Jane's got a secret (mf+/f+) *STORY UPDATED 23/02*

[BlissfulMisery]

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.

Yeah, I was/am aware. But still hard to shake the thought/too obvious of a joke. Funny thing with all these old texts is they tend to draw quite a bit of inspiration from each other

Mention of Miss Elderflower adopting an accent when she speaks the name, hinting at the foreign nature.

Fair.

-

A prisoner, something I'd agreed to without fully understanding the implications. Because I'm stupid, and didn't ask.

Perhaps a lesson to be learned there... one that I doubt she will actually learn

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.

Probably reading too much into it, but seems like a hint of disappointment there! Understandable

as though having- almost -touched out breasts we're now fair game

Small typo: 'out' should be 'our'.

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.

Enjoyed the whole chapter, but especially liked this little 'aftermath'. Great depictions of the mixed emotions at play!

[RopeBunny]

A prisoner, something I'd agreed to without fully understanding the implications. Because I'm stupid, and didn't ask.

Perhaps a lesson to be learned there... one that I doubt she will actually learn

Doubt she will after all, if she did, learn to be more careful regarding bondage. There wouldn't be much of a story

Probably reading too much into it, but seems like a hint of disappointment there! Understandable

Possibly my own disappointment leaking through. Or knowledge of the pivot, could've gone into unreal territory at this point (and possibly will in future, after all I frequently do ) but at this point, in this chapter I'm opting for 'real world' logic.

Looking forward to more fun Jane and Abbey!

Thanks for dropping a comment

Won't always be Jane and Abbey mixing it up, for instance the next chapter (below) features Sarah, with Jane.

maybe even next time those two naughty girls in their underwear lol

Not quite underwear, but, see below

[RopeBunny]

History.
Summertime.

She's hardly fat: Sarah. Rounded belly pushing against whatever top she happens to wear, thicker limbs doing likewise to skirts or leggings. She can get self conscious, comparing herself to the group and yes the difference is noticeable. Sarah wears mostly sixteen, occasionally eighteen whilst we slip between and around the ten to twelve size range, depending on the shop or item.

But she looks great, curvy, we all repeatedly tell her.

Because it's true.

And I've managed to convince her, clothes shopping in Primark and now we're back at hers for a try on session, specifically bikinis, because despite the on and off rain today is a summers day, and I talked Sarah into not buying yet another one piece.

So.

"Have fun girls?"
"Yes mum."
"Yes, Mrs Nillstock."
"Good." Offering us a smile. "Are you staying for dinner, Jane?"
"I'm...." Glancing at Sarah, who nods. Smiling. "Yes, thank you."
"We're going to my room to. Um." Small blush. "Try on what we bought."
"Good plan," picking her book back up and nodding. We leave her to it, grabbing a can each and heading upstairs.

Sarah's walls are covered in art, fantasy inspired posters of dragons and wizards mixing with anime, movie stuff. A framed one of her own making sits pride of place over the single bed: the four of us girls rendered as anime, ballooned breasts and curves and crazy hair, skimpy clothing totally inappropriate to the impressive futuristic pair of long and low slung, bulky motorcycles we're riding. Sat pillion behind me, Sarah, turning with one arm extended out, shotgun firing behind at unseen pursuit.

There's another framed original downstairs: Sarah's family this time, dad and mum and older sister, rendered as olde world anime warriors. Dad in full plate and mum a witch, sister the archer, sporting a bow taller then herself and Sarah leaning against an equally oversized axe.

Retreating to opposite corners, backs turned we strip off. Sarah is self conscious, and I've no great desire to flash my tits at her. So.

Small shiver as I reach total nudity and I could've changed my top, then bottoms separately, but I forgot. Shiver of knowing she isn't looking but wondering anyway, sense of exposure.

Glancing at the window, half expecting the curtains to be suddenly open despite we closed them, a face at the window despite we're on the first floor. Peering in.

Slipping on my newly purchased bikini, white thong bottoms, tie side, slim triangle at the front and smaller behind, thinness of it lost between my rounded firm buttcheeks. Halter style top not trusting my E's inside something smaller, they'd leak out, pop free. Oops. Black piping framing green camouflage, and once tied off at the neck I've got a pleasing amount of cleavage, breasts pressed and nestled together.

"Ready?"
"Hang on." I wait, stretching, readjusting my chest though there's no need. Fidgeting, basically until.

"Okay."

Sarah's bottoms are tie side thong style too, a mirror to mine except black. I'd talked and persuaded and gently bullied her into it. Her top is like a rectangular strip of fabric covering both breasts, like a crop top with string thin straps and no back save a criss-crossing of more string holding everything together. The thin material hugs her D cups, belly humping out beneath, slightly hanging over the thong waistband.

"You look amazing."
"You," nodding towards me, "look amazing. I feel...." Trailing off, fingering her top, hand running down over that rounded belly.

Self conscious, biting her lip and I can see regretting it. Not seeing what I see and we rarely do, most don't see themselves in the best of lights. Sarah just sees the fat, doesn't see how the extra weight adds a level of appeal, the way her larger frame presses and fills out her clothes.

Kinda sexy.

"Stop fidgeting." Dropping my voice to an- I hope -sexy husk, dropping her a playful exaggerated wink. "You look hot, I'd fuck you."
"Stop that." Laughing, blushing but she plays along. Hands on hips and chest thrust out, legs spread. "I mean, who wouldn't."
"Only fools."
"And you're too sexy to be a fool."
"Why," thrusting out my own chest, striking a pose, "thank you. Fair lady."

And like that we're both laughing, and Sarah isn't fidgeting, so. Chalk up a win.

"What. Um." Not sure if it's the playful mood, or the rush and slop of something tingling in the pit of me, from wearing so little, from noticing- because of the game -Sarah wearing so little. But.

"What time is dinner?"
"Couple of hours," shrugging, adjusting her top but not the upset fidget of moments ago, "wh-...." Looking up, seeing my too wide grin.

"No." Finger up like a warning, like that ever stopped anyone. "My parents are home."
"So." Already at the drawer, scrabbling around for Sarah's hidden box, her share of our growing bondage stash. "I'll gag you."
"But." Turning and I see the shiver run through her, notice Sarah's nipples, suddenly pressing visibly against the thin top. Excitement spiking. "I'm wearing a bikini."
"Which I'm going to tie you up in."
"Well." Another shiver, which sets mine off, feeling my own nipples harden.

"Okay." Looking around. "To the bed. Um." Nodding. "And if they do come, then, um." Quick smile. "Just throw the duvet over me."
"Sure." Not caring about details, I just want to play.

And we haven't been playing long enough by this point to all have a stash of rope. Sarah has washing line cord, plastic coated in green and made slightly ridged by the fact. Harsh stuff, solid and unyielding compared to scarves or rope. The cord digs into skin, guaranteed to leave marks.

Abbey hates it, won't touch it. Charley only let's it if she's long sleeved in a hoodie and jeans, so no skin contact. Me, it depends, like a split second yes/no tipping, if in the mood I find the solidness and higher discomfort adds an extra level to my helplessness.

But Sarah loves the cord, enjoys it.

Duvet off, and pillows. Sarah lays down along the length of her metal framed bed, a strange design no foot or headboard just four legs and a sprung base for the mattress.

"Yes?"
"Yes." Swallowing, nerves and a glance at the closed door. But nodding as I hold up the cord. I nod back, get to the bondage whilst Sarah lays still, failing to control her quickened breath, chest and belly rising falling, occasional fidgeting of hands and feet as I work.

The cord is one incredibly long piece, some kind of metal centre surrounded by twine or string or something, the whole incased in plastic and we physically can't cut it.

We've tried, just at the tip and no. Another reason Abbey hates it and Charley's understandably wary.

Measuring off about a metre, adding more for luck, I kneel down by Sarah's feet, leaning in. Starting from that point with the measured slack dangling I wrap twice around her ankles, legs pinned side by side, making a knot and tugging, yanking the two loops around her tight.

Knowing if I don't she'll complain, knowing Sarah wants this harsh cord tight, biting in. That she enjoys it the same way I know I enjoy the humiliation aspect, of being watched whilst helplessly bound and gagged.

Breath catching but I don't stop, because I know she's okay. Quickly I wrap again, and tie a knot, a third wrap followed by a double knot, each wrapped loop of her thick ankles, each knot preventing the bindings from coming loose. Pinning the whole thing together, removing the ability to slacken off.

Forth wrap and a final double knot, leaving just enough cord left.

Just enough that, having painstakingly fed the whole long length of the remaining cord through between her ankles, three wrapped loops pulled tight, I bind the last of that short end off to the whole, sealing her ankles completely.

Then, laying down I wriggle and shuffle along and around on Sarah's carpet, feeding the cord underneath her bed, bringing it from feet upwards until I'm able to stand up, leaning over Sarah's head to drag the cord up through the gap between frame and the first set of sprung struts on the base.

E cups dangling, my bikini aided cleavage right over Sarah, directly in her vision.

And, I don't realise until close to the end, because we've none of us tied, or been tied up wearing less then proper clothes. Until today.

Up onto the bed, straddling Sarah's chest, my crotch nestled up against her breasts butt sat cushioned by her belly. Legs splayed either side knees bent. Sarah, feet nowhere near the bed bottom reaches her arms upwards, wrists together. Being good, her hands similarly, finger tips a long way from brushing the metal frame.

Leaning down and forward I reach out, taking the cord end, still a fair length left and beginning to wrap her wrists, crossing them for greater tightness. I decide. Passing the cord around and between, wrap then knot as with her ankles. Pulling tight and trying to maintain that tightness whilst quickly wrapping and knotting again.

And that first wrapped loop, that initial yank and tie off on her wrists is what reels in Sarah's ankles, pulling her already laid flat legs down and out. Removing the slack and pinning her body into a straight and forced line, limbs now locked off against each other, tugging her arms will only yank at the ankle ropes and vice versa.

Wrapping and yanking and knotting and all the while Sarah's breath coming fast and high, catching occasionally. Sinking down.

And it's now, close to finishing that I realise. Leaning in some more, closer to inspect my work I feel, belatedly having been somewhat lost myself to it all. Suddenly I'm aware of my breasts, puddled and plastered to Sarah's face. I've unknowingly spent the last ten plus minutes semi suffocating her with my cleavage. Unintentionally, and both of us too far gone to notice.

To consider the wider implications or dynamic behind my looming and sitting on bound and helpless Sarah. Sort of, kind of feeding her my breasts.

What it could look like from a certain angle.

Suddenly embarrassed, blushing as I feel her breath hot on my left breast I quickly tie off the final part of cord.

Stand, looking down and seeing Sarah, eyes dreamy body shifting and stretching inside the tight bondage. Not even tracking my movement, not speaking. Too gone to notice.

And what might she of done I wonder, chasing a shiver and a tingle as I imagine her kissing my cleavage. Banishing the thought, turning away so I can't add fuel by noticing how helpless she is.

That I could kiss her instead and.

No.

We don't do that. And just to prove how normal everything is, that I'm not thinking and wondering about kissing and breasts, I gag Sarah. Leaning in purposefully close to do so, making sure to brush my breasts across her belly whilst feeding a scarf through on each side, between her head and forcibly raised arms. Sarah's mouth opening almost on reflex to take the gag, which I knot.

Standing again.

Leaving her to it, Sarah's eyes closed now anyway, enjoying herself and I wonder, dressing, shrugging my blue vest top and black leggings on over the bikini. I wonder where her mind is, how it feels to be bound wearing so little?

Vowing to try it myself at the next opportunity, unwilling to free her early though and insist on a turn now. Since cutting Sarah's own fun short would be unfair.

And later, over dinner nobody passes comment on her wearing a hoodie despite the rest of us in short sleeves or less. Covering her marks of course, the deep bite of the cord.

And later still, seeing me out Sarah passing no comment regarding my breasts being all over her face, looking nonplussed at my semi hints, frowning like she's not sure what I'm getting at so.

She doesn't remember, which is likely for the best.

[Bandit666]

Well as you said not underwear but damned near and a fun chapter none the less this is turning into a great read thanks @RopeBunny

[BlissfulMisery]

after all, if she did, learn to be more careful regarding bondage. There wouldn't be much of a story

Very true

Possibly my own disappointment leaking through. Or knowledge of the pivot, could've gone into unreal territory at this point (and possibly will in future, after all I frequently do ) but at this point, in this chapter I'm opting for 'real world' logic.

Figured as much! And of course 'boring' reality/realism has a way of ruining everything

-

Not seeing what I see and we rarely do, most don't see themselves in the best of lights.

Quite true/words to live by.

Leaning down and forward I reach out, taking the cord end, still a fair length left and beginning to wrap her wrists, crossing them for greater tightness. I decide. Passing the cord around and between, wrap then knot as with her ankles.

Might be intentional, but feels like there should be a comma instead of a period before 'I decide'. A very abrupt/jarring stop otherwise.

And what might she of done I wonder

Should be 'have done' instead of 'of done'.

And just to prove how normal everything is, that I'm not thinking and wondering about kissing and breasts, I gag Sarah.

Ahh yes, perfectly normal - it is a bondage story after all

Fun little interlude - at the end of the day this is a TUGs story after all.

Although I find it interesting how in this story the bondage does seem a little more disconnected from 'the main plot'. Not a criticism, or even a serious point, just a vague feeling/thought I have had while following along.

Enjoyed the read and as always, interested to see more!

[RopeBunny]

Although I find it interesting how in this story the bondage does seem a little more disconnected from 'the main plot'. Not a criticism, or even a serious point, just a vague feeling/thought I have had while following along.

Purposefully done. What I'm attempting is to highlight the stark differences between Jane's normal life: friends and bondage and school, and the darkness within. And granted so far it's been more normal then darkness, but that has as much to do with this being a TUGs site then anything else.

You'd all far rather read about Jane getting bound and gagged then battling her apparent destiny no doubt

Well as you said not underwear but damned near

Damned near indeed and no doubt there shall be more underwear/bikini/general lack of clothes occasions to follow.

Next chapter below, apologies regarding the wait this one took forever to edit.

(Usually I write up a relatively quick draft of a chapter, go back in and change things up before going back in a final time, tidying and checking and sorting.)

Due partly to being busy and partly to the length, partly due to how much I changed of the bondage, this one took extra long to finish.

[RopeBunny]

005.

Should've known it wouldn't last, curiosity, despite killing the cat people still want to know.

But first, before everything unwinds.

Sarah and Abbey have a deal: Abbey shows willing by attending Sarah's one evening a week art class at the local college, doing her best, slowly improving.

Her apple actually looks like an apple now, not a green orange.

In return Sarah attends football practice, a sport Abbey admittedly only does herself by way of sibling rivalry. But she- Abbey -grew to enjoy it, and Sarah, the new recruit is proving surprisingly competent in goal, somewhat fearless, stalking forwards to punch the oncoming ball away, diving for repeated saves.

Charley and me aren't being purposefully shut out, the two way dynamic in no way affects the four way friendship we've established. And oftentimes we're individually busy those evenings anyway, Charley practices golf at least three times a week, she's that committed. She's that good.

But, today, after school is a football day, and.

"Want to hang out at mine?"
"Sure." I don't invite the girls to mine. It isn't a space issue, as an only child my bedroom is on par with my parents. I've even got a double bed. It's the atmosphere, my parents are very, really hands off with me. They don't care, so long as I don't bring the police to the door, don't make excessive noise, don't get in the way.

No noise, and don't get in the way reads basically as: be invisible, so no guests.

"We could work on that English," shaking and drawing random shapes with one hand, frowning, "book."
"House of Leaves." I smile, but Charley's frown is understandable. Despite having only just begun we've all cheated, flicking through. And.

Fuck.

Towards the end, words arranged in all kinds of crazy ways, across and around the page. And the repeated asides, story within and layering story, the continued explanations. It only gets worse. The book is, will be a challenge, but I'm finding it enjoyable, feeling myself sucked in by Navidson and his bizarre house.

We've got a paper due next week, initial thoughts on the format, the branching and wandering, rambling narrative. If we make a start no doubt Abbey and Sarah will be grateful, for whatever scribbled notes and thoughts we two can put together.

Back to Charley's then, an empty house her mum works shifts, four days a week, late start and late- close to midnight -finish.

"Stay for dinner?" Opening the freezer, the fridge mounted above, pulling drawers and checking boxes, containers. Brushing black curls out of her face and turning to me, the question in her eyes and tone. "I could do omelette on toast?"
"Sounds great, but," but I have promised, myself, "I'll have to be gone after."
"Got a hot date huh?" Smiling, wider as I refuse to rise to the- misinformed -bait.

Not a date, no.

We go up to Charley's room, shoes and jackets and bags shed either by the door or in the kitchen, me following on autopilot and it isn't until she's routed out half her rope supply that I realise.

"Oh."
"You don't mind?"
"Course not." Smiling, suppressing a shiver, "we aren't studying though?"
"We can still study."
"Right." Small nod. "So, I'm tying you up, and then study?" Feeling out the idea, imagery of the set-up landing. Smile growing: Charley, bound to a chair whilst I sit opposite, talking through the book.

And maybe I'll gag her, if she makes one too many stupid observations or comments?

"Nope." Crossing her bedroom, seeming to walk through the image, dispelling it like smoke as she approaches me, rope in hand and a- somewhat cheeky -smile of her own. "I'm binding you."

Already snagging my wrists, pulling them together as she steps behind me and.

"Hold on." Shaking free and reaching up to remove my tie, opening the school shirt at the top. Better.

Stepping back in, close, and offering my wrists.

"Going to," pausing, to concentrate, pinch of skin as roped loops are pulled tight and I involuntarily flinch, "sorry."
"S' good." Pushing out a breath. "Tight is always good."
"Good." Small tug at my wrists, Charley playfully pulling on the rope, on my bindings. Tight is always good, like the group mantra, our joint opinion on matters bondage.

"Going to try some new things." Another loop, more tugging and pinching. Working. "Mix things up and shit." Feel of her leaning in, Charley's body pressed close, chest on my arm, pressure of her D cups being forced to either side of my limb. Her face coming into view over my shoulder. "That okay?"
"I." Should ask what? Should discuss this? "Sure."

I trust her, all of them.

"Carry on."
"I will." Like a throwaway, casual as she finishes off my wrists, final loops passing between to pinch everything properly tight.

Tight is always good.

But unexpectedly there's rope, coarse and sliding, constricting around my upper arms just north of the elbows. Rough texture across skin as the school shirt is short sleeved.

"Um." Losing the fight not to squirm, peering over my shoulder. "Charley?"
"Jane?" Voice all innocence, almost mocking my nervous tone and she's smiling to match. Pulling on the looped rope as I watch.

Upper arms, like magnets coming together elbows connecting with a thud I feel, the tightening of limbs here unexpectedly causing my chest to thrust forward. Breath catching, words failing. Shocked numbness as Charley wraps and pulls and winds, finishing the elbow tie, pinning them together.

Finding myself overwhelmed by the newness of this double roped lock to my arms, losing focus. Only aware of Charley completing the hogtie in snatches, flashed sensation as though submarine like I'm resurfacing to check on the enemy.

Binding my chest, up from the armpit and around behind the neck, back down and under the opposite side having already bracketed my E cups. The whole serving to further pin my arms, to squeeze.

Laying on Charley's bed. How did I get there? Legs already pinned together at the ankle, feeling a fresh coarse rubbing above the knee, rope on bare skin.

Tight is always good.

Strange- not new but always strange -puppet like feeling as Charley, behind me, grunts. Reeling in her fed rope, which like a system of pulleys begins raising my ankles off the bed, forcing legs to bend up and back. Tugging at elbows, the loop point and we've played hogtie before.

But she's going further.

Trying new things.

Ankles to elbows is a first, new. And used to the position, the way legs bend and arms are tugged back it catches me completely by surprise when everything instead becomes several degrees tighter. Stricter. Connecting to the elbows clearly allows Charley to force my body into a more pronounced, harsher arch, chest and shoulders lifting off the bed along with my knees. The position bringing out a long low moan.

Body yanked and tugged as Charley seals me in, suddenly slightly looser only to equally suddenly be pulled back. Reaching out, wriggling fingers and finding my calves within easy reach. Legs and arms almost touching.

Pushed onto my side, tipping and alarmed at my complete lack of control, unable to prevent the roll I gasp. Squirm, and wriggle finding no give to the ropes, the realisation making me flush hot, tingles like fire chasing all across me.

Total helplessness, which is fucking awesome and-

"What're you...." Squirming and trying to blink myself back to something like reality, because Charley, having climbed up onto her narrow bed beside me is now kneeling. Leaning in and-

"Charley?" Voice coming out high and warped. Embarrassed, surprised and blood rushing to my chest, heat climbing to colour my cheeks as Charley finishes opening my shirt. "What are y...."
"New things." Dropping me a wink and not stopping. Taking more advantage of me then we've ever done before. Hands working, pulling and tucking the shirt back, pinning it under the chest ropes, completely exposing my white and grey lace bra. E cups heaving within, appearing barely contained as I fight to control breathing cranked fast through panic and shock.

"New things." Hands in her lap and smiling, at me. "Remember?"
"I." Swallowing, and she's seen my bra before. We've all gotten changed- down to bra and pants at least -in front of each other since I had B cups, but this is worlds away, forcibly exposed whilst bound.

And looking up I see Charley bite her lip, nervous and possibly worrying she's overstepped the mark. Taking what happened to Abbey and me, what we all vowed to attempt again: pushing boundaries.

Now scared she's pushed too far, maybe.

"I remember." Breathing somewhere closer to normal, and I don't hate it, that tingle kicking in and spreading is embarrassment based, and I do kinda like that.

So, not hate, just, unexpected.

"Okay." Finding a smile for her, a nod. Understanding and a green light. "Okay."
"Good." Flopping down beside me with an audible sigh of relief, but in the narrow mattress space available, the amount of it my own hogtied- laid on my side legs behind me -body is taking up, there isn't much left, she's perched right on the edge, and with the wall behind me, feeling the coldness of it pressed to my shoulders and legs. I can't move, can't give any ground.

Charley, fidgeting in the small space left to her, clearly uncomfortable and in danger of falling. Shifting, pressing into me and a quick glance, at me. Something like an idea on her face.

Burrowing her hand under my shoulder, lifting, shifting herself closer and pulling me into a cuddle of sorts. My head resting on her shoulder, faces almost touching whilst my cleavage and bra clad E cups press and war against her tight shirt clad D's.

Warmth of her against me, I stretch, the low content sounding moan escaping before I can stop it. A cat, comfortable despite the super tight hogtie.

"Happy are we?"
"Yes." Voice small compared to Charley's amused tone so I cough. Take a breath and try again. Aiming for humour.

"At least I wore a nice bra."
"Definitely." Reaching out with the hand not pinned beneath me, being bold, casually running a trailing finger down one breast across skin and lace.

Laughing as I- couldn't stop the reaction if I'd tried -stretch into the attention, low cat like moan, again.

So Charley does it again. And again. Teasing, playing. Hugging me close whilst stroking up and down, across and around the shape of my breasts. Never inside the bra, and never close to nipples that have fast become rock like.

Smiling at the reactions her attentions are causing: squirming and stretching, thrusting my chest at her, pressing closer. Moaning, mostly right in her ear whilst time slips away, ceasing to have any meaning. Locked into the cycle, Charley, having her way.

Pushing boundaries, which we all wanted and.

Tight is always good.

Tight, far too well bound to escape and why the fuck would I want to?

We talk, though I've no recollection afterwards about what, certainly not the book most likely it's nonsense stuff: daydreams shared, music and shows. There are times her hand simply rests, below or beside my chest, once loosely cupping it.

The kissing, I remember, a thing I can still taste, hours later when I see Charley again her eyes wide, staring out at the field and a me she clearly doesn't recognise anymore.

But on the bed, lost to the stroking, chest and her other hand now up under my open shirt, at the back. Tracing random patterns. And given everything the kiss was inevitable, really. Too much, Charley's playful and teasing attentions were always going to lead to something more.

Leaning in, a stretch going further, planting small kisses along her neck and a flood of warmth as I hear Charley moan, a low echo of my own voiced feelings. As her head tilts, coming around to face me and our eyes meet, and with a shift and a groan of springs her whole body is shifting too, following. Bringing us belly to belly, Charley pressed up to me, breasts squashing breasts.

Reaching up, free hand brushing black hair out of her face, tucking it away. Running that same hand through my blonde curls as her leg shifts, sliding up and over, draped and resting on my own hogtie locked limbs.

Kissing and the moment, the world seems to pause. Long and slow, wet. Feeling her tongue quest tentatively out, sliding out my own to meet it. Touch it. Lips locked and working in harmony.

Straining at the ropes in that moment, desperate, and for the duration of the contact nothing else matters, and everything feels right. Perfect.

"Um...."
"Did you...." Mean to do that? Because I'm not mad, am in fact floating and given the look on Charley's face she's up here with me. But, curious, did Charley expose my bra, tease me with a view to this occurring?

"No." Licking her lips and we're both still so close, bare inches apart me still laying in Charley's embrace. "I." Swallowing, grinning at me and I want to kiss her again. Almost do. "You and Abbey, your story." Looking down at us both. "I wanted to mix it up too, but different. And...."

A wave of her hand through the air, blowing out a breath.

Certainly different. Abbey and me, yes our lips were locked, pinned together but we never actually, properly kissed. Accidentally, several times, but never with the genuine intent Charley and me just shared.

That I think, that it felt like we just shared?

"Are you okay?"
"Yes." The question, despite answering in the affirmative still brings on a stretch, a struggle. Wriggling. Getting comfortable in impossible circumstances. Chest pushed into Charley.

Unintentional, honest.

"I'm okay. S' tight." I grin. "Really fucking tight. But."
"But you're a little bondage trooper." Bopping me playfully on the nose. "And you love it."
"Well." Grin surfacing. "Yes."

"Can I." Giving me a quick smile, looking suddenly nervous. "Keep you awhile longer?"
"Like this?" Hogtied. Cuddled. Exposed, sort of. Looking the question at Charley, who nods, giving me another not nervous but she apparently is quick smile. "Sure."
"Brilliant. But. Um, gagged?"
"Carry on then."

Kissing me before I can react, pulling back with a blush climbing her neck and cheeks Charley rolls deftly off her bed, crossing the room and returning with a long white smooth woolen scarf. Which she manages to wrap three times around my head, scarf buried in my willingly opened mouth on the first and second pass, plastered over the top and covering my lips on the third.

Taking a deep breath, shiver chasing through her followed by a nod. A decision made, happy with what she sees. Me, now gagged, waiting for her E cups like an open invitation and I slow blink, content.

And Charley smiles, coming back, returning to the original positioning: one arm hooked under and around, resting on the small of my back, idly stroking whilst pinning me against her, on my side. Head resting on her shoulder gagged moans right in her ear.

And for the second time, time ceases to hold any significance. Charley's free hand resting sometimes on her belly, sometimes stroking my bra, sometimes resting on her forehead or the pillow above us. My moaning comes and goes, likewise my wriggling attempts to ease tension from a body locked up. Tingles and heat eb and flow through me, waves of sensation.

Occasionally Charley looks at me but mostly, when my own are open she's staring at the ceiling.

Smiling.

"You'll have to bind me." Occasional words, rare and spaced throughout. Looking at me and there's something in her eyes. "Tease." Running a hand down across my breast to emphasise her point. "Me."
"Fffmmmnnnsssrrrrrrgggggg." Yes, stretching to nuzzle her neck with my gagged lips. I'd like that.

Eventually Charley let's me go, and whilst I'm in the bathroom, cleaning up and putting my shirt back together she changes. Meeting me downstairs dressed in a pale blue 'Calloway' tracksuit, logo written in white up the left leg, across the back. The top is unzipped, hanging open to reveal a skimpy cut off black top with thin straps. Braless, the material moulded to the slope of her large chest, hanging off at the bottom.

Fucking tease.

Charley cooks whilst I go through the book, scribbling notes as we exchange ideas, theories. Trying to come up with the bare bones of a paper and apparently not talking about what we just did. What she, mostly given I was tightly hogtied and helpless, did.

And if she isn't going to mention it I'm sure as fuck not.

And after dinner I leave, messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a slightly awkward feeling hug at the door.

Probably should've talked about it.

But I smile, stepping back and tipping Charley a salute, and as she's closing the door. Fuck it.

"I had fun."
"What?" Stepping forward, banging her leg as the closing door catches on it. "Well," half smile replacing a fleeting look as though she's only now realising we could've, maybe, continued. Giving me back the salute. "Me too."
"Night."
"Night."

Walking away, and I am not in the mood for this, but. It's been too long. Too, long. So.

Deep breath.

Courage.

There are holes, more then you'd be happy at the existence of. Hidden, waiting for the unwary to stumble and fall. Halfway home I go left, not right, and almost an hour later, under cover of darkness and not without some effort, a couple of choice cursewords, I climb over the wooden boundary fence, dropping down beside railway tracks glinting in the occasional moonlight. Tinted green further up by the glow of a signal.

Twenty minutes later, having had to duck twice to avoid being seen by passing passenger stock, a single lumbering roaring freight, I arrive at the old tumbled down trackside gang hut. No roof and half of one wall gone, just a frame with no door except there is a door on the back wall. Latched but not locked, leading, you'd think to a tiny cupboard but instead opening onto muted semi darkness.

The Never Sunset.

Through which I walk, following the now familiar path, to the field. Where I stand, and stare, trying not to shiver, trying to keep my breathing level, even.

Hearing sudden indrawn breath behind me, spinning fast, senses and muscles already cranked too high and too tight, half expecting something.

Totally unprepared for the sight of Charley, staring at me, over my shoulder at the field beyond. Mouth dropped.

Fuck.

[BlissfulMisery]

Purposefully done. What I'm attempting is to highlight the stark differences between Jane's normal life: friends and bondage and school, and the darkness within. And granted so far it's been more normal then darkness, but that has as much to do with this being a TUGs site then anything else.

You'd all far rather read about Jane getting bound and gagged then battling her apparent destiny no doubt

Well the thing about destiny and fictional characters is it has a way of catching up with them...

And of course, the never ending balancing act inherent to these stories.

-

Tight is always good, like the group mantra, our joint opinion on matters bondage.

Not wrong... and it certainly does turn into a mantra through the rest of the chapter

Trying to come up with the bare bones of a paper and apparently not talking about what we just did. What she, mostly given I was tightly hogtied and helpless, did.

And if she isn't going to mention it I'm sure as fuck not.

And after dinner I leave, messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a slightly awkward feeling hug at the door.

Probably should've talked about it.

Probably. But certainly understandable why they do not. It is a great scene, raw and emotional, immersive, one thing flowing seamlessly into the next. Does a great job of getting the (I assume intended) mix of uncertainty, hesitation, and curiosity/exploration across.

The Never Sunset.

Through which I walk, following the now familiar path, to the field. Where I stand, and stare, trying not to shiver, trying to keep my breathing level, even.

Hearing sudden indrawn breath behind me, spinning fast, senses and muscles already cranked too high and too tight, half expecting something.

Totally unprepared for the sight of Charley, staring at me, over my shoulder at the field beyond. Mouth dropped.

Fuck.

Oops?

Well of all the ways to discover your friend is co-existing with an otherworldly entity, this is probably one of the more benign ones

And speaking of what you mentioned earlier with having the distinction between 'normal' and 'the darkness'... seems like that dividing line is likely to become blurrier going forwards...

[TightsBound]

This might have been the most beautiful chapter I’ve read from you. The words just, flowed. It had the usual tight ties, teasing and hotness, but you also managed to take it deeper.

And way to bring up House of Leaves! The book really messed with my sleep. I’m still it sure if I read it completely or not, but I guess that was part of the point.

[RopeBunny]

Tight is always good, like the group mantra, our joint opinion on matters bondage.

Not wrong... and it certainly does turn into a mantra through the rest of the chapter

Purposefully. And whilst I might say 'tight is good' again, somewhere else within the story, I doubt it'll be as often repeated.

But it worked, I thought. This time.

And speaking of what you mentioned earlier with having the distinction between 'normal' and 'the darkness'... seems like that dividing line is likely to become blurrier going forwards...

Had enough chapters to introduce things, so yes, time to move it all forward.

And way to bring up House of Leaves! The book really messed with my sleep. I’m still it sure if I read it completely or not, but I guess that was part of the point.

Thank you, for the comment I'm so glad you liked the chapter, I enjoyed writing this one, the unplanned slide from a teasing game into something more

And, brilliant to hear I'm not the only confused soul post read
Such an amazing book and one I'd throughly recommend, but it does mess with you in all kinds of ways. And like you I doubt I've read every single word.

[RopeBunny]

006.

"Jane...." Like a lost little girl. Like she doesn't know me, eyes wide and head shaking, slightly but constantly in denial at what's before her. Struggling to comprehend, failing.

The impossible sight.

"What...."

The Never Sunset. A realm not found on any known map, the whole forever cloaked in near darkness, fat red sun sat permanently low on the horizon. All here is shadow, looming distant shapes nothing properly visible without close proximity. Blackened trees reaching skywards whilst ruins scatter the landscape.

Everything smoking like the aftermath of a war.

Behind me and off to one side as I face Charley squats a castle, the seat of power. Empty, because of me. Rising off the peak of a steep rocky outcrop and only accessible by a single winding path, dark weathered stone on the outer walls and keep, battlements hung with tattered banners in reds and blacks and whites, adorned with symbols that hurt the eye.

Directly behind me though, snaring Charley's attention far more then either the castle or the whole smoking mess of Livyatan's- my -realm, is a vast field, upon which.

The Forgotten Legion.

The one exception, the one place where, thanks to evenly spaced torches, tripod bases and fire burning eternal in soot stained metal bowls. On the field you can see perfectly. Whether you wanted to or not.

An army of the dead. Tens of hundreds of thousands, a vast thing, row upon rank upon column of ghosts, the whole spectral mass utterly still.

Creepy. As. Fuck.

Figures cloaked in dark shades, blues and greens and blacks, out of which folds skeletal limbs emerge, wreathed in eldritch fire. Faces hooded or covered by helms, axes and pole arms, scythes, swords gripped or sheathed. Cavalry, a good third of which are winged. Towards the back a whole battalion of ancient looking tanks, hulls appearing to dance in those shimmering otherworldly flames.

Across the whole field nothing moves, no sound emerging beyond a low howling wind.

And, here's the thing. If I may?

Thanks.

People, some people wonder about the end times. The apocalypse, they wonder about the how.

World War three, possibly. Nuclear fallout and smoke, enough crap blasted or thrown up into the sky to blot out the sun, causing eternal winter. All because one of the fools in change says 'go' and so, inevitably all the other fools have no choice but to follow suit. And we all die.

Or, asteroid impact. A slim chance is still a chance, that long overdue planet killer arrives, striking our small rock. And we all die.

No.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong, wrong.

It's me. I'm the apocalypse, I'm the world ender. The answer to the unthinkable question.

If I pick up that sword.

Because: in the hospital at the moment of joining, Livyatan pouring into me, healing, fixing. Becoming trapped. Power and knowledge, I'd been promised, but offered the chance, feeling the whole of everything leak across the rapidly sealing divide between where Livyatan ends and I begin. No. A blunt and sudden refusal, barriers thrown up.

It's all mine: power, knowledge, the blade and the Legion. Everything Livyatan is, willingly given in trade for saving me, the darkness reduced to passive observer, able to talk but only to me, only inside my own head. I could access the power anytime, easy as blinking.

Just say yes.

But, once the barrier is lowered a second time it stays down, I can't put Pandora back in the box.

And I don't have to pick up the sword to access the power, but doing so would make my intentions pretty fucking clear, so.

Western Sorrow in the Rain: three feet of gunmetal near black blade wrapped in runes and symbols, almost a foot of grip and pommel. At the head of the field it hangs, suspended within a ball of flickering pale blue witchflame which itself rises out of a black stone plinth, the flames deadly to anything bar Livyatan. Now me.

And I know. Know, the Legion can't walk without orders. From Livyatan. Me, and I know. Know, only Livyatan, I, can free the blade. But.

But.

I still feel compelled to return, often, and make sure.

"Where...." Charley, who followed me here, the railway hut being a rare permanent link. Always open unlike most: holes, doors and hidden passageways, actual holes. Mostly this stuff is closed, dormant, only accessible or usable at certain times, under certain conditions.

"I...."
"Charley." Taking a step forward, my voice snapping her out of the apparent trance, eyes jerked away from the field, seeing me.

"Jane?"
"Yes." Doesn't feel good having the Legion behind me, like an itch in my head, like I know they can't, won't, but inside a voice is screaming the fact: that they're moving, closing in. On me. But I turn anyway, forcing my attention onto Charley and what the fuck do I do about Charley?

"Listen, Charley...." Starting without any clue how I'm going to continue, what should I say? How much do I tell her?

Got to tell her something, got to- somehow -explain what she's seeing.

"I followed you." Talking into my silence, taking a step forward. "And...." And Charley's voice drying up too, can hardly blame her, what could she possibly say?

"Where," stopping to look left, right, a shiver passing through her, "the fuck are we, Jane?"
"The Never Suns-"

Charley's scream cutting through my words as ethereal pink tentacles erupt Kraken like from the floor all around her. Wrapping, capturing and in seconds she's rendered helpless. Mummified by the criss-crossing tendrils, only slices of skin or clothing peeking through, D cups bulging where they've been squeezed top and bottom.

Scream cut off as a thick tentacle forces its way down her throat, eyes wide, lifted struggling and writhing into the air. Suspended.

Leftover magics. Because there was a war here, long ago and in the aftermath of victory not all the weapons were stood down, and anytime now it's going to take Charley and....

Unless I....

"You." Stalking forwards, driven by anger enough to tamp down the fear because I'm not Livyatan. Not yet, but in some ways I am. And these things are of this- Livyatan's, my -realm. So.

"You will. Cease." Stopping, within striking distance, jabbing a finger, anger in my voice. Command. "I am Livyatan. 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. And I command you to stop, to release this girl, to be on your way. Elsewhere."

I am not opening the box I am not opening the box and I can feel Charley's eyes on me and the Kraken things regard on me like slithering across my skin and I am not opening the box but you will hear me and obey because I am Livyatan or at least I will might be someday so.

Slowly, you could almost say cautiously a fresh tentacle rises from the dark earth and I stand very still, fighting down all sorts of urges whilst it slowly approaches. Staying still whilst it glides- almost caresses -me, up one leg, running across my breasts.

Brief pressure like a threat around my neck.

The tip, pressing against my lips and, listening to that deep menace inside, suppressing a shiver by force of will I open wide. Somehow managing not to gag or scream as the tentacle slithers between my parted lips, questing down, down. Testing me, seeking proof.

Withdrawing, not just from me but Charley too, and fast. Something like fear to be read in the speed of departure, as though scared having discovered the secret lurking within me. The truth, the weight behind my words.

"Are you okay?"
"Am I...." Backing off, her retreat mirroring my advance so I stop, hands by my side palms facing her, fingers spread. See, no threat.

"What the actual fuck." Shouting. "Jane. Or." Staring at me, shaking her head. "Whatever the fuck you are. That," brief crazy sounding barked laugh, "name. This place."
"Please. Charley." Trying to keep my own voice even. "Everything's okay now it-"
"-Okay?" Another barked laugh, a shiver. "A pink octopus just came out of the fucking ground and tried to eat me. Jane. How the fuck is everything okay?"

And the silence opens up, because I've got nothing. What could I possibly say, jacked up as she is, how could I explain any of this?

"I." Shaking her head, voice gone slightly calmer. "I think you. Helped, me?" Nodding at my nod, small smile skating across her face. "But, I can't. Jane. Not now. Yet. I'm." Backing away from me and I let her go, it's a straight path out and.

"Come with me."
"What?" She's stopped, taking a couple of steps back towards me, hand out. Reaching.

"We can escape," shaking her offered hand slightly, "together. This place is...."
"I can't." Shaking my head. I can't, leave. Because?

I have to stay here and stare at the sword some more, all deep and meaningful like some kind of fucking tragic hero, the nonsense thought causing a smile. Charley, seeing and she can't possibly understand, isn't, by her own admission, ready to even try. Yet.

Shaking her head, leaving.

I'll give her space. Time.

And hope she wants, eventually, to talk, and doesn't ruin me instead.

[BlissfulMisery]

Purposefully. And whilst I might say 'tight is good' again, somewhere else within the story, I doubt it'll be as often repeated.

But it worked, I thought. This time.

I assumed as much - too obvious to be an accident, and repetition of this sort is a valuable writing tool when applied in the right circumstances. And it did work quite well.

-

or the whole smoking mess of Livyatan's- my -realm,

And I know. Know, the Legion can't walk without orders. From Livyatan. Me, and I know. Know, only Livyatan, I, can free the blade. But.

Ahh the problem with merging with dark entities - it tending to blur the lines of self-identity

In more seriousness, it is not an uncommon concept in fiction (two consciousnesses merging/sharing a body), although I suspect in reality it would be quite the unsettling/terrifying experience regardless of whoever you might be stuck with. Tends to take all of us quite a while to get a handle on existing in our own heads/being at the helm of our bodies. Now imagine having to learn to share the proverbial steering wheel, and to also have to share the place that is normally entirely your own private space - like having the worst kind of roommate, really

Across the whole field nothing moves, no sound emerging beyond a low howling wind.

And, here's the thing. If I may?

Thanks.

People, some people wonder about the end times. The apocalypse, they wonder about the how.

Not that it is is uncommon for you to skirt along the edges of such, but I like the fourth wall break here.

And I know. Know, the Legion can't walk without orders. From Livyatan. Me, and I know. Know, only Livyatan, I, can free the blade. But.

But.

I still feel compelled to return, often, and make sure.

"Yes." Doesn't feel good having the Legion behind me, like an itch in my head, like I know they can't, won't, but inside a voice is screaming the fact: that they're moving, closing in. On me. But I turn anyway, forcing my attention onto Charley and what the fuck do I do about Charley?

Paranoia - not the best sign for Jane's mental health, not that I can blame her, given the circumstances/what she knows. Knowledge can be a real burden sometimes, especially when the outcome either is or seems unpreventable/inevitable.

The tip, pressing against my lips and, listening to that deep menace inside, suppressing a shiver by force of will I open wide. Somehow managing not to gag or scream as the tentacle slithers between my parted lips, questing down, down. Testing me, seeking proof.

Well that is a novel way to give identification


Poor Jane and Charley. Both of them stumbling into (literally in the case of Charley) things that they are not properly equipped to deal with.

But unfortunately for Jane (and she is painfully aware of this), she cannot just walk away from the situation...

[RopeBunny]

Across the whole field nothing moves, no sound emerging beyond a low howling wind.

And, here's the thing. If I may?

Thanks.

People, some people wonder about the end times. The apocalypse, they wonder about the how.

Not that it is is uncommon for you to skirt along the edges of such, but I like the fourth wall break here.

A late addition that one, had it written differently until the final edit. Am pleased with the end result, glad to find someone else is too

But unfortunately for Jane (and she is painfully aware of this), she cannot just walk away from the situation...

Poor Jane indeed, things are starting to get moving, starting to happen.

Things, as you say, that she can't simply walk away from.

[RopeBunny]

007.

"Jane."
"Charley." At school the following day and I'm surprised she remained at the gates, waiting. Having seen it was me approaching and not either of the other two. Bad enough the unresolved awkwardness of what happened on her bed, now somewhat swamped and eclipsed by the sheer strangeness and no doubt terror at having followed me into the Never Sunset.

I'm surprised she didn't run, from me, possibly screaming.

"I...."
"S' okay." Reaching out, desperately wanting contact but stopping myself, fearful of making Charley flinch. "Whenever you're ready." Finding an easy shrug. "You've only just seen, I've had months to get used to it all. So."
"Months?" Staring at me, reaching out herself, stopping herself as I did. Shaking her head. Disbelief and confusion.

At which point Abbey arrives, Sarah close on her heels and life, the onward flow of school and homework and food and sleep, normality seeps back into the world, scooping us all up and spinning us around.

The awkwardness of it all sits between us though, a distance and shift in the two way Charley-Jane dynamic apparently too subtle for the other two to notice. But I notice. She laughs a little too hard, to easily sometimes, at my sometimes rather too forced attempts at humour. Nor does Charley stand next to me, unless it happens to be only us two, as in Geography, where she twitches occasionally as though expecting an attack.

None of which I mention. I give space, time as promised, her friendship means that much.

The onward flow and march of life, lived. And then.

"I haven't been tied up in fucking weeks." Sarah, huffing and properly upset but I can't help laughing back. At the seriousness in her voice and all over a forbidden taboo- guess it is though none of us care -like bondage.

Aren't we all supposed to be chasing boys and playing video games, not binding and gagging each other?

Ha.

"Because you were grounded."
"Grounded." Wiping the humour filled smirk off my face, nodding to agree with Abbey. "But."
"You aren't now?"
"Not anymore." Grinning. "And," little shiver, "my parents are out all day tomorrow. So."
"So I'll come over and tie you up."
"And I'll." Charley, belatedly joining in, her phone stowed. "Push and shove Abbey over, too. And tie her up."
"Push and." Abbey, amused because there's really no need. "Shove, me?"
"Well." Charley, shrugging, and we all laugh.

Good to have something to look forward too.

And the weather is turning, slowly climbing up out of the cold, greenery waking up. The sun actually something you can feel. Saturday dawns relatively cloudless, calm, so I optimistically decide to dress for it, digging out a pair of faded black almost grey denim shorts, a khaki canvas belt, too long but I like how the hanging surplus looks. Sky blue cropped tee with a black dragon silhouette across my bust, and a black unzipped hoodie.

"Going out."
"Good." Dad, not looking up from the sports pages. "Footballs on, and your mothers left me in fucking piece so you be a good little girl and do the same."
"Sure." Already at the door, pausing. For some reason taking a moment to look, taking in the scene: cigarette smoking in the ashtray and an opened can, despite it being not quite ten.

In the morning.

Grease splattered plate, remains of a full English. Kitchen to my right a mess, remains of mum's- and thank you for offering but I really was but apparently wasn't hungry -breakfast. And for a mad moment I feel like shouting. Screaming. Doing something.

Fucking, look at me. Care about me.

Shifting within. Livyatan, that slippery uncoiling feeling, and I could make them care. I could march in that room now and I could.

Carefully shutting the front door behind me. Gently, quietly, as though afraid it'll shatter.

"Summer already?" Opening her door with a smile, teasing tone. Happy and why shouldn't she be. Braless beneath a long white, and semi baggy 'Nintendo' tee, flash of purple spandex shorts when she moves. "Love that tee."
"Thanks." Smiling back, stepping through inside. "Anyone else here?"
"I'm here."

Charley, looking like she just stepped off the golf course: red tartan trousers hugging long legs, flaring out below the calf. Slash of exposed skin at the belly a mirror of mine, her own cropped tee is black, long sleeved with a shirt style collar and deep v neck opening. A tight fit, 'Calloway' in white on the left breast, matching black baseball cap turned back to front on her head.

And yes, she is officially sponsored, the good ship 'Calloway' thanks you for noticing.

"Hey, you."
"Morning." Failing to stop me stealing her cap, which I plant backwards facing atop my own head with a grin. We're always stealing her cap, when she wears one. It's an old game and Charley bears it well.

And besides she'll get it back.

"Weren't you bringing Abbey?"
"She's a big girl." Charley shrugs. "She'll be here."
"Drink?" Sarah, already halfway towards the kitchen. "Whilst we, um." A shrug without turning around. "Wait."
"Sure."

And I've taken all of two steps out of the hallway myself when the doorbell sounds off, followed immediately by a fast tattoo of knocks to the wood, followed by the sound of Abbey, giggling outside.

Wearing a dress, blue with a white hem above the knee, white piping along the plunging neckline and thin straps. The dress clings to her, covered in white spots, a uniform pattern, Abbey's white bra plainly visible.

Shoes and socks off, discarded, we don't bother with small talk. Checking. We all know what's about, are all super desperately keen to play.

Upstairs.

"No gags." Sarah, blushing and looking at Abbey, asking for or hoping for confirmation. "So we can. Um." Blushing, biting her lip. "If we, um."
"No gags." Abbey, blushing too, but she nods agreement. And neither of them know, that Charley and me have already tried this fun new experiment of forced intimacy.

"I think...." Charley, tapping finger to lips, sudden evil looking grin surfacing. "We should cover the floor in duvets and shit. Bind you far apart and." A playful wink and her voice teasing, not mean. "If you want it then...."
"We have to struggle and fight to get it." Sarah's voice, shrinking and falling down a hole, the two of them exchanging a look and Abbey shivers. Nodding wordlessly.

Yes.

We raid Sarah's parents bed, her living mostly full time at university sister's bed. Sarah's own bed plus downstairs. Duvets, pillows and cushions, sofa's turned nude and everything scattered, filling up Sarah's floorspace and making for a relatively soft surface. Perfect.

After which, as per the original half jokingly made plan: Charley binds Abbey whilst I tie up Sarah.

"This," holding up her cord with a grin, "you little pain junkie."
"Please." Grinning at my amused tone, knowing what she is, that of us all Sarah seems to enjoy the discomfort. A sliding scale of the group. Sarah, followed closely by me, Charley, and Abbey not exactly lagging but we tend to go slightly easier on her, less ropes but no less tight.

Sarah's cord, unique to her house and she could've binned it some time ago, there's enough- dirty and used but still, usable -rope between us now that she doesn't need it. But she loves it, still. Stupidly long, some kind of pliable and bendy metal core wrapped around with twine, the whole sealed inside green plastic making for a semi ridged, unforgiving piece of binding kit.

The cord leaves marks, guaranteed.

Finding one end I measure off a couple of metres, and whilst Sarah stands still, managing not to fidget despite she must be nervous and excited.

Both by the bondage and what potentially is coming after.

Using this measured length I bind Sarah's right wrist to the very top of her right thigh, wrapping around the limbs separately and together, knotting, with a final couple of loops between to tighten everything up. After which I spend an absolute age repeating the process on Sarah's left, having to feed all the metres and feet of the cord though and around, every.

Single.

Time.

Charley, across the room already has Abbey's wrists and ankles bound by this point, is helping her to slowly collapse from standing to laying.

The rest of Sarah's tie is easy, straightforward yet due to the cord length very time-consuming, even with Charley helping me towards the end, Abbey's hogtie finished by a third connecting rope, keeping things simpler for her, as I mentioned. Basically, starting at the waist, I wrap Sarah up.

Circuits, whilst she remains still and facing Abbey, watching each other and what will they do, once both are bound? Keeping pressure on the cord, keeping it tight, I wrap upwards, around the waist to pin her wrists even further, then higher. I do a section at a time, something like a figure eight before knotting the cord off to itself, pinning that small part of the whole and keeping it tight. Keeping it pinched to Sarah.

Wrapping the chest, above and below, a single cross down from high right between her braless D cups. More knotting and I start descending. Down towards her waist and lower, Charley helping now, looping and binding Sarah's legs, pinning them together all the way down to her ankles. Cord digging into her thick limbs, Sarah's rounded belly pushing at her meant to be baggy tee.

Lowering her down, gently, slowly, like a toppled tree Sarah's body ridged, her legs bending but barely. Her eyes on Abbey, laid on her side and wriggling slightly in her hogtie, looking back across the room at Sarah as Charley and me step back.

"Two hours?" Looking around at the three of them, at Charley, who I frown at. Thinking: how long did she keep me hogtied, playing?

"Until lunch?"
"Late lunch, but." Abbey, nodding tentatively, looking at Sarah with the question. "Two hours?"
"Sure. Um." Blushing. "We can, talk, and...."
"Talk." Sarah, nodding agreement and it suddenly occurs to me that we're somewhat forcing things here. We all want to try new, daring things.

Like kissing whilst bound, but we haven't really talked it through, we're simply binding Sarah and Abbey up, and then expecting them to make out. This could, possibly, turn into a disaster. A misfire, the girls losing the nerve, being too embarrassed.

I'm still not sure, after all, that given a repeat of the circumstances Charley and me would kiss again?

It isn't like we've kissed since.

But we're doing this, so.

"Right." I step back, looking at Charley who nods. "Two hours."
"We'll be downstairs."
"Kay."
"Right," half nod from Abbey, mind already on the- possibly no -action to come, "thanks."

We slip out, closing the door. Winding up in the kitchen, sat at the table because someone stole all the fucking sofa cushions.

Ha.

"No golf?"
"Mum's sleeping off work." A shrug. "Tomorrow."
"Just a practice, or...?"
"Practice." Beating a quick tattoo on the wood, looking at her hands. "Couple hundred balls on the range, maybe play nine if the weather holds."
"Right."

"You?"
"Am I," smiling as the joke materialises in my thoughts, "playing a quick nine tomorrow? Well." Dodging back as Charley swipes playfully at my arm, missing. "Probably not."
"Are you." Stopping to swallow, face gone suddenly serious and I feel a tingle climb my spine.

I guess it's now.

"Are you going back there?"
"Not tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow." Shivering, another swallow. "But you will?"

To which I nod.

"I have to."
"But." Leaning forward, something hormonal sloshing inside me at the sight, cleavage opening, Charley's breasts shifting, pressing forward and puddling on the table. "Why?"
"Because," looking down at my own hands, "I have too."
"Because of the. Thing." Gesturing at me. "Livia.... Um?"
"Livyatan." My tone gone matter of fact. "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."
"Friend to," Small smile forming, "sharks?"

Smile becoming a frown as I shiver, shake my head.

"Sharks. Capital fucking S Sharks."
"Right?" Confused and I am not. Not, fucking explaining. Better she doesn't know.

"It's Livyatan's realm, Legion. Castle, or, it was." I shrug. "S' mine now."
"Because you're Livyatan?"
"Close." Smiling. "I'm still me, but. Do you remember the hospital?"
"Fuck." Eyes going wide as the memories no doubt hit, serious shit. "When you died."
"Almost." Nodding, remembering too. "I would've, but I was saved."

I would've died, had Livyatan not intervened, and I should be grateful. Am, grateful. Always.

But my miraculous return from deaths embrace came at a steep price. There's a bill, and I haven't paid, yet.

But one day?

"Livyatan saved me."
"How?" Looking at me. "What is it?"
"Darkness, as though the dark within the dark moved, had form." Nodding as Charley shivers. "Like power, like a God from a storybook. I let it in, and now I'm alive. But."
"But there's a." Searching for a word or point, and I wait.

"Catch." Clicking her fingers at the word. "Right?"
"Basically." Put simply, and I see no reason to complicate things, to explain my potential future role. "I let it in, but saving me trapped Livyatan." Touching my belly. "Inside. But there are," licking my lips. "Responsibilities. That are mine now."

Which Charley ponders in silence awhile, shifting in her seat, eyes on then off me. Whilst I wait some more.

"What's it like?"
"Well...." Taking the time to think, Charley sitting back and crossing her arms, which- pressing her D cups together and pushing them up -does nothing to tamp down my spiked interest. In her chest.

"He talks."
"Talks?"
"To me." Tapping my head. "Sometimes."
"About what?"
"Useful stuff, or." Licking my lips, unwilling to say it.

The offers, not insistent, and not often made. But, like earlier at home, there's always that knowledge, that small prod from within: if you want it, take it. Use it.

"I could." Fidgeting, flashing me a quick smile. "Go with you?"
"Really?" Coming out unexpectedly loud, surprised and Charley giggles. Nerves because she hadn't looked comfortable or happy there. I take a breath, get my voice back down. "I mean...."
"Moral, um." Leaning forward to pat my hand, both of them resting on the wooden table top. "Support."
"Well...."

Can't think of any reason why she shouldn't? Those random, wandering and still very much active surplus magics aside.

And it's my realm after all, shouldn't it be up to me? Shouldn't we, she be safe now I've talked one of those magics down?

"Well...."
"If you want. Or." Her hand still on mine, Charley gives a small squeeze. "Need. Help, then maybe I can. Um, help."

And from nowhere I feel a smile building, the urge to play, to lighten the mood.

"Not worried about being grabbed by more pink Octopi?"
"Oh." Brief flash of something like fear across her face and I curse, inwardly, my stupid thoughts. But then Charley manages to find a laugh from somewhere, a grin. "To be fair, it was tight. Some good bondage action."

Both of us managing a laugh.

"But. I'd rather be tied by you." Making a lunge across the table as she's speaking, grabbing for me and with a surprised squeal I dodge, coming up off my seat and running.

Charley cornering me in the lounge. Lunging again and we grapple, wrestling, playfighting for dominance both of us laughing and grunting in equal measures.

Going down, me pulling her over and thank fuck the room is empty all through the middle.

Rolling, fighting. Managing to climb ontop, Charley laid on the carpet breath coming fast staring up at me, straddling her one leg either side and my hands firmly gripping her wrists, pinning arms up high and wide apart. Having to lean in to keep up the pressure, blonde hair dangling in her face chest occasionally rubbing her chest.

"Surrender." Breathing fast myself. "Weston."
"Never." Accompanied by a sudden harsh buck, enough to tip me off.

And back into the fight we tumble, except it's short lived. Charley having used her momentum to roll us both, getting around behind where she promptly wrestles and forces my arms together, at my back. Wrapping both in one of hers and wrapping both legs around mine, pinning them together.

Using her free hand to gag me, pulling and hugging me close, and I struggle. Wriggling and bucking, grunting and laughing into Charley's handgag whilst she laughs and grunts back. Holding on, keeping me tight and secure until I flop, defeated.

But with no rope all she can do is hold me, which she does, keeping me pinned against her for several long minutes, enjoying the victory just as I spend those minutes enjoying the sense of helplessness.

Not linking this to recent events: her bed. Nothing more then playful bondage. A game.

[BlissfulMisery]

"Push and shove Abbey over, too. And tie her up."
"Push and." Abbey, amused because there's really no need. "Shove, me?"
"Well." Charley, shrugging, and we all laugh.

Pushing *and* shoving? That is just overkill

In more seriousness, liked the moment of 'realistic misspeaking' leading to silliness. Really adds to the verisimilitude of the story, and you have a (good) habit of doing things like that throughout your writing.

"Footballs on, and your mothers left me in fucking piece so you be a good little girl and do the same."

Should be 'in fucking peace', I presume.

Kitchen to my right a mess, remains of mum's- and thank you for offering but I really was but apparently wasn't hungry -breakfast.

Bit of a mouthful here - looks like the end result of an incomplete rewrite, although the gist of it is still understandable.

Using this measured length I bind Sarah's right wrist to the very top of her right thigh, wrapping around the limbs separately and together, knotting, with a final couple of loops between to tighten everything up. After which I spend an absolute age repeating the process on Sarah's left, having to feed all the metres and feet of the cord though and around, every.

Single.

Time.

The problem with using something too long that you cannot cut

Not the first time the cord was used, but it is an interesting piece of binding material - like the novel inclusion.

And seems like Jane and Charley have resolved (most of) the tension between them, not that I was particularly expecting a different outcome.

Good for Jane to have someone she can confide in, after all this time keeping it in. And even better to have someone who can help, even if it is 'just moral support'. Based on what we have seen of her life, she certainly could use more of that...

[RopeBunny]

Kitchen to my right a mess, remains of mum's- and thank you for offering but I really was but apparently wasn't hungry -breakfast.

Bit of a mouthful here - looks like the end result of an incomplete rewrite, although the gist of it is still understandable.

Not intentionally meant to be a mouthful, but it is written correctly. I added a little extra in at the final edit. The whole thing is meant to read as in internal train of thought.

And seems like Jane and Charley have resolved (most of) the tension between them, not that I was particularly expecting a different outcome.

Well they've talked some at least so yes, most of the tension

[RopeBunny]

Interlude.
All change.

We give them two hours, slightly more due to becoming distracted: diving down a YouTube rabbit hole having got up off the floor, back into the kitchen fetching drinks, sitting down.

Separately to begin with until Charley wants to share something golf on her phone and so over I come, around the table to sit closer, peering down whilst she points out good shots and bad.

Critiquing. After which I feel compelled to show her something on mine.

And onwards we go, blissfully ignorant of how we're sitting, pressed tight. Neither of us considering this in the wider view of Charley's bed.

Kissing, which seems to of become just a thing, a random one time thing. Bondage and closeness and hormones.

Certainly we aren't dating or anything.

You'd think we might've been paying attention, or at least seen the slowly advancing timestamp on our screens. But no. Oops.

Upstairs we creep, quietly without giving thought to why. Up to Sarah's bedroom door and when Charley gently cracks it open the low moan that escapes through the gap makes my skin tingle.

Together we peer in. Quiet, like spies, finding the temporary duvet and cushion flooring somewhat rumpled, itself telling a story: struggles, movement from both sides, Sarah and Abbey are in the rough centre of the room.

Not looking at the door, at us, which is likely for the best, considering. Abbey, still hogtied, dress riding up to show flashes of purple boyshort pants, white piping and waistband. Laid on her side facing Sarah, head tilted back, biting her lip eyes closed. Sarah's cord is still in place too, wrapping and securing her plump curves, she's on her back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, mouth open breathing fast.

One hand, somewhat awkwardly given her wrists are lashed to her upper thighs. But Sarah has one hand plunged and burrowing down inside the low scooped neckline of Abbey's dress.

And possibly her bra too?

For a full minute we stare, silent and transfixed. Voyeurs, unable to look away as Abbey squirms and occasionally moans under Sarah's fumbled attentions. I can feel something building in me at the sight of it all, the helplessness, the physical teasing occurring.

Sudden soft gasp from right beside me and acting instinctively, fast, I pull Charley backwards, closing the door. Quietly.

Taking some time to compose ourselves, deliberately not looking at each other after I physically felt something jump the gap as our eyes met. Both of us seemingly powered up on the sight of our friends, wanting some too.

Charley knocks, once we're composed and can look at each other without grinning, or shivering.

"Time. Girls." I call out loudly through the wood. "Two minutes and we'll come in to free you both."
"Kay." Breathless, after which there follows a period of grunting and I'm forced to cover my mouth. Muting the giggle I can't stop.

Knowing even before we open the door what I'll see: Abbey and Sarah, both having moved a couple of metres apart.

Nothing happening here, honest.

Ha.

The two of us rescuers passing no comment as we free the friend we tied, helping them up. Passing no comment on the state of Abbey's dress, the neckline she retreats into the bathroom to fix. We don't ask what they did, if they had fun. With secrets of our own already prying seems rude.

Unfair.

"Your turn next."
"Wha...?" Blinking, as Abbey drops the bombshell on her way passed, deftly stealing Charley's cap from my head. "I." Licking my lips, fidgeting. "Well."
"Only fair." Sarah, nodding. "Surely you two should have a turn, too."
"Oh." Charley's voice coming out small and I can't look at her, lest it sets off the blush I can feel bubbling like heat under my skin.

"Yes." Abbey, nodding now, at the door and waiting for us all. "Let's eat, then Sarah and me will bind you two for." Dropping us a cheeky wink and I really wish she wouldn't. "You know."

Which gets a giggle from Sarah, and when I dare to flick a glance her way. Charley's blushing, staring at the floor. Because like me she probably wants it, but is equally scared shitless by the prospect too.

So of course neither of us two condemned men have any appetite whatsoever, and far too soon, where next year would still count as too soon, we're back in Sarah's room.

"I think." Sarah, looking at me, wanting confirmation. "I should bind you, Jane, and Abbey does Charley. And." Bending to pick up the cord, cheeky grin and she knows I sometimes. Sometimes, want it. "We should bind you the same way we were?"
"Well...." Reaching down and finding nervous anticipation at the idea, seems I'm in a daring mood. So. "Okay. But." Taking a deep breath. "Like this, though."

Slipping out of my cropped tee as I speak, arms and then pulled up over my head, off. Tossed aside as though I don't care, as though not shivering at what I've just done.

"Right. Well." Charley giggles, nervous, and as our eyes meet I feel that sense of something jumping the gap, again. She shivers. Nods. "Fair enough, but." Jabbing a playful finger at Abbey. "Make sure you bind me more then I did you."

Facing me like a challenge, slipping off not only her black cropped golf top but the tartan trousers too, leaving her quite exposed looking in dark blue matching lingerie: a lace push up bra and thong.

Raising an eyebrow, and. Okay.

Denim shorts off, leaving me similarly naked looking: red push up bra with black lace, pants somewhat mismatched, grey cotton with pink hems top and bottom, the word 'Princess' scrawled graffiti like in pink across the butt.

"Right. Then." Abbey's voice wavering slightly, we've never deliberately stripped in front of each other before and I guess there's still a fair bit of what happened earlier, sloshing around inside her. "You sure," looking at each of us, "girls?"
"....es."
".... am." Both our voices failing, my throat feels locked up, hard to breath to the point when Sarah leans in.

"You sure. Jane? Going to leave marks everywhere without any clothes for padding." Quietly, asking just me and all I can do is nod back, seeing Charley fidget and hopefully they'll start binding us soon, before we lose our nerve, before I run away, out the door and down the stairs and very possibly up the street.

In my underwear.

Luckily though, they get to work.

Sarah manages the cord better then me, she's quicker, following the same pattern I'd used only at a faster pace, and no less tight for it. I'm frequently gasping, often biting my lip to hold back a curse at the merciless cord, which as expected digs into me all over. Harsh, tight and unforgiving.

Wrists lashed to my upper thighs, way way up high where the hem of my pants sits, both cord and Sarah's hand frequently, accidentally brushing across my crotch.

Watching Abbey across the room, binding Charley's wrists behind, looping rope around the waist and pulling, Charley grunting, shift in her body as arms are pulled into place. Secured.

Sarah wrapping me, walking the half dozen circuits to get the cord from waist upwards, to elbows. Stopping and unexpectedly she repeats the wrist binding process here. Wrapping cord around my left arm just above the elbow, passing it around my body several times, above and below my E cups. Pulling tight and forcing the cord to squeeze my bra clad assets.

Repeating with the right, securing my arms properly to my sides. Breasts forced to press at and push out against the bra lace, looking as though ready to pop out all together.

Abbey helping Charley down, from sitting to kneeling to laying, rolled onto her belly. Charley's bra clad chest a close mirror to mine, D cups squeezed top and bottom, pushed apart by rope in-between too.

Back of her thong lost between rounded buttcheeks.

Keeping my legs together, failing to keep my breathing even whilst Sarah finishes wrapping me, plunging down from above my breasts, figure eights she stops often to bind off, maintaining the overall tightness. Cord digging in all over as she descends below the waist, kneeling in front of me now. I'd forgotten how much bite it had.

Too late now.

Looking over, aiming to distract from the throbbing pain. Abbey finishing off, Charley's ankles bound crossed, currently being forced up and back, legs bending as the rope linking ankles to wrists is pulled shorter. Tighter.

Both of the girls lowering me, slowly, carefully since I can hardly bend my legs, can hardly move any part of me save hands and feet. Head. Placing my helpless trussed body on the floor and rolling me, the whole room away from hogtied Charley, she on her belly, me on my back.

"Okay. Well." Grinning, Abbey casually strolling towards the door. "Be seeing you, girls. Have fun."
"Wait...." Licking dry lips, heart going like an engine under heavy load. Nerves. Fear. "How. Long?"
"Oh." A casual shrug and Sarah already at the door, all of us watching Abbey bend down, scooping a pile of rope and a scarf off the floor.

"Awhile."
"But...."
"I'll come up, couple or three hours." Dropping us two bound girls a wink. "Sarah's going to be a little too busy."

Which comment has Sarah blushing, giggling.

The bedroom door closes with a soft click, leaving Charley and me alone.

[BlissfulMisery]

Kitchen to my right a mess, remains of mum's- and thank you for offering but I really was but apparently wasn't hungry -breakfast.

Bit of a mouthful here - looks like the end result of an incomplete rewrite, although the gist of it is still understandable.

Not intentionally meant to be a mouthful, but it is written correctly. I added a little extra in at the final edit. The whole thing is meant to read as in internal train of thought.

Fair enough. Just seemed/stood out as a bit *too* all over the place to me, even for internal thought, hence why I mentioned it.

-

We don't ask what they did, if they had fun. With secrets of our own already prying seems rude.

Unfair.

Especially considering their bit of voyeurism (her own words!) minutes earlier

An awkward scene, but not in a bad way, rather a realistic way - a lot of uncertainty/some embarrassment on all sides. Not the first time I have said something along these lines, but you do have a way with making these sorts of scenes come alive.

And the reaction to the (all too expected) reversal made me smile

So of course neither of us two condemned men have any appetite whatsoever, and far too soon, where next year would still count as too soon, we're back in Sarah's room.

A great way to describe their hesitation. Can certainly relate to that sort of anxiety/nerves/reluctance about something.

"I'll come up, couple or three hours." Dropping us two bound girls a wink. "Sarah's going to be a little too busy."

Which comment has Sarah blushing, giggling.

Seems like Sarah's house is quickly turning into some kind of impromptu bondage-sorority house!

[RopeBunny]

Thanks for commenting, for saying nice things

And the reaction to the (all too expected) reversal made me smile

So of course neither of us two condemned men have any appetite whatsoever, and far too soon, where next year would still count as too soon, we're back in Sarah's room.

A great way to describe their hesitation. Can certainly relate to that sort of anxiety/nerves/reluctance about something.

I'm pleased with this too, 'condemned men' a purposeful misspell given they aren't, men. But it works.

[RopeBunny]

008.

"Can't you just." Pausing to huff, sounds of movement carrying and I don't glance over, Charley's amused- despite her situation -tone drifting across the room. "Wave a magic wand and be free?"
"Not sure I could conceal a wand right now."
"Ha."

There are, wands, in case you- like me -were wondering. Seven of them, I've just been told, helpfully. Livyatan, meaning me, doesn't happen to possess any of them though.

Isn't allowed? Able? To possess any of them.

Besides all of that, detail, I'm wearing far too little to be hiding one, even if I did have one.

Which is my fault.

Having freed the other two, who promptly decided Charley and me should have a turn being bound and left alone, all the better to make out, despite we already have, except Sarah and Abbey don't know we have, and so they thought they were helping instead of just making things potentially awkward.

Still following?

So, now we're tied up, alone with only the length of Sarah's bedroom separating us. Adding to which, thinking she's so clever so daring me decided it would be far more interesting if I stripped.

My fault. Although having removed my top, Charley clearly decided she wanted to win whatever game I'd started and removed not only top but trousers too, after which of course I had to keep up, leaving the two of us looking quite naked in only a bra and pants.

Charley has it relatively easy: a hogtie with extra ropes around her chest. Me, though: I've clearly suffered some sort of madness, a moment of stupidity in which I agreed to let Sarah mummify me with her digs in like fuck plastic coated cord. Wrists lashed to upper thighs and upper arms secured by way of squeezing my E cups, cord criss-crossing all up and down me.

Tight. Pinching, I'm both enjoying the discomfort and regretting it in equal measure.

"It doesn't work like that anyway."
"Magic?"
"Fuck knows how magic works." Laughing, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't have any."
"Bollocks."
"What?" No anger to her tone but the word still jerks my head to the side, finding Charley still laid a rooms distance away, on her side facing me.

Legs and arms forcibly pinned behind her, bent back. Head resting on a cushion and squeezed breasts half puddled sideways on the floor. Flash of her purple thong and so.

Much.

Skin.

"All that stuff you said downstairs." Nodding at the door. "Some God, Livyatan, inside of you. Bollocks you don't have magic and shit."
"Well, yes. Right." Squirming, pulling a face as cord digs in. Every fucking where. "Half a story. Sorry."
"Well carry on then." Tutting, at me. "We're not going anywhere."

Demonstrating the point with a stretch, pulling at legs and arms, arching her underwear clad body, chest and belly thrusting forward at me, head back too. Wriggling, breasts flopping and I stare.

"What?"
"Huh?"
"You were," blushing, "staring."
"Oh. Well." Feeling my own blush rise. Swallowing. "I, um. Sorry."
"Ought to be." Laughing too hard, covering nerves I guess at our joint predicament. "Can't you see I'm not decent."

Words followed by a moment of silence, the unintentional joke: can't I see, when apparently staring was the whole issue. Humour sinking in on both sides, smiles appearing, growing. Me, tutting loudly, head shaking. Charley sticking her tongue out in response.

"Tell me the rest?" Made a question, asking, offering to listen just as she's offered to accompany me back to the Never Sunset. And I'm still not sure whether that's wise.

"Okay. Only." Not liking the distance between us, the yes it's normal volume not shouting but that still feels too loud for what I've got to say. Feels like secrets, my double life, not something to speak of casually, not something to discuss above a whisper.

"Can we be closer?"
"Closer then friends?" All innocence, frowning as though in genuine thought. "Like, can we date?"

Blushing, because her mind went exactly the same place mine did, Charley's attempt at more humour instead calling forth her bedroom. Kissing that neither of us planned yet neither of us stopped once it got going.

"I meant can you move?" Showing her an understanding smile, not laughing, not mean. "Closer, and I'll meet you someplace in the middle?"
"Neutral ground huh?"
"If you like." Nodding, Charley returning the gesture.

Becoming too focused on myself to watch her, not that I- liar -would. Trussed body, mummified in unforgiving cord reducing my movements to that of a snake or worm. Caterpillar? Rolling onto my belly, legs barely bent, can't do any more. And push, huffing as I straighten out, reaching out with hands pinned to my sides, grasping at the floor covering duvet and pulling, gaining a couple extra feet for it.

Cord digging in with each flex and bend, beginning to regret my choice to strip down to bra and pants. Sweating, grunting, progress measured in inches and Charley, those few times I do glance up seeming no closer.

Muscles aching, pausing, needing the rest, breathing too fast.

Rolling from belly to back, trying again, same movements, bend and flex and grab and pull, making no better speed or distance, grinding anyway, closer, closer.

Eventually finding by way of a gentle collision: Charley, my head making contact with her belly and we both stop. Collapsing into a joint heap she on her side but tilted slightly under the weight of my head, resting on her thong clad crotch, Charley's body curved, her head resting on my belly, laid on my back.

The arrangement comfortable and besides I'm far too spent to move.

"Better?"
"Sure." Hardly whispering, but lowered tones all the same as though trying not to be overheard by the next table over in a quiet restaurant. "You?"
"Yes." Taking a deep breath, wriggling, which I feel through her shifting belly, Charley's D cups bouncing slightly, dominating my immediate view much as my E's are mostly filling her foreground.

"Half a story?"
"Right." Thinking, having already decided on the truth, since she's already seen. But how deep to go?

"So. The hospital." Stopping but Charley only nods, intent. Waiting. "Right." Quick nod of my own. "Me, dying, and Livyatan being all helpful. Saving me and of course I'm grateful."
"Course."
"Fuck off." But smiling, Charley's tone all mocking, but gently.

"The first time he spoke to me," shivering at the memory, that voice I might not ever get used to, "there was an offer. I could be saved, if only I let him in."
"Which sounds like some proper creepy as fuck horror movie shit."
"Agreed. But." Swallowing, fighting back sudden emotion, taking a calming breath. "I was dying, what other choice was there?"

"There was more though, joining to me traps Livyatan inside. 'Power and knowledge, my blade. Freely given' is what he said. Offered. The power of a God." I laugh, gently and without humour. "But at my say so, and I haven't said yes. Yet."
"You haven't...." Confused. "What do you mean?"
"Everything Livyatan is, everything he could do. I can do, but I."

Stopping to laugh, because it's still a little crazy.

"I panicked, threw up a. Um. Barrier?" Pondering the word. "Keeping the power and stuff out. Away. It's all mine, anytime I wish, but right now I just...."
"Don't?"
"Don't." Nodding. "I don't want to be a God, to boss a Legion of the literal actual dead around. To worry about...."

Other things, out there. Livyatan's warning, in the wake of Emily. Other's, and I doubt we're all friends.

"I don't want it."
"So, no magic?"
"No magic." And we've come full circle, how much of it Charley understands I don't want to ask. I've told her now, and just as with the Never Sunset: if she's got questions, she'll ask them eventually.

Silence seeps back into the space, Charley looking thoughtful but whatever it is she doesn't ask. Silence, although eventually talk seeps back in too. Nothing of any value being said. No plans made, no teasing. No offers from either side.

"Ha."
"Ha?" Frowning, the answer coming moments later as I feel Charley's body shifting and we've both struggled, tensed and squirmed plenty, easing tension in bodies pinned tight. But this shift is different, Charley's limbs moving in ways the rope shouldn't allow.

Loosening?

Head slipping and dropping, soft bump as it hits the floor, as Charley unfolds herself from the tight hogtie she's apparently spent the last fuck knows how long slowly and secretly escaping.

"Oh?"
"Indeed." Kneeling, stretching, towering over me, it feels like. Looking down and grinning, sight of her free sending my heart racing, a tingle chasing down my spine and for an instant I expect her to....

But Charley frees me, working quickly and without a word, not asking. Not offering to do any more or any different. Not a word except.

"Let's get them." With the accompanying grin, cheeky and infectious, the thought of sneaking out, downstairs. Grabbing the other two.

Somehow.

Infectious, Charley's idea, just those three words and we could execute this a dozen different ways, could and should likely talk. Plan.

But we don't.

Instead, freed, taking a moment of my own to stretch, to shake out the kinks and wake long secured limbs back to life. Grinning, we grab fistfuls of rope, scarves and tape. Whatever we can carry.

Sneaking downstairs, not bothering to or even considering putting any clothes back on and halfway down, one side- bare arm and leg -brushing the wall, all commando and ninja style. A sneak assassin the both of us somehow managing to hold back repeated fits of almost giggles each time Charley looks back.

Eye contact and this will be so much fun.

Halfway down the stairs, taking a step forward but there's nothing there? Below me and I'm stumbling.

Falling? The world blacking out.

[StrugglingSue]

Very good writing!

[RopeBunny]

Very good writing!

Thank you appreciate the comment.

[BlissfulMisery]

Thanks for commenting, for saying nice things

Someone has to do it

I'm pleased with this too, 'condemned men' a purposeful misspell given they aren't, men. But it works.

Yes, I noticed that as well, and personally would have changed it, but figured it was intentional to be closer to the original colloquialism. Works well either way.

-

There are, wands, in case you- like me -were wondering. Seven of them, I've just been told, helpfully. Livyatan, meaning me, doesn't happen to possess any of them though.

Isn't allowed? Able? To possess any of them.

I assume this is more referencing the setting/backstory of the 'Bunnyverse' you have been building over time, but makes me curious if the wands will actually come up later...

Chekovs Gun, or Chekov's world-building, essentially.

Having freed the other two, who promptly decided Charley and me should have a turn being bound and left alone, all the better to make out, despite we already have, except Sarah and Abbey don't know we have, and so they thought they were helping instead of just making things potentially awkward.

Still following?

Ahh yes, the age old problem of keeping secrets - sometimes it backfires

Charley has it relatively easy: a hogtie with extra ropes around her chest. Me, though: I've clearly suffered some sort of madness, a moment of stupidity in which I agreed to let Sarah mummify me with her digs in like fuck plastic coated cord. Wrists lashed to upper thighs and upper arms secured by way of squeezing my E cups, cord criss-crossing all up and down me.

Tight. Pinching, I'm both enjoying the discomfort and regretting it in equal measure.

'Some sort of madness' - or as some of us like to call it, 'a love for bondage'

Still, she is not wrong in pointing out all the inherent contradictions in such interests. So madness indeed, and to borrow a quote from something entirely different, "we're all mad here"

"Let's get them." With the accompanying grin, cheeky and infectious, the thought of sneaking out, downstairs. Grabbing the other two.

Somehow.

Infectious, Charley's idea, just those three words and we could execute this a dozen different ways, could and should likely talk. Plan.

...And the double reversal...

Halfway down the stairs, taking a step forward but there's nothing there? Below me and I'm stumbling.

Falling? The world blacking out.

...thwarted.

I suppose as much as Jane wants to keep the supernatural aspects of her new existence at arms length, it was inevitable they would eventually catch up with her.

As always, curious to see where all this goes next. Though regardless of the specifics, I suspect Jane will be regretting her choice of wardrobe

[RopeBunny]

Thanks for commenting, for saying nice things

Someone has to do it

I assume this is more referencing the setting/backstory of the 'Bunnyverse' you have been building over time, but makes me curious if the wands will actually come up later...

Can't resist

I like the 'Bunnyverse' I've built, am building. That interconnected world of supernatural things which I've tried several times to join up but never with success.

No harm in meeting new/old faces after all

Two chapters below. I dislike (as has been mentioned) posting without including a TUG, the whole point of the board

So you get two.

Enjoy.

[RopeBunny]

Dreaming?
Reality?

"Sand?"

Lifting one foot to make sure, running a finger across the sole and.

"Huh?" I can actually feel the grains, the soft yellow texture, tilting my hand and watching the slow cascade back onto the beach. Hearing the hiss.

"I was...." sneaking downstairs, with Charley. In Sarah's house. In my-

"Oh." Looking down, reaching up to adjust my bra on almost automatic instinct, settling E cups within the black lace and red surrounding material, doing likewise to the elastic waistband of grey cotton pants. Neither action necessary but wearing so little, in a strange place and self consciousness seeps in.

A strange place.

Sun beating down overhead, heat dampened by a steady breeze coming off the water. Beach at my feet and stretching out behind me-

"What the...?" I'm on an island. Of course, looked at a certain way the whole world is just islands. Varying sizes. This one: tiny, a volleyball court that I doubt shows up on any global map and-

"Fuck." The thought, dropping with the weight of a bomb: am I even on Earth?

Nothing from horizon to horizon to horizon to horizon. Water, and the small patch of beach I'm standing on, a slight hump one rouge wave could easily swamp.

Nothing but silence both within and without, and this very much feels like a Livyatan problem, and I'm opening my mouth to ask. To speak, to break the slightly unnerving quality to everything when.

"Old friend." Not Livyatan, yet inside my head, the same deep menace filled tones, an approaching storm, the rumble of canon fire. Fury barely contained. "What have you done?"

So, there's a hierarchy of sorts. Isn't there always? Various monsters, things out of folklore and mythology, sometimes not, at the top of which sit the Five Nightmares.

Above, likely casting furtive glances back are the wand bearers. Should they survive long enough to actually learn the craft.

Dark Gods: Livyatan. Ushinatta. Others, sworn enemies of the wands and wouldn't you be, had humanity sacrificed one of yours, used the very bones to create such instruments? Unstoppable, unless an Elemental surfaces.

Literally, in this case.

I'd asked, the first time I heard Livyatan's full title. Friend to Sharks? So I'm aware there are now only three Elementals: Fire, the Ever Raging Wind, and the Shark which defeated and consumed the Earth, the fourth.

Certainly- shiver I'm forced to tamp down lest I spasm, unable to stop -can't fault the mental image that accompanied Livyatan's explanation of my- his -apparent friend.

"Fuck. Me."

The fin alone, surfacing some distance away is house sized, the mostly submerged body attached could swallow a good sized ship without difficulty. The sheer scale unreal, the word huge not sounding enough. Grey with the vague impression of tiger like black stripes and a long trailing scar, running down the side facing me as the Shark circles, slow and lazy, the scar running back from about halfway, ending at the tail, jagged and often broken.

"Who are you. Girl?" It asks, and again I reach down, within, searching for help. For answers. What the fuck do I say to a Shark that swallows buildings?

Finding nothing, no help no guidance. Silence like a wall and only afterwards, after I'm done screaming do I realise this too is a kind of offer.

Pick up the sword, let me in, show the Shark who you/I am.

"Old." Please don't eat me please don't eat me. "Friend."
"Tell me why?"
"Why?"
"There Livyatan stands. The Once and Forever. Ruler of the Never Sunset, Commander of the Forgotten Legion. Keeper of the blade Western Sorrow in the Rain. Friend to Sharks."

That last coming out almost bitter, anger flashing forward enough to make me flinch.

"There Livyatan stands. But there you stand, and I feel my Friend as though through mud. So. Tell me why. Girl."

From nowhere I feel rage bubbling up, annoyance at the constant round and round, the felt need to keep turning in place, to keep it in sight. I stalk forward a step, point.

"Who are you. To force me here without asking. Checking. Old friend," ignoring the danger, tone mocking, "I am not yours to bend as you wish."
"You forget yourself." Something like a warning in the tone, flash of teeth as the monster circles. "I am Last Judgment, the Shadow from Below. Elemental of Water and Earth. Overlord of the Lost Armada, Keeper of the Kraken."

Following which there's a standoff, of sorts. The Shark circles, silent. Waiting. Whilst I, the stupidity and stark danger of shouting finally hitting home. I breathe, unclench fists. Think.

"I didn't ask for this." No longer shouting, doubt distance is any impediment to hearing me. "But I was dying."
"I am aware of the bargain. Girl. But I am not aware why."
"To walk the path untaken." Near as I can remember it, Livyatan's reasoning when I'd asked: why the fuck me?

"And yet you do not."
"Do not." Stopping to shake my head. Tut. Fucking old style talk. "Don't, what?"
"You do not walk."
"Because." Voice rising again, despite knowing I shouldn't poke the dragon. Shark. "I don't want to walk. I don't want to be Livyatan."
"I have found you. Smelled you."
"And?"
"Others will know you too. You. Girl. Will not be able to stand."
"And?"
"There are many who would welcome your disadvantage. Who would see weakness."
"And?"

Anger, frustration getting the better of me. Hands on hips like I'm facing off against a school bully. Being petulant and purposefully difficult, not listening to what is likely sound advice from a friendship potentially older then time.

Forgetting who I'm talking to, shouting at.

Forgetting things like consequences.

Out to sea water collapses in, filling the void as the Shark dives, resurfacing near instantly. Impossibly rising up from underneath, body moving ghost like through the rock foundations of this small island with no more difficulty then passing through water.

Mouth gaping wide filled with row upon row of metres long sharp teeth.

"I give you mercy. This time, because you are owed that much. Old friend." Words at odds with actions, those powerful jaws snapping closed and me effectively swallowed in less time then I can even begin to start to process.

World going black, sensation like falling, opening my mouth to scream.