off to Ethan leaving his hands free to begin pulling dirty off white rope out next, "yes?"
In my experience, definitely, but despite having agreed to join the game in this specific capacity: prisoner, the appearance of actual binding supplies has wrong footed me. Unexpected, and I've never been bound by a boy. Or, boys I suppose. Plus I've never been bound outside, in public.
It's a thing, scenario we four girls have joked about but have never been brave enough to attempt. Something we want to do.
Something I want to do.
These thoughts: boys, public, being bound. I can feel a warm flush spreading through me, excited nerves at what might develop here. What's their plan for me?
What's the endgame?
Questions I should ask, limits I should possibly set. Rules, before I let them gag me, shutting off the ability to protest or.
Removing myself from decisions regarding my own immediate future.
"You don't have to. If," Ethan, slight frown possibly mistaking the shiver that just ran visibly through me, "well."
"I know." Finding a smile for them. Willing. "But. Yes. I want to play this game, because I'm really fucking bored."
Laughing, and with a mixture of smiles and laughter the boys relax too. Tension draining out of them, bodies loosening, nerves seeming less.
"So." A shrug, trying to tamp down on the tingles, a spreading numbness bought on by anticipation. "If playing means I'm the bound and gagged prisoner, then. Carry on." Putting my hands back up, surrendering. "Do your worst, but." A nerve filled giggle escapes. "Make sure I'm home before dark. Please."
Nerf guns already resting on the- thank fuck off the main path -bench, and shouldn't one of them be covering. Checking angles and protecting us from the other group? Guess not. Together they make short work of me, guiding limbs and holding me still. Not once asking permission, which I already gave despite not knowing just how far things might go.
Clearly they've been watching stuff, sneaking under the parental safe search blocks at home, because fuck me the bondage is good. Tight.
A pair of socks, woolen boys things thicker then anything I've worn, white with a red and blue stripe across the top and red patch marking the toes. Balled up and stuffed in my mouth by Daniel, the boys grinning as the sudden unexpected taste- roughness, slight odour -makes my eyes bulge.
Quickly wrapping that thick tape around my head, mouth totally covered in seconds, running the strip high and low and pressing it down as they work. No chance of spitting the socks out, no chance of talking in anything beyond muffled moans and grunts. Blonde curls plastered to my face, messy. Breathing fast in slight panic.
But loving it.
Wrists held immobile, crossed behind me whilst rope is applied, wrapped and yanked to close the loop. Pinch against bare skin and I squirm but am not released nor is the rope slackened.
I agreed after all, too late now.
The same rope that's pinning my wrists, a stupidly long length, is now wrapped around my chest, above the breasts and I gasp, involuntarily moaning as with a tug, yanking, the tightening looped rope somehow forces my bound wrists up. From crossed and hands pointed down at the waist to crossed and hands flailing upwards, pinned at the small of my back as more loops are made, above and below my breasts. Pinching and squeezing through the layers of cropped hoodie and tee.
The boys eyes going wide as they see what they've done, my own blinking, lazily, thoughts going thick like soup, fogged and all I'm really able to focus on is the pinching rope, the awful tasting mouth filling gag.
How absolutely amazing the whole thing feels. Is.
As a final humiliation I'm collared. Clearly prepared, or maybe they always carry this shit around? Out the backpack comes a brown leather dog collar and attached same colour lead. Which they put on me, causing a blush as the buckle is yanked tight but not to the point of strangling, breath catching as Ethan takes up the looped end of the lead.
Giving a small tug, smile on his face as my neck is jerked forward. As, helpless to fight I'm forced to fall into step. Being led away, bound and gagged, Daniel flanking at one side.
Breasts squeezed and seemingly offered up by the chest ropes under and over, and even with the slight baggy cut of the hoodie the shape of them is obvious now. Shift and slight bounce as I walk.
"Okay?"
"Dddhhhhfffff." Nodding, can't think straight, still. Body hot, arms and exposed belly a sea of tingles. "Ggmmmnn ssrrppfff."
"Well," Ethan offers me a grin, "you did agree. So." Giving the lead another playful tug. "Too late to back out now." Winking. "Prisoner."
"Hhhggggffffmmmnnnmmm." Slow blinking, the word. Prisoner. Doing nothing to help lift my fogged funk. I've sunk far to deeply into the thrill of it all to care.
We walk. Staying on the path and I should worry about being seen, there's still the occasional dog walker even in bad weather.
Which as though summoned by thought, the drizzle appears, the world becoming soft and hazy, light fog descending. Rain, moisture pattering against my face and beading on clothes as we pause, the boys zipping up and fixing hoods in place.
Not offering to do mine, nothing for me save yet another lingering look at what they've done, to me. No more smiles only smirks now, enjoying the view, my clear and near total- because I could still run, but where -helplessness. Enjoying the power trip of control, of having a prisoner.
Do they know, realise I'm enjoying it too? The ropes, tight at wrists and chest, arms pinned awkwardly behind but even were I able to talk, I wouldn't protest. And that gag, socks. Tastes like used socks, in my mouth. Rough textured and pungent, filling me to the point I can't avoid contact between tongue and wool.
The whole thing should be humiliating, is, humiliating, but due to the quirk of liking bondage I'm enjoying the sensations of degradation, of being owned and taken advantage of.
Walking. Moving from cover to cover, taking turns holding my leash, taking turns to tug and guide me and I'm a good girl. A model prisoner, ducking when they duck, stopping without being told, jogging the couple of times a random someone is spotted. The boys going still, licked lips and a brief shake. Worry at being caught with me. Like this.
But I aid them in concealing me. To the point Daniel, holding my lead and as we come to a stop inside a dense patch of bush, Ethan already ahead but he stops, turns.
"Good work." Stepping in, quickly and a brief press of him against me, small peck of a kiss to my tape wrapped cheek, close to the- covered -lips.
Stepping back a heartbeat later, blushing, looking away.
Not seeing my own blush, my quickened breath, chest rising falling rising.
Into the woods, shielded from the worst of the drizzle except I'm already quite damp. Moving forward and we step into a clearing, populated by two Nerf gun wielding boys. And Abbey.
Bound, gagged.
Everyone else is busy: Charley has a golf tournament, a whole weekend thing far enough away to warrant a hotel, and Sarah's still grounded though thankfully that ends Monday. Abbey isn't answering her phone, not WhatsApp nor messenger, not even when I ring.
And I don't have any other friends, nor does the- imaginary -boyfriend exist, for obvious reasons. But I don't want to be indoors, despite the clouds and wind outside, the on and off drizzling rain.
So, dressed in pale blue leggings and white Adidas with pink detailing, black cropped 'Hatsune Miko' tee worn beneath a black cropped pullover hoodie. Belly exposed but fuck the cold.
I head out, not bothering to mention the fact, where I'm going or when I'll be home. Nobody cares. Heading in the vague direction of Abbey's and didn't people used to do this? I suppose, in the time before mobile technology you had to physically walk to your friend to see if she was home. Available.
And I could find a hole to fall through, I could go and check, because it has been awhile. Overdue really, but. Not today.
I can't face it today.
Halfway around the Pond, taking the scenic route, no rush to arrive and find Abbey likely not there, wandering, not paying attention when I glance up and see them: Abbey's younger brother, Ethan and another boy, Daniel, I think? Twelve to my fifteen, all in jeans and tee's, puffer jackets unzipped and flapping in the wind. Carrying different styles of Nerf gun, rifles and pistols, as they jog from cover to apparent cover. Tree to bush to signpost.
Playing something and I grin. Too old, getting that way, for toys and yet still young enough for an imagination. For games. Curious, bored anyway and I had wanted something to do, I change angles and break into a jog. Coming from behind to intercept.
We all call it the Pond, I don't remember the official name. A local hangout spot, popular with families in better, warmer weather, the Pond is actually three ponds, joined by a narrow stream which runs a zigzag course between and eventually out under the boundary fence. Couple of small stone waterfalls along the way, the smooth just under the water surface of both slippery. Crossing either is a local right of passage, a game we've all played time and again.
Trees and hills, the path switching from gravelled to mud and back as it loops and divides around from a small car park and back.
"'S up?" Half whispered from less then a foot away, the two of them too focused on an enemy real or pretend? Not hearing me until I'm right there. I grin as they jump, as Ethan swears, dodging backwards moments later as Daniel swings round, fast, the gun barrel of his oversized bright yellow rifle almost catching my arm.
"Fuuuuck."
"Language." I tease, grinning and quite pleased at the reaction my sneaking caused. "Whatcha doing boys?"
"Playing. Well...." Ethan, the boys exchanging glances, shrugs and is it that hard to describe whatever game this is?
"Are you attacking someone?"
"Sort of." Seesaw motion of his hand, whilst Daniel- is it, I'll just assume so until I'm corrected -gestures. Across the pond where the main treeline begins. "It's, well." Another seesaw. "A rescue thing."
"Game."
"Right." Still crouched behind the bush, I stare off towards the small woodland that runs off towards and through the out of sight boundary fence. "So, there's a second group." I point. "Over there. And they've got a. Um, thing, that you have to get back?"
"Todd and Steve." Thumbs up by way of added confirmation. "Basically."
And belatedly, noticing Daniel shift, Ethan look away somewhat hurriedly as I glance at him. Belatedly I realise how close I'm- still -standing to them. These young boys no doubt full of hormones and here's me, curves and E cups, the hoodie slightly baggy but still showing the shape of them. My overall girlness.
Right there, up close.
I giggle into the awkwardness of them both, which likely doesn't help at all.
"Can I have a gun?"
"Huh?"
"I could," I mime shooting, "help?"
"You want to play?" Daniel's mouth gone wide, Ethan's tone disbelief to match. Staring at my chest. "With us?"
"Sure." Smiling, I nod. "Honestly, I'm bored. And," nudging Ethan somewhat playfully, "your sister isn't responding so."
Which, as I shrug he smiles. Smirks, and Daniel laughs as though at a joke?
"What can I do to help?"
"Well...." Small laugh, nervous and they exchange a look.
"Can you give us a moment, to talk?"
"Sure." An easy shrug, not particularly desperate to continue onwards to Abbey. Not now, I stand, stretching and taking a half dozen steps back. Finding the bench so recently jogged passed, sitting down on the backrest feet on the wooden planked seat. Watching the boys talk and gesture.
Taking out a phone, tapping. Talking to someone.
I wait.
"You want to help?"
"I want to play," still sat leaning forward, elbows on knees hands clasped between spread legs, "yes."
"Well." Exchanging a look, small still apparently nervous smiles.
"Please." Asking into the, feels loaded silence. "I don't have to get a gun. I guess." Though it looks fun. "Just, what can I do, to help?"
"Well." Ethan, again, and into the pause I'm about to speak, to offer myself up. Again.
Ha, hindsight.
When he takes a breath and.
"Be our prisoner."
"What?" Laughing, the unexpectedness of it. "You want...?"
"To capture you." Talking fast, gaze falling on then off me. "As a prisoner, who we caught wandering around. Um, somewhere." Casting an arm out towards the great open expanse of the Pond and surrounds. A whole imaginary world within which I was, apparently, wandering like some kind of invitation to be taken and?
"Okay." Okay? What? "So, I'm a prisoner." An easy shrug.
Not thinking, stupid. Not thinking beyond the logic of them having guns, so of course there exists a facet to all this where they could take, capture a prisoner. And why not me?
"I guess that means I surrender?" Standing up, pushing off forwards and the boys hop and skitter backwards, making room but still forming a closed half circle around me, the bench at my back preventing escape. I raise both hands, smile.
"So what happens now?"
Who would've guessed they had rope, and more.
"Prisoners tend to be gagged."
"Well," eyeballing the roll of thick silver tape Daniel has just magicked from a backpack, handing it off to Ethan leaving his hands free to begin pulling dirty off white rope out next, "yes?"
In my experience, definitely, but despite having agreed to join the game in this specific capacity: prisoner, the appearance of actual binding supplies has wrong footed me. Unexpected, and I've never been bound by a boy. Or, boys I suppose. Plus I've never been bound outside, in public.
It's a thing, scenario we four girls have joked about but have never been brave enough to attempt. Something we want to do.
Something I want to do.
These thoughts: boys, public, being bound. I can feel a warm flush spreading through me, excited nerves at what might develop here. What's their plan for me?
What's the endgame?
Questions I should ask, limits I should possibly set. Rules, before I let them gag me, shutting off the ability to protest or.
Removing myself from decisions regarding my own immediate future.
"You don't have to. If," Ethan, slight frown possibly mistaking the shiver that just ran visibly through me, "well."
"I know." Finding a smile for them. Willing. "But. Yes. I want to play this game, because I'm really fucking bored."
Laughing, and with a mixture of smiles and laughter the boys relax too. Tension draining out of them, bodies loosening, nerves seeming less.
"So." A shrug, trying to tamp down on the tingles, a spreading numbness bought on by anticipation. "If playing means I'm the bound and gagged prisoner, then. Carry on." Putting my hands back up, surrendering. "Do your worst, but." A nerve filled giggle escapes. "Make sure I'm home before dark. Please."
Nerf guns already resting on the- thank fuck off the main path -bench, and shouldn't one of them be covering. Checking angles and protecting us from the other group? Guess not. Together they make short work of me, guiding limbs and holding me still. Not once asking permission, which I already gave despite not knowing just how far things might go.
Clearly they've been watching stuff, sneaking under the parental safe search blocks at home, because fuck me the bondage is good. Tight.
A pair of socks, woolen boys things thicker then anything I've worn, white with a red and blue stripe across the top and red patch marking the toes. Balled up and stuffed in my mouth by Daniel, the boys grinning as the sudden unexpected taste- roughness, slight odour -makes my eyes bulge.
Quickly wrapping that thick tape around my head, mouth totally covered in seconds, running the strip high and low and pressing it down as they work. No chance of spitting the socks out, no chance of talking in anything beyond muffled moans and grunts. Blonde curls plastered to my face, messy. Breathing fast in slight panic.
But loving it.
Wrists held immobile, crossed behind me whilst rope is applied, wrapped and yanked to close the loop. Pinch against bare skin and I squirm but am not released nor is the rope slackened.
I agreed after all, too late now.
The same rope that's pinning my wrists, a stupidly long length, is now wrapped around my chest, above the breasts and I gasp, involuntarily moaning as with a tug, yanking, the tightening looped rope somehow forces my bound wrists up. From crossed and hands pointed down at the waist to crossed and hands flailing upwards, pinned at the small of my back as more loops are made, above and below my breasts. Pinching and squeezing through the layers of cropped hoodie and tee.
The boys eyes going wide as they see what they've done, my own blinking, lazily, thoughts going thick like soup, fogged and all I'm really able to focus on is the pinching rope, the awful tasting mouth filling gag.
How absolutely amazing the whole thing feels. Is.
As a final humiliation I'm collared. Clearly prepared, or maybe they always carry this shit around? Out the backpack comes a brown leather dog collar and attached same colour lead. Which they put on me, causing a blush as the buckle is yanked tight but not to the point of strangling, breath catching as Ethan takes up the looped end of the lead.
Giving a small tug, smile on his face as my neck is jerked forward. As, helpless to fight I'm forced to fall into step. Being led away, bound and gagged, Daniel flanking at one side.
Breasts squeezed and seemingly offered up by the chest ropes under and over, and even with the slight baggy cut of the hoodie the shape of them is obvious now. Shift and slight bounce as I walk.
"Okay?"
"Dddhhhhfffff." Nodding, can't think straight, still. Body hot, arms and exposed belly a sea of tingles. "Ggmmmnn ssrrppfff."
"Well," Ethan offers me a grin, "you did agree. So." Giving the lead another playful tug. "Too late to back out now." Winking. "Prisoner."
"Hhhggggffffmmmnnnmmm." Slow blinking, the word. Prisoner. Doing nothing to help lift my fogged funk. I've sunk far to deeply into the thrill of it all to care.
We walk. Staying on the path and I should worry about being seen, there's still the occasional dog walker even in bad weather.
Which as though summoned by thought, the drizzle appears, the world becoming soft and hazy, light fog descending. Rain, moisture pattering against my face and beading on clothes as we pause, the boys zipping up and fixing hoods in place.
Not offering to do mine, nothing for me save yet another lingering look at what they've done, to me. No more smiles only smirks now, enjoying the view, my clear and near total- because I could still run, but where -helplessness. Enjoying the power trip of control, of having a prisoner.
Do they know, realise I'm enjoying it too? The ropes, tight at wrists and chest, arms pinned awkwardly behind but even were I able to talk, I wouldn't protest. And that gag, socks. Tastes like used socks, in my mouth. Rough textured and pungent, filling me to the point I can't avoid contact between tongue and wool.
The whole thing should be humiliating, is, humiliating, but due to the quirk of liking bondage I'm enjoying the sensations of degradation, of being owned and taken advantage of.
Walking. Moving from cover to cover, taking turns holding my leash, taking turns to tug and guide me and I'm a good girl. A model prisoner, ducking when they duck, stopping without being told, jogging the couple of times a random someone is spotted. The boys going still, licked lips and a brief shake. Worry at being caught with me. Like this.
But I aid them in concealing me. To the point Daniel, holding my lead and as we come to a stop inside a dense patch of bush, Ethan already ahead but he stops, turns.
"Good work." Stepping in, quickly and a brief press of him against me, small peck of a kiss to my tape wrapped cheek, close to the- covered -lips.
Stepping back a heartbeat later, blushing, looking away.
Not seeing my own blush, my quickened breath, chest rising falling rising.
Into the woods, shielded from the worst of the drizzle except I'm already quite damp. Moving forward and we step into a clearing, populated by two Nerf gun wielding boys. And Abbey.
Bound, gagged.
Wonderful couple of chapters @RopeBunny looking forward to hearing how Abby is dressed and restrained not to mention what happens to the two helpless prisoners next. Awesome as always
Thanks for dropping byBandit666 wrote: 4 months ago looking forward to hearing how Abby is dressed and restrained not to mention what happens to the two helpless prisoners next
Happy to say the next chapter will be a direct follow on and not some kind of side ramble
so Abbey's fate, and the eventually fate of them both will be explained -
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 365
- Joined: 3 years ago
It is a serious moment, but I have to admit, every time I read 'Livyatan' I think 'legally distinct Leviathan'RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago "Are you there?"
"Always." The voice, from within, the darkness: Livyatan, from the pit of me the voice forever sounding like an approaching storm. Distant thunder, menace. The occasional serpentine movement, felt within, coiling or loosening.
Restless.
Hmm. The whole interlude is very intriguing!RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago "I have lived long. I have killed. And taken. I have ruled. And I thought, looking at you, small, broken. I thought: perhaps I can fix this, perhaps she will teach me another way."
"So." Finding a smile, feeling it stick. Grow. It isn't often you're paid compliments by a Dark God. "An adventure?"
"Yes."
"Well." Kicking off, a bounce in my step. Lighter, better. "Okay."
Again, more hints, and again, very intriguing!RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago And I could find a hole to fall through, I could go and check, because it has been awhile. Overdue really, but. Not today.
I can't face it today.
Ha indeed. Very specific language thereRopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago "Please." Asking into the, feels loaded silence. "I don't have to get a gun. I guess." Though it looks fun. "Just, what can I do, to help?"
"Well." Ethan, again, and into the pause I'm about to speak, to offer myself up. Again.
Ha, hindsight.
And seems like the two boys know what they are doing - guess the little miscreants have been plotting something like this for a while!
Well. Guess there is a reason they were looking for a prisoner of their ownRopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago Into the woods, shielded from the worst of the drizzle except I'm already quite damp. Moving forward and we step into a clearing, populated by two Nerf gun wielding boys. And Abbey.
Bound, gagged.
Looking forward to it!RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago Happy to say the next chapter will be a direct follow on and not some kind of side ramble
BlissfulMisery wrote: 4 months agoIt is a serious moment, but I have to admit, every time I read 'Livyatan' I think 'legally distinct Leviathan'RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago "Are you there?"
"Always." The voice, from within, the darkness: Livyatan, from the pit of me the voice forever sounding like an approaching storm. Distant thunder, menace. The occasional serpentine movement, felt within, coiling or loosening.
Restless.
From what research I did, though, it appears Livyatan is the Hebrew/Latin for Leviathan. And I wanted something known, rather then something I'd made up, this time.
And there is this....
Mention of Miss Elderflower adopting an accent when she speaks the name, hinting at the foreign nature.RopeBunny wrote: 4 months ago 002.
....
"Livyatan." Head bowed and hands clasped behind her back. The word, the, name. My, name. Her accent shifting perfectly, picking up the foreign ness of it and I can't stop the shiver chasing quickly down spine and arms.
Thanks for commenting, still got some more answers to come, getting there
Next chapter below.
004.
Todd and Steve, presumably. More twelve year olds, with Nerf guns and the ever present puffer jacket. And they've got a bound prisoner too.
It's like playing snap, or a really shit version of spot the difference.
"Took your fucking time."
"Shut up Todd." From Ethan, handily confirming who's who, for me. No anger or snarl in the retort though, delivered whilst he works at securing too dumb, too into it to notice the brief chance me.
Leash removed, tossed up and over a branch, one you'd have trouble reaching on tip toes. Dangling metal clip grabbed, pulled down and fed through the looped handle, pulled tight so the leash is fixed to the branch, after which I'm reattached, secured.
The four boys wander off to one side and begin talking, easy low tones impossible to overhear actual words and besides I'm still buzzing somewhat. Still existing in the fog of bondage, nothing else feeling real.
Staring across the clearing at Abbey as she stares back, taking each other in.
My own blue leggings and cropped black pullover hoodie are, by now quite wet due to the fog like drizzle I've been forced to walk through the last half hour plus. There are socks in my mouth, Ethan's or Daniel's I don't have a fucking clue? They aren't clean, the rough wool is harsh on my tongue. The taste pungent, the socks held in place by wrapped silver tape, thick loops around my head.
Wrists are pinned behind my back, crossed with hands pointed upwards, rope around my chest, above and below squeezing at E cups, the whole complex tie is well knotted and yanked very tight, easily enough to prevent escape. Add in the brown leather dog collar and leash, and I'm helpless.
A prisoner, something I'd agreed to without fully understanding the implications. Because I'm stupid, and didn't ask.
Abbey, dryer then me and I wonder how long she's been here? Under the tree cover, bound.
How did she end up bound?
A black leather jacket, fake biker style and small, like my hoodie cut to leave a slash of exposed belly. Three quarters unzipped, showing off cleavage nestled inside a white and black vertical striped v neck top. Long brown skirt covering her legs down to a pair of black slip on low heeled boots, stretchy fabric showing the shape of her limbs.
She's been rope bound to a tree. Very enthusiastically it would seem. Arms pulled around behind the thin trunk legs pressed together, Abbey's whole body is criss-crossed and pinched, pinned. Even her neck. Even rope used as a gag, forced and pressing between spread lips, drool visibly running down her chin. Her cleavage shiny with it.
She clearly can't move beyond the most basic and minimal of wriggles, and like me she's unable to talk.
How did she get here?
"Right." Ethan, apparently elected leader, or maybe just he wants to do the talking? Clapping his hands once to attract mine and Abbey's attention. "Jane." A nod for me before dropping his sister a wink. "Sis."
"Fffsssgggghhhhhmmm."
"Shouldn't of said yes sis." A smiling shrug. "You've got to learn to spot a rigged game."
"Mmmnnddd pppffgggss nnssgg."
"Yeah, well." Another shrug, uncaring, and as the obvious winner in all this why should he.
They.
"Point is." Stopping to wait out a final brief struggle, glancing across but I shake my head. Staying still.
I'll be good.
"Point is the weather man says more rain." Waving a phone at us both. "Heavy rain, so, we're heading inside because Steve's got an empty house until eight. So." Grinning, victory written across all four boys faces. "That means the two of you are coming to Steve's with us."
"The deal is," pausing to lick his lips and I guess tamp down some nerves, because despite acting otherwise they can't really force us to come, "if you behave then you get to choose how we bind you at Steve's. But if you fuck about or whatever we'll stake you out in the back garden and let the rain have you."
The ultimatum, though fake nonetheless sends a chill down my spine.
Willingly walking back to a boys house, letting the four of them bind and gag me there.
Or, and my fogged thoughts aren't even acknowledging the third choice of refusing to play.
Or, if I'm bad I'll be. Staked out? In the garden? Which conjures an image: stripped to my white bra and purple lace boy pants, body splayed out into a wide X shape, legs pulled apart, limbs lashed at wrist and ankle to wooden stakes hammered into the ground. Stretched to the point of discomfort and mouth filled by a ballgag, something none of us have ever worn.
Something I dream about.
Abandoned, rain falling heavy, mercilessly soaking me through. Day turning to dusk turning to night whilst I lay. Helpless. Punished.
Vividness of it making me shiver, blink. But, no. It's all just too extreme, and I doubt reality would live up to fantasy, and besides which they can't. Could not do that to me. To us, because this is the real world, and there are rules.
So.
The boys untie us, because they- real world -have to. And are unable to hide their surprise as, having exchanged a brief look, small grin chasing itself from Abbey's lips to mine and back, we fall in behind them.
Just a couple of bondage obsessed girls, what are you going to do?
"How'd they get you?" Walking with arms linked and bodies pressed close, infectious grins chasing back and forth. Trailing the boys who keep glancing back as though expecting us to vanish if they don't. Quiet conspiratorial tones in both groups as though we're enemies.
Maybe we are?
"Tricked me." A shrug, a giggle I can't help echoing. "Saw it coming about halfway in but," gently nudging herself into me, playful, "I'm into it. So."
"So you let them anyway."
"Pretty much."
Ethan glancing back, frowning at the cheeky wave I offer, Abbey giggling probably not helping.
Probably wishing they'd left us in the woods.
I kinda do too.
"Any of the others ever been tied by boys?"
"Don't think so?" Frowning in thought. "They've never said. So."
"Guess not." Shaking her head, smiling. "Kinda different though."
"Right." I nod, considering the word before I say it. "And, um. Fun."
"True." Briefly scrunching her face up moments later though and. "Bit weird it's my brother though."
"S'okay," starting to laugh, "I'll let him do me instead."
Which earns me a playful slap, and more furtive glances from in front, which gets Abbey laughing too.
"Gunna let them bind us?"
"Sure." Think we're almost there, feels like it, houses closing in on both sides. "Little nervous, but."
"But it's bondage," matching my shrug, "and saying no is hard."
"So hard." Grins swapped. "Any thoughts?"
"Presuming they'll let us choose."
"We could insist?"
"True." Nodding, likely thinking the same points as me: real world, the boys can't force us to let them bind and gag us.
But.
"More fun if we let them decide?"
"True."
"Unless they want to do some perve shit like tie us together."
"Ha." Pulling Abbey close and she side hugs me back, probably feeling the same nervous fluttering in the pit of her belly too.
Could've guessed, had I cared to think it through, that, given the choice, the verbal permission by way of us shrugging, telling them to do whatever, the boys were bound- ha -to do 'some perve shit' with us.
Steve's house is a mid terrace, narrow but long the whole downstairs one huge room, stretched kitchen going backwards at the rear and open stairs in one corner heading upwards. The six of us shrug off jackets and hoodies, boots and trainers.
The boys, obvious nerves and eyes skating on then off us. Standing, waiting for permission or some cue.
Abbey and me, standing close together nearby, twitching and fidgeting, feeling exposed and at the same time too hot. Waiting for the boys to take the lead.
And, eventually a halting conversation brings us to. Permission given, and the boys begin to smile now and seeing such my fluttering grows, and beside me Abbey, breathing fast and she shivers, showing me a too wide smile.
Nerves.
Under instruction we two lay down atop a thick rug in the rooms rough centre. Not the real centre but the focal point, halfway between large flatscreen and sofa. Laying down yet a half minute later we're up, kneeling instead, facing each other across touching distance as the boys change their mind?
Or just got their order of things mixed up.
Watching as Steve and Daniel bind Abbey, feeling and occasionally seeing Ethan or Todd, working on me. Making us mirror images.
Kneeling with legs together, legs bound and forced tight at ankle and knee, upper thigh. And whilst Abbey's can only be wrapped, due to her long figure hugging skirt, mine the ropes can be passed between, which very effectively tightens the wrapped loops.
Breath catching as I feel unfamiliar hands pushing rope between my legs, high up and close to- not touching, not within the danger zone but close enough to trigger a response -my crotch. Licking lips gone dry, looking at Abbey who offers a nervous smile, hands balling and releasing fists at her side.
Binding our chests. Perverts, and whilst nobody actually touches my E cups, nor Abbey's smaller yet still pert and rounded C's hands skate close on numerous occasions. Rope passed above, below, diving down between and back up. Tugging and squeezing, the tie pushing Abbey's breasts higher, forcing more cleavage whilst mine, larger are now pressing completely against the fabric of my black cropped tee.
More instructions aided this time by the boys physically manoeuvring us, as though having- almost -touched out breasts we're now fair game. Abbey and me are laid back down, pushed together, belly to belly contact.
And, distracted by her closeness, by the feel of skin pressing to skin at our bellies, my wrists are already bound and pinned by the time I realise they've been forced and pulled around behind Abbey, her own arms similarly hugging me, her own wrists bound off at the small of my back. Bound to my waist as mine are to hers.
The boys wasting no time binding our legs together at ankles and knees, our bodies at the waist and mid chest, wrapping and criss-crossing rope up and down us. Sealing Abbey and me into a bondage hug.
And Ethan, amused, smiling as are they all, gently but firmly pressing our heads together, face to face and.
Panic, brief struggle from us both, furious blinking and.
Nothing we can do. Helpless already, powerless to prevent the boys forcing our lips to lock, tape wrapped round and around our heads, pinning them in position.
Forcing the prolonged contact, the continuous kiss.
All of them stepping back and off, grins and laughter. Pleased and well they should be. Staring into Abbey's too close eyes, feeling the moistness of her lips, parting. Sudden darting contact of her tongue and my eyes go wide. I squeal in surprise, my own mouth widening and her tongue slips in, touching mine and I see her eyes widen now in shock.
She hadn't even realised she was doing it.
Abbey squealing too, both of us rolling and squirming, kissing but not. Unintentional, lips moving as we moan and fight each other and the ropes.
Liking it all on some deep level, feeling like too much at the time, too many sensations: kissing and the feel of her pressed into me, forced into me by the metres of wrapped and tightened rope, breasts and belly and skin. Hot, sweating as time elapses. Kissing, but without conscious thought to the act. Abbey's lips pressed and forced to mine forced to hers and we can't not move them. To breathe, to moan and grunt at the effort of repeated failed attempts to escape.
Each time she or I move it triggers something like a kiss, which in turn triggers a whole wealth of internal responses.
Disgust.
Embarrassment.
A deep tingle.
Humiliation, that we're being watched, that the boys are enjoying seeing too older girls wriggle and rub up against one another. Squashed breasts and the knowledge of our lips.
And it's only later, picking through the day, alone, that I'll come upon the enjoyment of it. Partly due to the bondage, and when I'm coherent, whenever I surface from my own fogged funk, the bondage having claimed me like always, lost to the amazing feel of it. When I am able to pay attention I can see myself in Abbey, her own eyes often hooded, far off.
Not hating it either, this new aspect, the twist of forced closeness because whilst we've been tied together, many times in all combinations across the four of us.
We've never been bound face to face.
And I wonder, later, the thought bringing on a shiver of delight: what would it be like in our underwear?
I don't honestly know how long they'd of kept us bound, neither of us girls were in a position to pass comment and besides, like I said, yes at the time it was overwhelming, but if asked I've no doubt we'd both of said.
'No, we're fine, thanks.'
But, with Abbey on top, weight of her pressing down, eyes drifting and unintentionally rubbing her body up and down mine. Slightly, the ropes preventing much but she is moving, squirming whilst I remain largely still, lost to myself, the pinching tightness all down my body.
A sudden bang at the door, three quickfire knocks and all the boys, lounging around, chatting and swapping the PlayStation controller as they talk and watch us.
Watch us some more.
All four of them leaping up, looking guilty as fuck despite we'd agreed and the moment hangs, balanced and stretching.
Nothing.
But in the wake of it they've clearly had enough, have lost the nerves and enthusiasm for lording it over us poor helpless girls.
I walk Abbey home, arms linked as before, on our way to the- gallows -intense bondage, talking about everything but what just happened, and I can still taste her.
Can still feel the pressure of her pinned against me.
And I worry, having unpicked it all, having decided I did like it. Five stars would try again, somewhen and somehow. I worry they'll be an awkwardness now, a shift in the group dynamic and that Abbey will create a distance between herself and me.
Intentionally or without even knowing.
But, the next morning at school she links arms with me walking to class. Smiles and leans in.
"Fun."
"Fun."
"But," both of us whispering due to Charley and Sarah being right in front, "weird. Right?"
"Weird." Nodding, looking her in the eye, my own dancing, feels like. "But I'd do it again," nodding forwards at the other two, "with any of you."
"Me too."
"Race you."
"Fuck off." Laughing, which brings Charley around, frowning.
"What's so funny?"
"Um...."
"Well...."
Unable to keep straight faces, so we. Laughing frequently, grinning like we're high. We tell them.
And though Charley blushes, and Sarah fidgets, it's clear they like the sound of it too.
Todd and Steve, presumably. More twelve year olds, with Nerf guns and the ever present puffer jacket. And they've got a bound prisoner too.
It's like playing snap, or a really shit version of spot the difference.
"Took your fucking time."
"Shut up Todd." From Ethan, handily confirming who's who, for me. No anger or snarl in the retort though, delivered whilst he works at securing too dumb, too into it to notice the brief chance me.
Leash removed, tossed up and over a branch, one you'd have trouble reaching on tip toes. Dangling metal clip grabbed, pulled down and fed through the looped handle, pulled tight so the leash is fixed to the branch, after which I'm reattached, secured.
The four boys wander off to one side and begin talking, easy low tones impossible to overhear actual words and besides I'm still buzzing somewhat. Still existing in the fog of bondage, nothing else feeling real.
Staring across the clearing at Abbey as she stares back, taking each other in.
My own blue leggings and cropped black pullover hoodie are, by now quite wet due to the fog like drizzle I've been forced to walk through the last half hour plus. There are socks in my mouth, Ethan's or Daniel's I don't have a fucking clue? They aren't clean, the rough wool is harsh on my tongue. The taste pungent, the socks held in place by wrapped silver tape, thick loops around my head.
Wrists are pinned behind my back, crossed with hands pointed upwards, rope around my chest, above and below squeezing at E cups, the whole complex tie is well knotted and yanked very tight, easily enough to prevent escape. Add in the brown leather dog collar and leash, and I'm helpless.
A prisoner, something I'd agreed to without fully understanding the implications. Because I'm stupid, and didn't ask.
Abbey, dryer then me and I wonder how long she's been here? Under the tree cover, bound.
How did she end up bound?
A black leather jacket, fake biker style and small, like my hoodie cut to leave a slash of exposed belly. Three quarters unzipped, showing off cleavage nestled inside a white and black vertical striped v neck top. Long brown skirt covering her legs down to a pair of black slip on low heeled boots, stretchy fabric showing the shape of her limbs.
She's been rope bound to a tree. Very enthusiastically it would seem. Arms pulled around behind the thin trunk legs pressed together, Abbey's whole body is criss-crossed and pinched, pinned. Even her neck. Even rope used as a gag, forced and pressing between spread lips, drool visibly running down her chin. Her cleavage shiny with it.
She clearly can't move beyond the most basic and minimal of wriggles, and like me she's unable to talk.
How did she get here?
"Right." Ethan, apparently elected leader, or maybe just he wants to do the talking? Clapping his hands once to attract mine and Abbey's attention. "Jane." A nod for me before dropping his sister a wink. "Sis."
"Fffsssgggghhhhhmmm."
"Shouldn't of said yes sis." A smiling shrug. "You've got to learn to spot a rigged game."
"Mmmnnddd pppffgggss nnssgg."
"Yeah, well." Another shrug, uncaring, and as the obvious winner in all this why should he.
They.
"Point is." Stopping to wait out a final brief struggle, glancing across but I shake my head. Staying still.
I'll be good.
"Point is the weather man says more rain." Waving a phone at us both. "Heavy rain, so, we're heading inside because Steve's got an empty house until eight. So." Grinning, victory written across all four boys faces. "That means the two of you are coming to Steve's with us."
"The deal is," pausing to lick his lips and I guess tamp down some nerves, because despite acting otherwise they can't really force us to come, "if you behave then you get to choose how we bind you at Steve's. But if you fuck about or whatever we'll stake you out in the back garden and let the rain have you."
The ultimatum, though fake nonetheless sends a chill down my spine.
Willingly walking back to a boys house, letting the four of them bind and gag me there.
Or, and my fogged thoughts aren't even acknowledging the third choice of refusing to play.
Or, if I'm bad I'll be. Staked out? In the garden? Which conjures an image: stripped to my white bra and purple lace boy pants, body splayed out into a wide X shape, legs pulled apart, limbs lashed at wrist and ankle to wooden stakes hammered into the ground. Stretched to the point of discomfort and mouth filled by a ballgag, something none of us have ever worn.
Something I dream about.
Abandoned, rain falling heavy, mercilessly soaking me through. Day turning to dusk turning to night whilst I lay. Helpless. Punished.
Vividness of it making me shiver, blink. But, no. It's all just too extreme, and I doubt reality would live up to fantasy, and besides which they can't. Could not do that to me. To us, because this is the real world, and there are rules.
So.
The boys untie us, because they- real world -have to. And are unable to hide their surprise as, having exchanged a brief look, small grin chasing itself from Abbey's lips to mine and back, we fall in behind them.
Just a couple of bondage obsessed girls, what are you going to do?
"How'd they get you?" Walking with arms linked and bodies pressed close, infectious grins chasing back and forth. Trailing the boys who keep glancing back as though expecting us to vanish if they don't. Quiet conspiratorial tones in both groups as though we're enemies.
Maybe we are?
"Tricked me." A shrug, a giggle I can't help echoing. "Saw it coming about halfway in but," gently nudging herself into me, playful, "I'm into it. So."
"So you let them anyway."
"Pretty much."
Ethan glancing back, frowning at the cheeky wave I offer, Abbey giggling probably not helping.
Probably wishing they'd left us in the woods.
I kinda do too.
"Any of the others ever been tied by boys?"
"Don't think so?" Frowning in thought. "They've never said. So."
"Guess not." Shaking her head, smiling. "Kinda different though."
"Right." I nod, considering the word before I say it. "And, um. Fun."
"True." Briefly scrunching her face up moments later though and. "Bit weird it's my brother though."
"S'okay," starting to laugh, "I'll let him do me instead."
Which earns me a playful slap, and more furtive glances from in front, which gets Abbey laughing too.
"Gunna let them bind us?"
"Sure." Think we're almost there, feels like it, houses closing in on both sides. "Little nervous, but."
"But it's bondage," matching my shrug, "and saying no is hard."
"So hard." Grins swapped. "Any thoughts?"
"Presuming they'll let us choose."
"We could insist?"
"True." Nodding, likely thinking the same points as me: real world, the boys can't force us to let them bind and gag us.
But.
"More fun if we let them decide?"
"True."
"Unless they want to do some perve shit like tie us together."
"Ha." Pulling Abbey close and she side hugs me back, probably feeling the same nervous fluttering in the pit of her belly too.
Could've guessed, had I cared to think it through, that, given the choice, the verbal permission by way of us shrugging, telling them to do whatever, the boys were bound- ha -to do 'some perve shit' with us.
Steve's house is a mid terrace, narrow but long the whole downstairs one huge room, stretched kitchen going backwards at the rear and open stairs in one corner heading upwards. The six of us shrug off jackets and hoodies, boots and trainers.
The boys, obvious nerves and eyes skating on then off us. Standing, waiting for permission or some cue.
Abbey and me, standing close together nearby, twitching and fidgeting, feeling exposed and at the same time too hot. Waiting for the boys to take the lead.
And, eventually a halting conversation brings us to. Permission given, and the boys begin to smile now and seeing such my fluttering grows, and beside me Abbey, breathing fast and she shivers, showing me a too wide smile.
Nerves.
Under instruction we two lay down atop a thick rug in the rooms rough centre. Not the real centre but the focal point, halfway between large flatscreen and sofa. Laying down yet a half minute later we're up, kneeling instead, facing each other across touching distance as the boys change their mind?
Or just got their order of things mixed up.
Watching as Steve and Daniel bind Abbey, feeling and occasionally seeing Ethan or Todd, working on me. Making us mirror images.
Kneeling with legs together, legs bound and forced tight at ankle and knee, upper thigh. And whilst Abbey's can only be wrapped, due to her long figure hugging skirt, mine the ropes can be passed between, which very effectively tightens the wrapped loops.
Breath catching as I feel unfamiliar hands pushing rope between my legs, high up and close to- not touching, not within the danger zone but close enough to trigger a response -my crotch. Licking lips gone dry, looking at Abbey who offers a nervous smile, hands balling and releasing fists at her side.
Binding our chests. Perverts, and whilst nobody actually touches my E cups, nor Abbey's smaller yet still pert and rounded C's hands skate close on numerous occasions. Rope passed above, below, diving down between and back up. Tugging and squeezing, the tie pushing Abbey's breasts higher, forcing more cleavage whilst mine, larger are now pressing completely against the fabric of my black cropped tee.
More instructions aided this time by the boys physically manoeuvring us, as though having- almost -touched out breasts we're now fair game. Abbey and me are laid back down, pushed together, belly to belly contact.
And, distracted by her closeness, by the feel of skin pressing to skin at our bellies, my wrists are already bound and pinned by the time I realise they've been forced and pulled around behind Abbey, her own arms similarly hugging me, her own wrists bound off at the small of my back. Bound to my waist as mine are to hers.
The boys wasting no time binding our legs together at ankles and knees, our bodies at the waist and mid chest, wrapping and criss-crossing rope up and down us. Sealing Abbey and me into a bondage hug.
And Ethan, amused, smiling as are they all, gently but firmly pressing our heads together, face to face and.
Panic, brief struggle from us both, furious blinking and.
Nothing we can do. Helpless already, powerless to prevent the boys forcing our lips to lock, tape wrapped round and around our heads, pinning them in position.
Forcing the prolonged contact, the continuous kiss.
All of them stepping back and off, grins and laughter. Pleased and well they should be. Staring into Abbey's too close eyes, feeling the moistness of her lips, parting. Sudden darting contact of her tongue and my eyes go wide. I squeal in surprise, my own mouth widening and her tongue slips in, touching mine and I see her eyes widen now in shock.
She hadn't even realised she was doing it.
Abbey squealing too, both of us rolling and squirming, kissing but not. Unintentional, lips moving as we moan and fight each other and the ropes.
Liking it all on some deep level, feeling like too much at the time, too many sensations: kissing and the feel of her pressed into me, forced into me by the metres of wrapped and tightened rope, breasts and belly and skin. Hot, sweating as time elapses. Kissing, but without conscious thought to the act. Abbey's lips pressed and forced to mine forced to hers and we can't not move them. To breathe, to moan and grunt at the effort of repeated failed attempts to escape.
Each time she or I move it triggers something like a kiss, which in turn triggers a whole wealth of internal responses.
Disgust.
Embarrassment.
A deep tingle.
Humiliation, that we're being watched, that the boys are enjoying seeing too older girls wriggle and rub up against one another. Squashed breasts and the knowledge of our lips.
And it's only later, picking through the day, alone, that I'll come upon the enjoyment of it. Partly due to the bondage, and when I'm coherent, whenever I surface from my own fogged funk, the bondage having claimed me like always, lost to the amazing feel of it. When I am able to pay attention I can see myself in Abbey, her own eyes often hooded, far off.
Not hating it either, this new aspect, the twist of forced closeness because whilst we've been tied together, many times in all combinations across the four of us.
We've never been bound face to face.
And I wonder, later, the thought bringing on a shiver of delight: what would it be like in our underwear?
I don't honestly know how long they'd of kept us bound, neither of us girls were in a position to pass comment and besides, like I said, yes at the time it was overwhelming, but if asked I've no doubt we'd both of said.
'No, we're fine, thanks.'
But, with Abbey on top, weight of her pressing down, eyes drifting and unintentionally rubbing her body up and down mine. Slightly, the ropes preventing much but she is moving, squirming whilst I remain largely still, lost to myself, the pinching tightness all down my body.
A sudden bang at the door, three quickfire knocks and all the boys, lounging around, chatting and swapping the PlayStation controller as they talk and watch us.
Watch us some more.
All four of them leaping up, looking guilty as fuck despite we'd agreed and the moment hangs, balanced and stretching.
Nothing.
But in the wake of it they've clearly had enough, have lost the nerves and enthusiasm for lording it over us poor helpless girls.
I walk Abbey home, arms linked as before, on our way to the- gallows -intense bondage, talking about everything but what just happened, and I can still taste her.
Can still feel the pressure of her pinned against me.
And I worry, having unpicked it all, having decided I did like it. Five stars would try again, somewhen and somehow. I worry they'll be an awkwardness now, a shift in the group dynamic and that Abbey will create a distance between herself and me.
Intentionally or without even knowing.
But, the next morning at school she links arms with me walking to class. Smiles and leans in.
"Fun."
"Fun."
"But," both of us whispering due to Charley and Sarah being right in front, "weird. Right?"
"Weird." Nodding, looking her in the eye, my own dancing, feels like. "But I'd do it again," nodding forwards at the other two, "with any of you."
"Me too."
"Race you."
"Fuck off." Laughing, which brings Charley around, frowning.
"What's so funny?"
"Um...."
"Well...."
Unable to keep straight faces, so we. Laughing frequently, grinning like we're high. We tell them.
And though Charley blushes, and Sarah fidgets, it's clear they like the sound of it too.
Well what can I say but thanks for another great chapter looking forward to more, maybe even next time those two naughty girls in their underwear lol
-
TightsBound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 538
- Joined: 7 years ago
- Location: CT, USA
All of your stories are beyond exceptional, and this one is continuing the trend! Great story, and that last chapter really upped the ante. Looking forward to more fun Jane and Abbey!