Plymouth: damsel for hire (FM+/F+) *NEW 30/08 NEW*

[tickletied84]

Well that is some wedding! Great set of updates - the description of being single and wanting fun at the wedding, and the mixture of encounters that Brooke/Plymouth has during it. I wonder which (if any!) of the girls end up back with her post-wedding

[RopeBunny]

I wonder which (if any!) of the girls end up back with her post-wedding

Thanks for the comment

Only two current candidates: Kira and Dorothy, although that doesn't mean I can't/won't add more as the story twists and develops

[BlissfulMisery]

Thanks, such a long detailed comment, and I'm so pleased to read so much positive feedback, happy to see that what I wrote landed so well.

You are welcome! Glad to give credit where it is due

-

"But." Confused, even whilst letting Kira lead me out onto the cleared central floorspace, the live band playing something slow, romantic. "How?"

How indeed - definitely not what I was expecting

Fidgeting in the lift, wanting to kiss her but not sure if I'm allowed. Which is silly but for some reason my submissiveness is riding high, making me feel small, and subservient.

To the point that: once inside my room I actually hand Kira the key, and my phone, both of which she takes with a nod as though expecting nothing less.

Brooke riding quite the rollercoaster of emotions in this wedding, and so not surprising that she is 'falling' so hard/seizing the opportunity so vigorously. Can be surprising (and even frightening, in some contexts) how easily one can fall (and want to fall) into total submission.

"Tell me to stop."

I think that is about as likely as Brooke suddenly giving up her passion for trees or bikes

"I." Nodding again, smiling at me. "Want you to bind me, to show me the control, what I just did to you. Please, Brooke."

Quite the sudden role reversal (and the obvious intent to leave the chapter at a bit of a cliffhanger foiled by the simultaneous posting )

And Kira was *really* tempting fate, taunting/daring Brooke the way she did. Cannot say she did not 'deserve' the intense tie she ended up getting

But I hate the slavery angle, the kneeling and the names. Partly it's a learned thing, because I've been there and it didn't end well. But mostly I hate the fakeness- for me it always feels such -of it.

In fairness, part of the reason is probably also because she is not really one for long term relationships

(Just poking fun - it is certainly a valid perspective. Bondage and submission mean a different thing to every single person after all.)

So, on the bed, kneeling but eyes on Kira, my head tilted slightly to regard her, insides thrumming like a well tuned engine at idle.

Suppose she had to get the reference to bikes in there somewhere

Overall definitely maintains the drunk 'floatiness' well throughout the first two chapters - things 'just happen', flow into each other in a slightly surreal/losing time sort of way. Different then usual, which makes sense, again, given how drunk she is. Does a good job of showing, rather then telling (not that you do not mention it of course, but this is better).

Uncomfortable, my whole body one uncomfortable painful mess, about which I'm far too horny to care.

Really liked the whole description of her waking up - panic into excitement into struggles into a sort of passive acceptance/drifting off into daydreaming. Very raw - the increased use of clipped sentences to highlight the racing nature of her thoughts definitely helped sell it.

To analyse and process what's happened, to remember Kira's look, the way she'd stared and acted around me. Adoring, almost worshipful at times.

Is she, stalking me?

Am I gaining, or have I already gained an obsessive fan?

Ominous. But not unfounded, especially given some of Kira's strange behavior - avoiding Brooke until the last day, and even during their bondage marathon, the way she almost seemed to be testing her in various ways that seemed a little beyond the usual dominant/submissive dynamic (possible not wording this well, but shrug).

Did not always comment on little things I noticed/liked as much this time around, for the sake of keeping the length of this manageable, given the volume of chapters. But there were definitely plenty of those.

As always, enjoyed the read

[RopeBunny]

Ominous. But not unfounded, especially given some of Kira's strange behavior - avoiding Brooke until the last day

Don't think I outright mentioned it, think I simply hinted.

The Wedding.
Day two, evening.

....

"You're...?"
"Here. Yes." Looking, glancing around. "Want to dance?"
"But." Confused, even whilst letting Kira lead me out onto the cleared central floorspace, the live band playing something slow, romantic. "How?"
"I got invited." An easy shrug. "Friend of the Bride."

Really? Brief shake of my head, trying to clear the fog but I can't bring up any focus, and moments later can't remember what I'd been bothered- why haven't I seen you before now, in a wedding party so damn small how have you managed to hide? -by anyway.

Which, okay I can see it wasn't the strongest hint, not the best explanation of Kira's dishonesty: pretending to be a genuine guest.

Didn't want Brooke to figure it out at the time, because she's drunk, and most likely I forgot to include a post credits style scene of her asking Jennifer about Kira, only to have her friend look confused.

"I." Nodding again, smiling at me. "Want you to bind me, to show me the control, what I just did to you. Please, Brooke."

Quite the sudden role reversal (and the obvious intent to leave the chapter at a bit of a cliffhanger foiled by the simultaneous posting )

Unfortunate, but yes. I prefer to post single chapters but am genuinely running way ahead of myself, so decided to post the wedding close out all at once.

Just a pity it spoiled my attempts at the shock and reveal side of things.

[RopeBunny]

And, just wanted to say. Yes, I'm loving the writing, this site and posting helps me stay sane, so comments or not I'm unlikely to close down and walk away.

But.

But, comments are nice, logging in and finding such makes me smile. Just, tell me good job, or pick out something you liked, some part of the chapter(s) that stood out.

I'd appreciate it, and not just this one time, but, most (every) time. It's a true thing that I'm not the greatest reader of other members stories here, but, if I do read, I drop a comment.

Because that's fair.

Which is to say my asking politely went about as expected.

[RopeBunny]

009a.
The Good.

A simple shoot. Like a one sentence, simple summery of today's plan, or the plan for any shoot: fun, easy, productive. No drama, everything following the laid out and agreed script, no deviations, no crossing into forbidden territory.

By which I mean a shoot going technically beyond whatever limits we'd all agreed to, and even Leon, stepping out the room and leaving me bound. Okay, yes I'd offered, happy to help and it was hardly a kidnapping, but it still counts due to being outside of the initial agreement.

So, a simple shoot, today, please and thank you. But given my history- things have a way of happening around and to me, especially to me -anything could happen.

What? Okay, fine, you caught me. Sometimes I'm hoping for these out of course events, and sometimes, whisper it but don't admit it: it's even my fault.

"All alone huh?"
"Just us." John, smiling at my humour, and we've been over it but he points towards the far off gates anyway. "Fields locked."
"Your brother doesn't mind?"
"It's the off season." A shrug. "And he's family, sometimes I come help him mow the grass, fix the plumbing and."
"Sometimes he clears a whole field for you to do a bondage shoot." Smiling, nodding.

Liking the easy going professional friendship we've quickly developed, a good sign considering how intimate we'll become as the day evolves.

I don't know the percentage within bondage porn of those videos with sexual content. Fucking, in some manner. The fact of sex or not doesn't influence my willingness to take or decline a work offer, although any shoot without an orgasm guarantees a frustrated and insides sloshing with unspent arousal ride home.

Which isn't fun, but is part of the job.

And, honestly, there's an angle here, for someone as into it as me, where the denial of an orgasm whilst bound is actually a turn on in itself, which only serves to turn me on more. Becoming like a spiral, a feedback loop of frustration and want and need.

Liking girls, never having had a boyfriend beyond fumbles and groping, stolen kisses in Comprehensive way back, I don't actively seek out male led bondage sex work. But work is work, cash is cash, and John's premise had been good enough to snare my interest, his payment offer exceeding what I'd normally ask in this competitive adult modelling market.

So here we are.

Pitched up in the far back corner of an otherwise empty field, on the campsite John's brother owns and runs, down in the mid belt of Cornwall. A fair distance from Owl, but for bondage it's worth the effort.

Hovering around fifty, short hair streaked through with grey, likewise the cropped beard. Body lean, and in conversation, scattered throughout the day, John tells me he competes in triathlons. Professionally, and I- sometimes -jog and- occasionally -swim, Owl keeping me in shape enough neither are necessary but.

Damn.

John has an easy smile and manner, which helps. Boundmaidens is an old site, well known, and were it not for a- almost comedic in some lights -series of scheduling conflicts these last few years, this wouldn't be our first shoot together.

Having parked the Hayabusa, John offering, suggesting we leave it in shot but no, the bike is unique, striking and easily familiar if anyone cared to pay attention, and whilst I don't exactly blend in, I'd rather not attach the bike to Plymouth.

I've likely- Kira, and I'm watching, kind of waiting and wondering, thinking -got one stalker, fan, already. Liking my Plymouth side isn't the same as wanting to be constantly recognised as an adult model.

Leather jacket removed, hung over a handlebar, helmet safely resting on the grass. Having arrived to find John halfway through setting up I dived in to help. The donated empty field isn't always used how we are, today, there's a good number of outdoors bondage things you can do with this much space, with guaranteed privacy.

But today we're- pretending at -doing camping, so.

John's four wheel drive, a classic Land Rover one of the long ones farmers tend to use, paint a sun and use faded blue, years old mud splattered around the arches. It looks the part, and is therefore parked- at such an angle the front and rear plates can't be seen -at the back of our developing setup. In front we pitch a red four man tent: dome shaped and pinned down with black ropes, single annex sprouting off the right side and a whole separate internal compartment at the rear, for sleeping.

A small, on it's side oil drum style BBQ, which we'll actually use for lunch later, alongside four- there's only two of us, but setting the scene, making it look real helps -unfolded chairs. various other camp based items scattered around, inside and out, mostly for show.

There's no storyline here, we won't be doing dialogue, no script. It's simply three separate shoots, each one camping based.

"Ready?"
"Sure." Enjoying the gentle breeze, the coming and going sun, sky littered with cloud but mostly warm regardless. "I'm good."
"Want to change in the tent?"
"Okay." A shrug, uncaring since he'll be seeing me naked soon enough. But courtesy is nice, even if I'm not particularly fussed.

Jeans and black 'Triumph' tee off, underwear off. Boots, of course. Dressing in typical- with a porn twist -camping wear for a girl: black thong which rides up on my hips, easily visible above the waistband of faded blue denim shorts, the frayed hem right up the top of my thighs. White vest top, no bra beneath, hair tied back.

"Happy?"
"Looking great." Giving a thumbs up, me, feeling happy and doing a little twirl, John laughing.

Shoot one, getting perhaps the hardest of the three out the way. Hard not because of the bondage, but the circumstances.

Aviator shades, to help with the on and off glare, I lay down in front and just off centre to the tent, a short distance away the spot chosen deliberately to keep it- all our carefully made backdrop -in shot, behind me. See, she really is camping.

Feeling the grass tickle, scratch at my exposed skin, shuffling to get comfortable, to flatten the small patch I'm on.

Going still once John begins binding me though, not wanting to hinder and the grass is never going to behave, it'll scratch no matter what I do. Laying patiently whilst each of my limbs, wrists and ankles are tied separately with rope, John hammering in heavy duty stakes, four, each one metal with a curl at the top.

Attaching each of my limb ropes to a stake, wrapping and reeling in the ropes, pulling my limbs taut, spreading me out flat on the grass.

Using a long strip of self adhesive white bandaging to gag me, wrapping it around my head over half a dozen times, the first two passes inside my open mouth, pressing in to force my tongue back, the remainder atop to seal, the whole covering my mouth completely.

Letting my hair down afterwards, feeling odd as John, suddenly so intimate, leaning in close and arranging my blue cascade just so, making it look right.

"All good," from leaning over to simply kneeling, still close by, "Plymouth?"
"Sssrrrrdddd." Nodding. I'm ready.

"Remember to click." Thumbs up to my second nod: clicking my fingers being the recognised sign I'm in need of help.

"Okay." Having backed out of shot, voice half raised. "Shooting now."

For an hour. And he'll upload it as an hour too, like a special shoot, a realtime thing: Plymouth, left out in the- occasional -sun for an hour, captured and helpless.

One camera rigged to shoot permanent close up, my face and chest in shot, angled for a teasing hint- and it isn't hard given how large my breasts are -at cleavage.

Another two for different whole body angles. No script, which means I largely remain still, breathing a constant low moan due to the gag and tight ropes, due to the sun. At times I struggle in frustration- feigned, because I could do this all day, please -whilst at others I simply stretch, either each limb in turn or flexing, pushing my body up and out.

Shaking only certain parts of me at times too, knowing, or at least having a pretty good idea of what the eventual audience wants. Chest, crotch, breasts simply bouncing, settling. Crotch being more of a stretch then a shake, parting my legs, pushing upwards or just bouncing as though frustrated.

An hour of bliss, and I'm genuinely sad when John calls time, hiding the fact of course. And definitely not commenting that I was comfortable. That he could put me back.

No, onwards.

Back into the tent and emerging naked except for slip on sandals.

"Happy?"
"Got to stop asking me that." Smiling, that easy back and forth, deliberately clicking my fingers a half dozen times. "I'll say if I'm not."
"Right." Smiling back.

Binding me whilst I stand outside, looking around, peering at the far off boundary hedges, tall things you couldn't see over. This field backs onto farmland on two sides, other camping fields on the others.

I suppose you could see me, us but mostly me since John isn't either naked or bound. Were someone to walk passed the gate I assume they'd see me, but if John isn't bothered then neither am I.

Wrists and elbows bound behind, tight yet simple, preferring my breasts to move and bounce naturally and not be rope squeezed, John had explained via our pre-shoot email exchanges. Adding a harness ballgag, the various leather straps and buckles sitting atop my hair, pinning it down.

For this shoot John only needs a handheld, because we'll be mobile.

Filming from outside as I, having walked back in, leave the tent, standing still whilst John walks a slow circle, zooming in as he tracks down then up my back, repeated at the front. Being sure to moan, to stare into the camera and slow blink as he pauses at my face.

Walking, but slowly, allowing John to move slowly too, ensuring the camera bounce is minimal. Stopping twice to look left and right, letting John either complete a half circuit or taking the opportunity to zoom in, again. As we walk he's sometimes behind but mostly in front, walking backwards.

Switching to beside me as we reach the fields central toilet and shower block, a rectangular brick built structure, sloping roof and a door each side: male and female. Plus around back, which I saw driving in there are flush pits for caravan toilet system tanks and an outside tap for water filling.

The female door is unlocked, held open by a hook attached to the wall through an eye socket fixing.

Inside, John following. Walking to the row of sinks and pausing to stare at myself in the mirror, John finding an angle where he can shoot my reflection without being in shot himself.

And, pause.

For John to turn on and warm up a shower, one of seven arranged across the opposite wall, each one having a privacy curtain we of course leave alone.

Filming again. Sandals slipped off, stepping carefully in. And for five minutes John shoots footage of me attempting to wash, whilst he periodically squirts gel at and over me, whilst I moan, soaking under the constant spray from above, hair already pinned by the gag now becoming plastered, sticking all down my back. Blinking often, rubbing myself against the walls as the only method to working in the gel.

Dry humping the wall at least once, becoming quite carried away in the moment, enjoying the slight coarse texture of the wall, tiles only coming up to knee height, combined with my slippery skin. Looking back over my shoulder and moaning as I rub up and down. John giving an approving thumbs up, not in the script, but. He approves.

Carefully laying down, spending the final minute and a half squirming and rolling in the shallow tub like bottom of the stall. More squirted gel, more moaning as the water strikes and bounces off me.

Pausing again, John helping me up.

Filming my slow walk back to the tent, dripping wet but making sure to appear unbothered by my state. Pausing only once, a full circle being walked by John, closeups of butt and shower wet pussy, of water dripping off erect nipples, running down breasts and face.

Disappearing into the tent, and end.

Freeing me, to dry off and brush my hair. After which I throw on the vest top and thong, shorts from the first shoot. Time for food: sausages on the BBQ, stuffed into rolls and washed down with water, for me. Talking everything and nothing, finding common subjects of interest.

Cleaning up, and ready for the final shoot.

Slipping on a grey cotton nightie, elasticated around my F cups and cut low to leave the tops of them bare, hugging and moulding to the shape of me, flowing out below to a pink hem midway between crotch and knees.

John hogtying me, three ropes and a little slack, because I'll need it. Adding a ring gag, because we'll need that- access -too.

Fixing cameras on tripods to record as much of the sleeping area as possible, pressing record. Walking away.

Leaving me a couple of minutes alone, to set the scene and to struggle of course, to attempt escape from the slack but still too tight ropes. Moaning, making sure to force out a string of drool, to thrust my breasts and crotch at the most convenient camera.

John coming in, wearing only a baggy fit black tee.

Fucking me, basically.

Taking his time though, of course. Making the shoot good, giving the eventual audience what they want: me, fucked properly. Feeling me up awhile first, running hands over my curves, making me moan and squirm, sliding a finger or two inside my throat. Gently patting my pussy, pulling a shoulder strap down to expose one breast, patting and licking, kissing the nipple.

Forcing me to suck him off. John's cock almost too thick for the ring, thick yet stubby, slightly on the short side. Holding my hair, guiding my tempo and several times pinning my face to his crotch, holding his cock deep down my throat, forcing me to cough and gag, to struggle in- feigned, for the camera -panic.

Eventually fucking me properly, laying down and manoeuvring me so he can easily slide in and out. Me, spreading legs wide, being helpful and participating as best I can. Rocking with him, body straining at ropes as I attempt to fuck John back, fighting the lack of freedom, moaning, and despite I really do prefer girls, have no urge for a real cock.

It's nice, different.

Withdrawing as he gets close, pumping by hand whilst I continue to struggle and fight, to thrust and bounce, still helpless and bound but clearly still horny. Denied a climax of my own due to it- fucking a guy -being just too different, to far away from normal that even the thrill of bondage can't temper and tilt the slide in my favour. Moaning as though begging: come back, fuck me some more.

John's climax exploding all over my gagged lips, a fair amount dribbling down inside my forced wide mouth and at least some striking my cleavage.

Done, finished and John declines the offer of help to pack up. Apparently he and the brother, plus a couple of close friends will be having a drink tonight and he needs the tent to crash. So I leave, paid, and happy.

A simple shoot, and it's somewhat nice to see that: that's all it was.

[RopeBunny]

009b.
The Bad.

I take the train, wishing afterwards I'd riden, if only for the Hayabusa's ability to calm any frustration with layer upon layer of speed.

And I am, at the end: frustrated, angry.

Fucking mad.

But, a meeting with the Commissions new head: Laura something, slowly making her way through the staff, personal one on one's and I can appreciate that level of effort, because to see the office staff is easy, quick, but it takes time to bring all us remote staff in from the cold.

As it were.

A meeting with the boss, which felt appropriate to dress up for, as opposed turning up in jeans and a Forestry Commission tee, my Kings jacket and weather depending, possibly wearing a layer of mud, or soaked through.

Isn't it important to make a good first impression?

So the train, followed by a taxi since it's a little far to walk and still arrive feeling, and looking fresh. A clean white shirt, sleeves rolled up and only slightly open at the top, I'll never hide my canons, don't want to, but I can at least attempt to be modest. This paired with a black pinstripe skirt, a side lace up fastening, from halfway to the top, the skirt hem above the knee, slightly loose, swishing as I walk.

A black underbust waist corset, because it's my style, lacing up at the front, two thick belts circling, the whole yanked and buckled tight. And knee high lace up black boots, polished to a shine and a larger then expected sole. Alternative, like the corset and there's a scattering of ink on show too, half here and half there, left arm and leg, hand.

Because I'm Plymouth too.

Through reception, acquiring a visitors pass, a rectangle of smart plastic suspended from a dark- forest -green lanyard, which I decline to hang around my neck, instead proceeding into the building, lanyard swinging as I walk. Happy.

Stairs not lift, my pass opening doors with a click once pressed to the relevant access pad. Up four floors and down corridors, following the directions provided at reception, simple enough. Nodding to those I pass, smiling on the three- out of five people passing in the opposite direction -occasions I'm visibly, obviously checked out.

Smiling afterwards, when they can't see me. Head still full of Dorothy, the yes no of reaching out to make first contact. Full of Kira, wondering what, and if so when I should do anything about her? Too much going on to start acknowledging a casual flirting appraisal from someone working in an office I likely won't be returning to for months, or years anyway.

"I'm here to see Laura." Laura? Shit, um. "Castleford."
"And you would be?"
"Brooke, from Owl. I believe I'm expected."
"Right." Tapping at her keyboard, young like me, black hair cut stylishly, straightened, the whole of her a world away from blue haired me.

"If you could take a seat?" Gesturing to a row of five small fabric chairs against the wall, a three two arrangement bisected by a small table. "Mrs Castleford is just on a call."
"Right." Nodding, sitting down and they're all empty, so I take the middle of the three set. No magazines on the table, and I bought my phone, currently tucked into my khaki green messenger bag, Commission waterproof jacket taken off once I got inside, slung over the bag. But I don't want the distraction of my- turned off anyway -phone.

So I wait, alternatively sitting back, stretching my arms across the empty seat backs and for some reason the act earning disapproving looks from Castleford's secretary.

Is it my ink? My too large under a tight shirt breasts, that leaning back and stretching draws the eye of the precisely zero people here?

Leaning forward instead, elbows on my knees and twirling the lanyard until.

"You can go through now, Brooke."
"Great." Standing, almost leaping up from the seat with a small bounce- which of course is mostly my breasts, bouncing -that no doubt earns me another red mark.

Fuck her.

Knocking out of politeness, but opening the door immediately afterwards because I'm expected. Finding a corner office with amazing views, or it would be if it weren't for all the other office buildings close by. There is green, to be seen, and a far off train line, I think?

Of the office itself, a bookcase against one wall holding what look to be a fair number of mixed plant and law based tomes, some of which appear quite old. Almost a dozen potted plants ranging from three cacti in a row across the desk to a huge yucca soaking up the sun in the corner where the windows meet. And behind the desk, standing hand out to greet me: Laura.

Forties, at a guess. Hair the natural red of autumn leaves, worn unbound, curling slightly to her shoulders. Curves, a mostly in shape twelve with the modest hump of C cups under a yellow dress with black and white flower and fern silhouette patterning. The dress is ankle length and in the style of a wrap, as though it were a short sleeved robe Laura has put on, making for a deep v necked overlapping collar and belted at the waist.

"Brooke." Firm handshake, nice smile. "Good of you to come."
"Mrs Castleford."
"Laura." Waving the formality away like a buzzing fly. "Please." Nodding at the three chairs on my side of the desk. "Have a seat."
"Thank you."

Sitting down, bag and jacket left outside, hands clasped loosely in my lap.

"So." Placing one hand atop a thick sky blue folder, resting on the desk between us, held closed by three rubber bands which serve to seal what looks to be organised chaos inside. Organised sheets, no doubt holepunched and clipped in place but plenty of chaotic loose paper visible too. The whole looking busy. Messy.

"This is you."
"Indeed." I've seen my folder before, a meeting with Ben, my immediate boss. I know the reason why it's so large for an employee with such a short span of company time, why there are so many loose sheets.

Surely- slight sinking feeling inside -Laura knows too.

"What do you think of this."
"What?" The sudden change in direction catching me off guard, Laura passing, all but tossing so it glides across the desk towards me, a single printed sheet. Which I catch, and begin reading.

"Well...?" Okay, interesting, but I'm not seeing the point here. "I mean...."
"We're calling them Rangers." Nodding, a half smile and I'm guessing it's her name choice at play. "The current thinking, the plan going forward is to recruit four, with a view to starting training in two." Seesawing her hand. "Three or even five months."

Still feeling the sink, pieces I can't put together but instinct is screaming in my head and gut that nothing good is coming.

"The thing is, Brooke." Patting my folder again, smiling- too politely -at me. "You're a valued employee here, nothing but good reports, most recently from North Point Comprehensive. It seems you've had quite the good influence on-"
"Right, well."

Interrupting because I just can't. Can't and won't sit here dancing towards whatever is coming.

"Brooke?" Frowning, like all managers Laura appears to dislike Interruptions. Tough.

"Could we skip to the but." Placing the paper I'd been fiddling with on the table, before I start turning it into an aeroplane. "Please." Trying on a smile whilst my insides are churning, worry eating me up. "I know there's one coming, so...?"

Regarding me, and I regard her back, and if she's going for some kind of intimidation stare, some display of displeasure at my spoiling her flow.

It isn't going to work.

"You can't stay in Owl."
"But." Feeling the bottom fall out of my world and thank fuck I'm sitting, otherwise I'd collapse. "Why?"
"Because-"
"-Because of all that." Not winning any points here, Interrupting the boss, again. I grimace, plowing on, waving a hand at my too thick folder. "I had. All that." Voice going too high, emotions leaking and spilling over. I take a breath, reign myself in. "Out with Ben, months." Years? "Ago."

It isn't a lie, put simply they never asked, so I never told them. About Plymouth, about my other life which should like all outside work activities be something private, of no concern.

Except what nationally recognised company wants to have a porn star on the books?

Figuring my employment at Forestry Commission to be temporary, not liking the fact but unable to see any other way: wanting to live both lives whilst knowing one will ultimately ruin the other. So, head down and push forward, do my best and relishing each day.

Until that meeting, and I forget the specifics now, the why. What I remember is the shock of discovering the Commission knew- Ben being friends with my old boss, Jeff, from my first outdoors tree related job. And Jeff knew, and told Ben when he came asking after a reference for the Commissions potential new employee. And Ben, making a judgement call decided to give me a chance.

To employ me, a porn star, as Owl Woods new keeper, trusting in his friends appraisal of me: a hard worker, not a trouble maker nor a rocker of boats.

And, as the reports, as Laura just testified I've done well, worked hard in all things. So.

"What the fuck?" Voice calm but unable to banish all the emotion, swearing at the boss. "Is it today, then?" Fighting to keep the tears at bay. "Is this it, thanks Brooke but take care and goodbye?"
"No."

Smiling, having found her calm and I should probably take lessons in that: controlling emotional response during moments of stress. Laura takes the single sheet of paper, folds- simple, into thirds, no sign of an aeroplane, not even a boat -it, placing it in an envelope and placing that in front of me.

"Ben's decision still stands." Arms on her desk, fingers clasped, looking at me. "The Commission stands by you. Brooke, we're still. Always, I hope."

And her genuine smile, actually invested in her words, believing in them, in me. I can feel the tears threatening all over again.

"We want you on board. But."
"Knew there was a fucking but." Laughter escaping at the same time as the tears, a release of tension. Wiping at my eyes and Laura digging in a drawer, handing over a box of tissues.

"Unfortunately damage control has to be a consideration." Small grimace. "We, the Commission, employ thousands, all across the country in a variety of roles. And you're hardly the only one with a colourful life."

Earning another choked out half laugh half cry from me, pausing until I'm back under control.

"The Nationals." Newspapers? "People will always be digging, looking. And eventually someone's going to find you, find out about you. And."
"When they do." Breathing out, a little shaky still but I've come to terms long ago. "You'll let me go."
"We most certainly will not." Shaking her head. "What you do may be frowned upon in some quarters, but it's hardly illegal."

Actually winking at me and oh my fucking shit and crap, is she?

Has Laura watched me.

"Plymouth." Small nod at the jolt my other name produces from her lips. "We don't want to let you go, however. We." Looking around her, at the office and the wider building beyond her walls. "The Commission feels it might be best were you not in such a customer facing role."
"I." I mean, fuck. "See."

"Take some time." Pushing the envelope towards me, with a smile. "We don't want to let you go. Truly, Brooke. But we can't keep you in your current role. So."
"So it's Rangering or I'm out?"
"Look the job over." A shrug. "Hopefully you'll see it isn't something bad."

Right.

And after a number of days I'll be calm, I'll be resigned to my- apparent -fate. But throughout the journey home and into the following day my anger only builds. That I should be backed into a corner, forced to accept terms as the only way in which I'm allowed to continue as both Brooke and Plymouth.

Fucking. Bitch.

Laura, who I'll come after those number of days to see as helpful, trying to offer me a chance. But through the anger all I see is her corporate office, her too pleasant smile.

Bitch.

Polite, helpful and kind, but in my anger I'm only thinking the worst of her, am too blinded by rage to recall her good points, am only seeing her as the monster attempting to take- steal -Owl away from me.

What the fuck do I do?

What can I do?

[Jenny_S]

I love this story!

[RopeBunny]

I love this story!

Thanks She- Plymouth -is a favourite of mine.

[hunt407]

What a great story. Love the characters, the progression, the great bondage descriptions. Loved the suspense of Plymouth waking alone after being left by Kira. Most of all, love the ongoing tension between what Brooke wants re submission and bondage, and her good sense. Looking forward to seeing that play out.

[RopeBunny]

Loved the suspense of Plymouth waking alone after being left by Kira.

I really enjoyed writing that section, delving into deep water.

Thanks for commenting, great to read you're enjoying the story, Brooke's internal war between wamt and common sense is far from over, plenty more fun to be had

[BlissfulMisery]

Which, okay I can see it wasn't the strongest hint, not the best explanation of Kira's dishonesty: pretending to be a genuine guest.

Didn't want Brooke to figure it out at the time, because she's drunk, and most likely I forgot to include a post credits style scene of her asking Jennifer about Kira, only to have her friend look confused.

Sorry, I was unclear myself - was responding in a bit of a rush and reading it back I expressed myself very poorly. 'Avoiding her until the last day' was meant more in the sense of 'showing up/crashing the wedding only on the last day'. I did pick up that something was going on in that regard, ie that Kira was likely an uninvited guest and that her behavior was... concerning. So I do not think there was anything wrong with how you explained it.

Also makes me think that whatever emergency/issue pulled Dorothy away may have not been entirely a coincidence...

Which is to say my asking politely went about as expected.

:/

Did not really say anything about it when you originally posted it since, well, it is not the first time the subject has come up, and I figured I would not bother rehashing things that had already been said.

I still will not, but I will say that the situation makes me sad (in a wider sense too, not just the specific/obvious)

-

Like a one sentence, simple summery of today's plan

Assume you meant 'summary'?

And, honestly, there's an angle here, for someone as into it as me, where the denial of an orgasm whilst bound is actually a turn on in itself, which only serves to turn me on more. Becoming like a spiral, a feedback loop of frustration and want and need.

Not wrong there - denial can be an intense and paradoxically enjoyable experience...

An hour of bliss, and I'm genuinely sad when John calls time, hiding the fact of course. And definitely not commenting that I was comfortable. That he could put me back.

Intrusive thoughts striking again

A simple shoot, and it's somewhat nice to see that: that's all it was.

A nice 'back to basics' reset for her, given all the crazy things that happened recently.

Laura takes the single sheet of paper, folds- simple, into thirds, no sign of an aeroplane, not even a boat -it, placing it in an envelope and placing that in front of me.

Brooke staying focused on what really matters I see

In seriousness, understandable that her attention wanders, given the situation. Unfair and painful, even if she knew it would eventually come

"Take some time." Pushing the envelope towards me, with a smile. "We don't want to let you go. Truly, Brooke. But we can't keep you in your current role. So."
"So it's Rangering or I'm out?"
"Look the job over." A shrug. "Hopefully you'll see it isn't something bad."

Right.

Not exactly an accurate/one-to-one comparison, but feels very much like a 'Siberian promotion'.

But through the anger all I see is her corporate office, her too pleasant smile.

Bitch.

The furious helplessness of having ones livelihood (well, part of it) taken away with the stroke of a pen by someone who does not seem to grasp (or care about) the deep investment you have.

Who even lords that power over you a little, with the way she used Brooke's alter-ego name (obviously there are many other ways to interpret that, but I would not be surprised if Brooke saw it that way).

Can certainly understand Brooke's emotions.

Also, suppose the next chapter will be called 'The Ugly'?

Eager to see what happens.

[RopeBunny]

Also makes me think that whatever emergency/issue pulled Dorothy away may have not been entirely a coincidence...

Seems like conspiracy theory stuff and unfortunately I'm (this time) just not being that smart.

Which isn't to say I won't intertwine Dorothy/Brooke/Kira at some stage further down the line

Which is to say my asking politely went about as expected.

I still will not, but I will say that the situation makes me sad (in a wider sense too, not just the specific/obvious)

To be honest I've made peace with it, mostly. Saw no harm in asking, in politely pointing out something I felt/hoped could be improved.

Doesn't help matters to publicly state I'll continue writing regardless, but I'm good.

So long as I'm enjoying the act of writing, I'll keep it moving forward

Laura takes the single sheet of paper, folds- simple, into thirds, no sign of an aeroplane, not even a boat -it, placing it in an envelope and placing that in front of me.

Brooke staying focused on what really matters I see

Can't help myself I enjoy these random asides way too much

Also, suppose the next chapter will be called 'The Ugly'?

Actually, not

Did think about it, could've. But there are only those two main thrusts to Brooke's life, porn and trees, so I only needed two chapters.

[RopeBunny]

010.

"How did you even know where I'd be working?" Climbing down out the cab and approaching, Fastrac gone silent, ticking over as the engine cools. "I mean," gesturing, a sweep encompassing the wide woodland all around, voice dropping back to normal volume as I stop, "this place is fucking huge."
"Rrrddddffffggg." Shaking her body at me, grinning behind the ballgag, I can see. "Mmmnnnppsssddd."

And I'm not even mad. I should be, because I'd hoped I was wrong, and yet Kira being here, not only in Owl but in the specific part of Owl I'm working in, today. Her being here basically confirms my stalker slash obsessed fan theory.

So, I should be mad, I should shout and point, tell her off and warn her away. No more of this shit.

Except it's been a crappy run of days, since my meeting with Laura. I've been sad, but unwilling to reach out and share that burden with any of the few I count as friends. Calmer now, thinking, considering. But still the sadness creeps in.

And now, like magic, here's a welcome distraction.

Owl is crisscrossed and riddled with pathways, some official, marked, some not. Some wide enough for the Fastrac, some narrow to the point it's single file between overgrown bracken. It's a fair sized woodland, split by a main road and rising up each side, bordered at the hilltop on one side by farmers fields.

A good man, we've met, and even collaborated on the border hedging.

On the other, the side with my small house, the main side I would say. Here Owl dips back down off the hilltop, continuing and bisected by a rarely- four, on average per day -used frieght only double rail track, which occasionally gets busy, which occasionally sees passenger stock. But I'm not a Railway man, and so don't understand or particularly care why.

Today I'm up near the hilltop, near the farmer. It being late afternoon I'm calling it a day, tools back on the trailer and the slow descent home. Spotting the impossible of her: Kira, about a dozen metres off the track, half concealed by those trees bracketing the wide path.

A long, hard day, and looking at me no doubt it shows. Dyed blue hair a mess, sweat covered like the rest of me, working in the heat of an unexpectedly hot sunny day. Faded blue denim shorts and dark green Forestry Commission tee dirt and tree stained, the tee plastered to my F cups and bra quite visible beneath. Boots covered in sawdust, a byproduct of the wood chippings I've spent hours shovelling.

By contrast Kira looks so clean I want to throw her in the nearest puddle. She's naked, and sat quite calmly, despite her state, on an old long ago felled tree stump. Taking her in, taking my time- and okay, yes, enjoying what I'm seeing -I note solid metal cuffs locking her wrists behind, the type with no small chain, just loop welded to loop each one at a slight angle to the other. Quite restrictive things.

Her ankles are cuffed too, the same basic design: no chain, just two snug looking loops though this time set properly side by side, keeping her legs pinned straight. The ballgag, black rubber and black leather straps buckled tight over her black hair, the thick dyed purple streak at the front a nice contrast. I can't help but smile to note the small padlock fixing the buckle in place, preventing removal or loosening.

Beside her on the ground is a small backpack, clothes presumably? Plus most likely the keys.

"So." Hunkering down in front of her, about a metre away legs bent bouncing on my toes, elbows resting on knees. "Here we are again."

No verbal answer, no moaning but I get a slow nod, her eyes watching me, almost dancing with mischief. A line of drool choosing this moment to overflow her gagged mouth, to begin running down towards her chin and I resist the strong urge to lean in and lick it up.

"I presume." Can't help but smile, leaning forward to prod her belly. "That I'm to take this as an invitation?"
"Fffssssrrrmmmpp." Another nod. 'FAO brooke' quite clearly, if a little badly written across her flat Filipino tan belly in black sharpie.

Suppressing a second urge: to go and retrieve my own sharpie from the Fastracs cab, to cover the rest of her in whatever words and notations I choose.

"I don't suppose you'd care to tell me where the key is?"
"Ggghhhfff rrrsssttmmnn." Shaking her head, actually winking at me like it's all a game. Clearly having fun, and it has to be. Has, to be in her bag. Because where else?

"Well." Standing, looking around as though I'm about to do anything else, as though my mind weren't already made up. And I shouldn't encourage this, her, should call a halt and drive Kira back to the nearest station. No more stalking, or whatever this actually is, except.

Except. I can't. Because I thrive in my own doom, I get off, become more aroused then anything by willingly putting myself in danger, and looking at her, and yes right now Kira's cuffed, helpless.

But I know, tingles already begun deep within. I know if I take her home there's only one way this will end: me, bound and gagged, her prisoner.

The only questions being, how will she talk me into freeing her, and how will I then be bound.

"Guess we'd better take you with us then." Grinning, and just because I know she'll eventually win doesn't mean I can't have some fun first. Kira squealing in shocked panic as I easily- plenty of muscle and she's so skinny, so little to her -hoist Kira off the stump, slinging her over one shoulder, legs dangling down in front, feeling her breath fast on the small of my back.

Walking back to the Fastrac and, without pause lifting and tossing Kira into the wood chippings filled trailer. Walking back to fetch her bag and placing that in too. Pausing a moment, she having shuffled and wriggled around onto her back, looking up at me over the trailers high lipped side, breasts and pussy on display.

Moaning as I tip her a salute, returning to the cab, firing up the engine and engaging first. Continuing the slow descent home.

Spotting the car as I'm approaching the gateway, the exit from Owl on this side, from which a brief zigzag will bring me home. And I'm not, am never expecting visitors, especially not anyone driving such a posh car. A Bentley saloon as I swing the Fastrac in and get a better view of the grill, long and sleek and black, rear door opening and someone climbing out.

Late fifties, close cropped grey hair and beard, a body that still looks in shape despite running towards fat at the stomach. Dressed in a dark navy suit and white shirt open at the neck, black Dr Marten boots shining in the sun and wearing a bowler hat in the same manner I've seen Americans wear Stetsons in movies. The whole ensemble looking as though it could easily of cost about the same as the car.

"You here for me?" Leaning out one foot on the first step, hand on the open door body tilted forward and F cups- unintentionally -thrusting at the stranger. Fastrac a noisy rumble at idle, having to raise my voice.

"I am."
"Let me park, unload." Glancing back at the trailer, managing to not smile. "Three minutes."
"Whenever you're ready, Brooke."
"Right." Blinking, and pulling myself back inside. What does it mean that he knows my name?

Who is he?

Bringing tractor and trailer around in a wide arc, climbing out to unlock the large barn like shed and backing the trailer in. Parking and dumping it against the far wall, on the right and mostly inside the painted bay one of my predecessors marked out. Playfully swatting Kira's bare, now wood chip flecked butt as I pass.

Parking the Fastrac outside, beside the barn in it's own designated spot before returning to the barn.

Lifting Kira out the trailer, slight wriggles as I carry her- in front, one arm under her upper back the other her knees -over to the wall I hang tools on. Laying her down and taking a length of chain out a low cupboard, wrapping and padlocking one end around her wrists, securing the other to a solid eye fixing low down on the wall. Enough slack she can squirm, but not enough to allow her to rise beyond kneeling.

And she's already squirming.

Smiling as I notice the fact: I've unintentionally dumped her atop a large old oil stain, which is already smearing on her skin, adding to the patches of wood already scattered across her nakedness.

"You stay here." Grinning, hunkered down again as Kira looks up at me, blinking, softly moaning but still smiling around her gag. Happy to be playing at a guess, happy I'm playing, with her.

Loving my attentions, as all good obsessive stalkers do, no doubt.

"I'll be back." Thinking, no clue what he wants, or how long it'll take to find out. "Soon."
"Fffgggsssslldddd." Shaking her small breasts at me, body becoming more stained as she writhes like a trapped snake.

Feeling something break inside, the dam of my self control.

And five minutes later I'm standing back up, brushing my now oil and even further wood chip stained body and clothes down, unable to stop the grin as my heart fights to slow from racing. Kira breathing equally fast, panting into her gag, oil smeared in rough handprint shapes across both of her breasts, the taste of it, of oil mingled in with the taste and scent of her citrus bodywash still on my tongue, combined with the strong rubber of her ballgag, which I'd been tongue kissing even whilst dry humping and groping her.

Shaking myself, sealing my shorts back up and rearranging both tee and bra, both of which I'd yanked up, mashing my F cups in her face, rubbing my pussy against hers.

Wanting her and damn the consequences.

Stepping back, a last shiver as Kira moans her goodbye, flexing herself at me.

Come back soon.

And out, closing and bolting the barn door, walking towards the Bentley, the rear door once again opening as I approach.

"What's that?" In my kitchen, a simple thing to move Kira a third time, carrying her over one shoulder, backpack in my other hand. Nobody to see Kira's nakedness and captivity, Owl deserted now. The keys, a small ring holding all three not hard to find, unlocking her gag.

Only her gag, and no protests as I place her in a kitchen chair, using rope to bind Kira in place, running a single length from cuffed ankles to cuffed wrists, under the chair. Pulling tight, forcing her legs back, pinning her arms pointed straight down, holding her in place.

Not protesting, smiling at me, enjoying the attention and I am so very doomed.

"These." Sat across from her, glass of water complete with straw and we're sharing, having lifted the tip to her lips several times already, drinking normally myself. "Well," fingering the more recent, and thicker, freshly delivered moments ago, Laura's single- offer -sheet beside Samuel's offer: over a dozen sheets bound and presented in a black folder.

"These are job offers."

Suddenly I have choices. Having calmed down I'm able to see the Commissions offer for the interesting prospect it is, a posting that guarantees variety, travel. Ranger, she's calling it, a troubleshooting role, plenty of travel in the- company provided and stocked -van, plenty of hotel time. Aiding where necessary, filling in the gaps caused by annual leave or absence.

Lots of time away, not suitable for a family man, which I'm not.

And I could still be Plymouth, as I am now, letting the Forestry Commission salary take care of me, left free to set my own pace on the modelling front.

"What?"
"Sorry." Caught, I'd been looking down at my F cups, thinking about fronts and I do tend to create quite the bow wave. I'd been smirking.

Samuel's offer, though, it's all Plymouth. No Brooke required, no tree knowledge necessary and I've never done that. I've never just been Plymouth.

"I need to think."
"Want to talk it through." Small smile, shy even now. Naked and locked up, tied up to my chair, gag and padlock, key still in the padlock all of it on the table between us like a threat, a promise or a dare.

All this and she's still shy.

"With a, friend?"
"Bare bones." Damn it she looks so cute, so fuckable and how am I meant to concentrate.

If this is having an obsessed fan I really can't see the issue.

"I can't stay here."
"In this house?"
"In this woodland."
"Oh."
"Quite." Grimacing. "Seems the Forestry Commission." Picking at the logo on my tee, seemingly glued to my bra encased F cup.

Laughing as Kira, eyes tracking the shift of my breasts, licks her lips a little too obviously.

Damn but she really does want me.

"See." Looking down at my hands, resting on the table. "The Commission actually don't mind me being Plymouth, but there's been a change at the top, and the new girl in charge doesn't want me so."

Unable to help myself, flirting with my stalker. Doomed, like I said.

"Front and centre." Shaking my chest to emphasise the fact, of how obvious I am. Kira, eyes gone wide, licking her lips a second time and likely getting my seat wet, which is fine because having her there, naked and locked up, my willing prisoner until at some point I do the stupid thing: freeing her and surrendering instead.

Having her here is getting me damp too.

"So this." Patting the single sheet. "Is a different role within the Commission, something more out of sight. But still fun, active."
"And the other?"
"Well...." Resting my hand atop it, feeling a warring mix of emotions, remembering Samuel's words.

"We'd really like you on board, Brooke."
"I'll need some time, Samuel."
"Sam, please." Tipping his hat. "And you've got it, time. I can give you a couple of weeks."
"Thank you."
"Welcome. Miss." Climbing back into his posh car, having shaken my hand first. And, first impressions: I'd liked him, liked the offer.

"Interesting."
"That's." Wriggling, frustration manifesting as an actual struggle because she can't simply look, isn't in a position to take charge.

"It?"
"I need to think."
"Well." Giving me a cheeky smile, shifting on the chair, not a struggle, a blatant flirt: pushing her small chest out, flexing, spreading her legs wide and from this angle I can see her pussy.

Feels like it's calling to me.

Looking up to find Kira looking at me, smiling wider, knowing she's caught me, that I'm falling into her trap.

"How about a shower?" Holding my gaze, no power in her next words, no order given yet still I shiver. "I could wash you."
"If I unlock you."
"When."
"Pretty confident for a prisoner." My own confidence spoilt by a second shiver.

And we both know I'm caught.

"Food first." Recovering somewhat. "Let me cook, and I'll unlock you to eat."
"Fair." Nodding, dropping me a wink. "And afterwards I'll bind you."
"Fair." Throwing her own word back, both of us laughing after.

Feeling something jump the gap, some connection build off our easy flirting- doomed, maybe -exchange.

Having to retreat to the kitchen counter, putting my back to Kira, needing the distance and the distraction of cooking lest I free her, and fuck dinner.

Such a sudden, swamping urge I'd felt to have her bind me right now.

[BlissfulMisery]

Seems like conspiracy theory stuff and unfortunately I'm (this time) just not being that smart.

Which isn't to say I won't intertwine Dorothy/Brooke/Kira at some stage further down the line

Fair enough - but it is fun to speculate.

And are we talking intertwining in the very literal sense? A relevant question, given the subject matter involved

So long as I'm enjoying the act of writing, I'll keep it moving forward

All one can do, at the end of the day.

Did think about it, could've. But there are only those two main thrusts to Brooke's life, porn and trees, so I only needed two chapters.

Well, to be fair, there is/are also bikes, ie Brooke's third love. But I get your general point.

-

And now, like magic, here's a welcome distraction.

Welcome perhaps... but also likely to create future problems.

Beside her on the ground is a small backpack, clothes presumably? Plus most likely the keys.

*Hopefully* with the keys, else I worry about the true depths of Kira's obsession...

and looking at her, and yes right now Kira's cuffed, helpless.

But I know, tingles already begun deep within. I know if I take her home there's only one way this will end: me, bound and gagged, her prisoner.

The only questions being, how will she talk me into freeing her, and how will I then be bound.

Quite the power-move to show up naked and cuffed with the expectation that you will still end up the one in charge... or you know, just knowing your target audience (ie Brooke) all too well

If this is having an obsessed fan I really can't see the issue.

Might have sounded cleaner with 'If this is what having an obsessed fan is like...', but regardless of irrelevant quibbling over exact wording...

Having to retreat to the kitchen counter, putting my back to Kira, needing the distance and the distraction of cooking lest I free her, and fuck dinner.

Indeed Brooke, remember that the fucking comes *after* dinner, not before

(And yes that *is* a terrible writing/word oriented joke)

Assume we will find out more about Samuel's offer at a later date, but from what has been revealed thus far, it seems like there is a fork in the road ahead for Brooke - the choice between continuing to awkwardly straddle two different worlds, or to fully embrace her Plymouth side. I suspect it will not be an easy decision for her.

[hunt407]

Eagerly awaiting the next chapter. Choices, choices....

[RopeBunny]

And are we talking intertwining in the very literal sense? A relevant question, given the subject matter involved

Stop giving me ideas

Did think about it, could've. But there are only those two main thrusts to Brooke's life, porn and trees, so I only needed two chapters.

Well, to be fair, there is/are also bikes, ie Brooke's third love. But I get your general point.

Fair. Probably could've made bikes into a somewhat third, even within the confines of what I've written above: Kira showing up at a biker meet, on a bike?

But I love the naked and cuffed on a tree stump entrance

Assume we will find out more about Samuel's offer at a later date, but from what has been revealed thus far, it seems like there is a fork in the road ahead for Brooke - the choice between continuing to awkwardly straddle two different worlds, or to fully embrace her Plymouth side. I suspect it will not be an easy decision for her.

Not wrong on any of these counts. Yes you'll learn more as we go, yes there's a decision to be made.

This, the choice and subsequent flow of story, is the main idea I came back to Plymouth with. Kira and Dorothy are just interesting extras I added whilst writing

[RopeBunny]

Choices, choices....

Indeed, and whichever way Brooke jumps I guarantee it'll be interesting

[RopeBunny]

011.

I can't eat, and Kira can't eat. We sit across from each other, picking at the salad and reheated half quiche- I ate the first half two nights ago, fresh and homemade -with a shared lack of enthusiasm, repeatedly darting and stealing glances each time we're certain the other isn't looking back.

Finally, because bizarrely for someone lacking in shyness, someone as happily forward as me, and yet there I've sat for twenty plus minutes unwilling to comment, to make the first move. Feeling as though it isn't my place.

Not understanding the dynamic either. Liking it, Kira's blatant- and I haven't said it, and she hasn't said it, but what else do you call it -stalking and obsession with me is new, and like a rope slut slash surrender junkie I'm drinking it in, but I don't understand it. Are there rules? Should I not- stupid question, which I ignore -be letting her control our interactions?

When she's bound, I find myself loving it, wanting her, wanting to use her, to own her. And yet, once she isn't, like now, I feel small, and nervous, unwilling to do anything save what I'm told.

Finally, Kira stands, and by the time she's turned back to face me, rope from her backpack in hand, I'm standing too. Waiting.

"Can't shower with clothes on, Brooke."
"No." Swallowing, beginning to strip. "Sorry."

Tossing everything towards the corner, Kira taking hold my arms the instant I'm done, naked. Placing them together behind me, wrists crossed, which having bound them she tugs, and up my wrists come, inverting fingers now pointed at the ceiling. Kira wrapping the remainder above and below my breasts, using lots of fancy ropework- below the armpits and up around my neck -in order to secure my arms in place.

Comfortable, sort of. Pinned between my shoulder blades, out of the way and Kira's binding definitely too tight to escape.

"Dropped in on you."
"You did." Following her upstairs, tingle at the odd dynamic: my house yet I'm bound, Kira taking the lead.

"No plans?"
"Work." A shrug she can't see. "Tomorrow. Um." Stopping to lick my lips, the pause bringing Kira to a halt, turning to face me. "If that's okay?"
"You mean." Retracing her last few steps, coming up in front of me, placing a hand on my breast, gently stroking the nipple with her thumb and I sigh, legs gone weak. "You've got work, tomorrow, but not if I choose to keep you bound."
"Well...."

Blushing, in part at Kira's smile, the mischief it seems to promise.

"Yes."
"Relax." Bending to kiss my now erect and throbbing nipple, letting go of me and setting off upstairs again, talking over her shoulder. "I've got places to be tomorrow."
"Right." Managing, I think? To mask the disappointment.

Or maybe not, Kira laughing, half turning to flash me a grin.

My house isn't large. Two double bed capable bedrooms upstairs, separated by a bathroom within which the shower climbs the wall at one end of the tub, requiring you to shower in the bath. Downstairs is a large lounge taking up the whole front of the house, a smaller kitchen at the back.

"Of course." Just inside the bathroom and stopping again, turning to face me, forced to stop in the doorway.

She's grinning again.

"I don't. Have," emphasising the word, "to wash you."

Raised eyebrow, her challenge issued and in response I remain silent.

"If you're not going to talk to me I might as well gag you."
"I...." Wasn't expecting to not be gagged, immediately. This whole dynamic: Kira randomly showing up as and when she chooses, taking as she pleases.

And I never told her where I work, that I even do work, beyond bondage modelling. How the fuck did she track me down to Owl? How, the fuck for that matter did she track me to Scotland, because there's no way. No. Way, that she's Jennifer's friend.

The whole thing, though, the potential danger of it because aren't stalkers supposed to be dangerous? It's all like the best high, but really fucking complicated too. "Um...."
"Stay there."

Brushing passed me, and I wait, fidgeting, feeling the flight response growing, body and adrenaline urging me to run before bad things happen, to me.

"There." Ballgag forcing its way into my mouth on the back of her word, Kira- like a quiet cat -stalking up behind distracted me, head yanked left then right as the buckle is pulled and fed through.

"Ffffsssssmmm." Low, not distress, turned on, into it. "Rrrtttpppgggdddd."
"Go wait for me on the sofa." Pointing out the door, tone not bossy, but nor is she asking. "Sit on the right, legs spread."

To which order but not an order, but not a suggestion either. Nodding, I leave, hearing the water kick in as I carefully negotiate the stairs, walking to and sitting on the sofa, on the right hand side, leaning against the plush blue backing, legs spread wide. Sweaty, smelly, Kira's captive though neither of us has said so, no talk of rules or limits, or of an endgame.

Waiting. Horny. And she keeps me waiting.

Eventually sweeping into the room, fresh and clean, smiling and wearing my black silk bathrobe, loosely belted over her nakedness, the hem incredibly short, Japanese characters I no longer remember the translation to in white on the back.

Phone out, taking photos and I'm- was really fucking drunk, wasted, but I'm -fairly certain, pushing through the drunk fog, that she took a steady stream of such in Scotland.

Possibly, some vague memory, a video too.

Standing before me, phone away and arms crossed beneath her small breasts, legs slightly apart.

"There's soapy water in the tub." Making a couple inches gap between two fingers. "Not enough to cause danger. There's a towel on the floor. I expect you back down here, dry and clean in twenty minutes." Letting the cheeky smile through, all a game except it's at my expense. "Otherwise you'll be spending the night hogtied naked in the garden."

"Understood?"
"Ssspppptttt." Nodding, standing, shivering at the rush of Kira's predicament now hanging over me.

Slight fidget from Kira, as we briefly face off and perhaps she'd been expecting a fight, a flat refusal to play? Perhaps she still doesn't believe the unlimited nature of the control and power she wields over me. That I'm too into this game to do anything other then what I'm told.

Is she flying blind too? And to be fair I very much doubt she's a professional stalker. Ha, as if such a thing existed. Probably Kira is as clueless regarding the limits and rules as me, she's pushing, waiting for me to push back.

Waiting for the- her, and I'm inflating my own ego, I realise, making myself out to be some great thing, a star worth obsessing over -dream to end, for me to get angry or to simply call the police.

The really bad thing here is that a part of me wants, craves the thought of losing, of being forced outside, hogtied on the wet grass and left there overnight, in the dark and the cold. The problem here, though I don't see it as such, is that there are no limits.

But I can't lose on purpose, so upstairs I go. Climbing into and laying down in the bathtub, allowing myself a normal speed count to two hundred, which has got to be five plus minutes, no more then ten. Rolling around, rubbing myself front and back against the slippery sides. Dunking my hair and shaking it out, rolling some more.

Climbing out, performing a controlled collapse onto the laid out towel and another count of two hundred, rolling then wriggling, rubbing myself against it. Kneeling, head upside down rubbing my hair, as best I can.

Standing and looking in the mirror. Staring at my bound and gagged reflection.

What are you doing, Brooke?

Falling, and not even for the first time. Again, falling again which makes it worse since you'd think I'd learn.

Am I so eager, then, to walk into something so open ended, so blindly.

Maybe I-

"Hello you." Leaning in the doorway, and how long has she been standing there, watching me?

"Ffggghhhss." Jumping, I'd been staring too deeply at and through myself. Blinking at the reflection and she's still there, of course, not a ghost. Laughing gently at my wide eyed shock.

"You know." Stepping into the room, coming up beside, one arm snaking around my waist, head on my shoulder. "It's been like ten minutes." Thinking. "Twelve at the most, and here you are, ready."
"Ssspppptttt." Nodding, because I am, ready. Still somewhat damp, hair an absolute mess. But ready, and in a moment I'd of been walking back downstairs.

"Were you," glancing at the bathtub, the puddles of water scattered around it, and the crumpled towel, all evidence of the fact, "rushing?"
"Ddpppgggmm." Blinking, small nod. "Pppffssnnrr."
"Did you really...."

Laughing, stepping off me and half turning.

Suddenly sobering up, turning back.

"If I remove your gag, will you talk to me?"
"Ssspppptttt." She'd sounded half playful, the earlier threat, carried out and now I'm gagged. But, she'd sounded serious too.

Standing, patient and still as Kira unbuckles me, tossing the ballgag into the still containing water bath.

"There." Hugging me again, hand lower though, gripping my buttcheek and pulling us together. "Better?"
"Yes?" My answer made a question due to the fact I didn't, don't hate being gagged. So, is it better?

I don't care, am equally content either way.

"You rushed."
"Yes." Wriggling, the ropes, now wet are rubbing against my drying skin, and I can literally feel the burn marks they're creating. "Because I didn't want to end up in the garden."

Half truthful, half a lie.

"But I wouldn't." Laughing some more, like shocked. "I mean, I...." Laughter drying up, mouth opening wider, a shocked expression crossing her pretty face.

"But you wouldn't let me...?"
"I'm bound." Flexing my trussed arms, which pulls at the various ropes, causing my F cups to bounce. "And I was gagged." Offering Kira a small smile. "How was I supposed to stop you?"
"But...."
"Did you want to hogtie me in." Stopping to shiver, to swallow. Everything seeming suddenly real. "Did you want to abandon me in the garden all night?"
"I." Her turn to shiver. "Wanted to punish you. Somehow."
"Well then." Another flex.

See, I'm helpless.

"What was stopping you?"

Staring at her, silence rolling in following my words, staring at Kira's reflection as she likewise stares at mine. Thoughtful expression on her face and maybe she realises, now, how willing I am to play along. How few, if any limits might be imposed, by me, on this dangerous obsession of hers.

Which might- that knowledge in her hands -not be a good thing.

Wordlessly, not offering or asking, Kira finds a towel and finishes the act of drying me, properly. And whilst this involves all kinds of body contact: rubbing and reaching all around and over every part of me, she doesn't linger, doesn't overstep into foreplay. Taking all the towels away afterwards, me waiting, breathing a little fast, tingles in the belly caused by this unexpected intimate yet girlfriend like- caring -attention.

Remaining bound. Not asking, Kira not offering, returning and much later I'll find the towels hung carefully to dry. Brush in hand she proceeds to untangle and sort out my hair, long gentle strokes, standing behind and by the time she's finished my nipples are so hard it's painful, almost throbbing from her lack of direct, sexual attention, yet she's been touching me for almost a half hour.

A single kiss to the cheek, from behind leaning in, and I go to turn in but she's already stepping back, leaving and so my lips catch only the wind caused by her passing.

Following Kira, still without speaking, downstairs, wrists and arms chaffing at the ropes, now dry but the ropes aren't, wetness pressing tight and digging in, rubbing at my F cups too, each move I make, each step causing rope to breast contact, keeping my nipples hard.

Waiting whilst she fumbles with the unfamiliar remotes, firing up my flatscreen and eventually sitting on one side of the three seater, not looking at nor gesturing me to anywhere in particular: beside her, away from her.

Binding me on the floor, or in the next room. A thing I- doomed, Brooke -think I made clear she can do.

Sitting slowly, carefully down beside her, allowing myself to sink into the soft fabric of the sofa, leaning back. Rewarded moments later by Kira's hand, moving to rest on my closest leg. A brief squeeze of acknowledgement that- like in the bathroom -despite not being sexual nonetheless still causes a degree of elation within.

Watching whatever she chooses, making small talk as time stretches. Kira's focus appearing to be on the screen, her hand remaining- mostly -on my leg but it doesn't stroke, or stray elsewhere. And none of our talk is of a bondage or playful nature.

A complete lack of intimacy, not even staring, no acknowledgement of my state, my nakedness. Even the occasional chest thrusting stretch- those fucking ropes, which I'm loving but damn they rub -is met with anything beyond a glance. And it's only later I'll realise the trick.

Clever girl.

Only tomorrow will I come to see what Kira managed to pull off, and far from hating her I'll be impressed, far from wanting to push her away my acknowledgement only serves to complete the loop, putting her deeper into my thoughts as I clearly- because of her quite obvious obsession -stand centre stage in hers.

Bound and gagged of course.

What Kira does is ignore me to the point I, despite being bound, make all the moves. She feigns a lack of interest, in me, to the point I basically throw myself at her, pushing me deeper into the hole of being willing to do anything she wants, or desires.

It's been so long since anyone cared, really cared, and took care of me in turn. I get bound all the time, groped and fucked- in some fashion -and used, all the damn time. And I love it but. But, I honestly can't remember the last time someone actually looked after me the way Kira did in the bathroom.

And forget the fact I'm bound, that doesn't alter what happened, because for me being bound- gagged, immobile and helpless -is a way of life, something I willingly choose.

What breaks the dam, for the second time today is that she'd genuinely cared, for me.

Like a girlfriend would.

And it's been so long. Kira might not know how alone and solitary my life is, but, to go months without, those few moments in front of the mirror, combined with the normality of sitting, talking and not being used. What it does is make me want her to a degree and in a manner I haven't felt in so long, turning the dial on my feelings for Kira up, into and through the red.

It's almost, close to perhaps sitting on the fence looking down into, love.

End credits rolling, and we've sat through a whole movie that I can't remember much about, too busy talking, enjoying Kira's company. Too busy feeling and focusing on those swelling feelings. Kira shifting, small stretch and yawn, reaching for the remote but even as she moves, I'm moving too.

Standing, Kira's mouth beginning to open yet whatever she was about to say emerges as nothing more then a garbled half sentence.

"What are y-"

Cut off, hurriedly uncrossing her legs as my intentions become clear, arms falling limp to her sides and watching, small smile on her pretty face as I climb onto her lap, straddling her, my own legs either side of hers, shuffling in close, enough my F cups are grazing at the front of Kira's- my, but she's wearing it -loosely belted robe.

Not waiting for permission, not until that final moment, already leaning in head slightly tilted, lips about to make contact and I pause. Pulling back, unsure.

If I'm allowed? If she wants to? Like a schoolgirl with a crush, having finally worked up to do it, to make the move and now I'm dithering.

"I...."
"If you don't kiss me." Voice a soft whisper, full of gently teasing humour, making what could actually be a threat come out playful. "I'll assume you don't like me, and therefore I've got no use for you, and you can spend the night locked in cuffs and gagged, out in the barn. Instead of cuddled in bed with me."

Feeling my heart race as her words sink in, breath catching at the threat. Kira's eyes on mine in the semi darkness of the room as she delivers her ultimatum.

The pause stretching out, eyes lost in hers and Kira hasn't yet touched me, as though waiting, for me.

Slowly I lean in, hesitant, Kira's lips parting at the final moment, kissing me back her hands coming up, one to grip around my waist her other placed higher, cupping one breast.

Kissing, tongues exploring, the kiss wet, long. Feeling passion rise as the moment draws on, feeling my want of her reciprocated, reaching down to fumble and undo her belt, throwing the robe open before resuming her grip on me. Pulling me into her even whilst I'm already leaning in, seeking and desperate for that skin on skin full body contact.

Switching, and like before in my hotel room the shift is sudden and unexpected, and tomorrow, having a thoughtful reflective day, trying to understand. Tomorrow I'll consider that these moments, Kira bound when she obviously, clearly relishes being in charge of me.

I'll consider and ponder whether these are actually for two separate reasons: Kira, testing the water, as it were, feeling out the level of her control, proving to herself that even whilst bound she's still in charge. Alongside which there's a high chance she, part of the obsession revolves around being my little bitch, when she chooses.

Because I'm yet to tie her up without first having been given permission, have yet to take the lead- beyond small things -or do anything other then what she wanted, once she's bound.

"Bedtime?"
"Late." Talking between kisses, coming up for air and I nod at her question. "Yes."
"Lock me up."
"What?"

Confused, because I'm tied and like always, with anyone, I'd expected to remain such.

"Lock me up." And like last time there she goes, impatient and already in motion, standing and pushing me up as she comes. "I want to sleep with you, cuddle me, whilst I'm locked in my cuffs."
"And." Shaking myself. Focus, Brooke. "Gagged."
"No gag." Shaking her head, and at no point does it occur to me I can override her wishes, do as I please like she does me.

Freed of rope, we head to my room via the bathroom, because of teeth and other necessities. Once there Kira shrugs off my robe before climbing into bed, laying still whilst I lock her own cuffs back around ankles and wrists, keeping the latter in front though both for comfort and because it'll be easier to cuddle her.

Joining her, pulling the duvet over us both and positioning myself behind Kira, hugging her into me one hand tracing idle patterns on her belly, the other loosely cupping a breast.

Falling asleep quickly, no talking, no kissing and no foreplay, definitely no sex which I'd been half expecting, the day having felt charged from the off.

Finding Kira gone in the morning, like magic, or a ghost. No sign of her. Different from last time, when I'd woken bound, gagged and potentially abandoned, this time I wake alone, but free of bondage.

And because she isn't my girlfriend, wasn't invited and is still- despite how intimate we've repeatedly gotten -basically a stranger whose life I don't know, there's no note, no goodbye. Not even a WhatsApp, which I couldn't send anyway due to not having her number.

[BlissfulMisery]

Stop giving me ideas

Fair. Probably could've made bikes into a somewhat third, even within the confines of what I've written above: Kira showing up at a biker meet, on a bike?

But I love the naked and cuffed on a tree stump entrance

Fair enough As I mentioned before, really liked the power-play aspect of it myself.

-

Not understanding the dynamic either. Liking it, Kira's blatant- and I haven't said it, and she hasn't said it, but what else do you call it -stalking and obsession with me is new, and like a rope slut slash surrender junkie I'm drinking it in, but I don't understand it. Are there rules? Should I not- stupid question, which I ignore -be letting her control our interactions?

When she's bound, I find myself loving it, wanting her, wanting to use her, to own her. And yet, once she isn't, like now, I feel small, and nervous, unwilling to do anything save what I'm told.

Love this part - captures Brooke's uncertainty well, plus the whole general odd nature of, as she points out herself, whatever this whole dynamic between her and Kira is supposed to be. No real rules, no clear boundaries which is dangerous of course, and yet exactly due to that danger, oh so very alluring.

To which order but not an order, but not a suggestion either.

Ah, a case of 'Schrödinger's statement' - it being an order versus a suggestion being based on the superposition of how submissive one is feeling in the given moment

Slight fidget from Kira, as we briefly face off and perhaps she'd been expecting a fight, a flat refusal to play? Perhaps she still doesn't believe the unlimited nature of the control and power she wields over me. That I'm too into this game to do anything other then what I'm told.

Is she flying blind too? And to be fair I very much doubt she's a professional stalker. Ha, as if such a thing existed. Probably Kira is as clueless regarding the limits and rules as me, she's pushing, waiting for me to push back.

Waiting for the- her, and I'm inflating my own ego, I realise, making myself out to be some great thing, a star worth obsessing over -dream to end, for me to get angry or to simply call the police.

The really bad thing here is that a part of me wants, craves the thought of losing, of being forced outside, hogtied on the wet grass and left there overnight, in the dark and the cold. The problem here, though I don't see it as such, is that there are no limits.

Again, really like this whole section. Quite the (fun and yet scary) mess they have both stumbled (or perhaps dove headfirst) into.

"What was stopping you?"

A simple statement, but very impactful. Brooke breaking the unspoken rule of not talking about 'it', the exact nature and limits of power dynamics like this. Brings out a certain paradox, where in some cases having more rules and structure to it can make it feel much less magical, and yet obviously they can be needed in order to avoid things going too far/getting out of hand in the heat of the moment.

And to give an actual answer to Brooke's question - 'the fact that she cares about you'.

A single kiss to the cheek, from behind leaning in, and I go to turn in but she's already stepping back, leaving and so my lips catch only the wind caused by her passing.

Love this description.

What Kira does is ignore me to the point I, despite being bound, make all the moves. She feigns a lack of interest, in me, to the point I basically throw myself at her, pushing me deeper into the hole of being willing to do anything she wants, or desires.

A manipulation tactic as old as time. Makes me wonder how consciously Kira is doing it. Have more to say on all that, but it is probably outside the scope of this story/thread.

It's been so long since anyone cared, really cared, and took care of me in turn. I get bound all the time, groped and fucked- in some fashion -and used, all the damn time. And I love it but. But, I honestly can't remember the last time someone actually looked after me the way Kira did in the bathroom.

Only quoting part for brevity, but a very touching bit of internal monologue.

"I...."
"If you don't kiss me." Voice a soft whisper, full of gently teasing humour, making what could actually be a threat come out playful. "I'll assume you don't like me, and therefore I've got no use for you, and you can spend the night locked in cuffs and gagged, out in the barn. Instead of cuddled in bed with me."

Probably the most dominant way I have ever read/heard someone ask for/demand a kiss

And of course Kira ghosting her way out of Brooke's life just as suddenly as she arrived. Just the right kind of mixed signals to leave poor Brooke wondering and obsessing back...

Apologies for quoting/commenting a little too much, but it was difficult to choose what to highlight versus let be (as it often goes I suppose). A lot of food for thought, too, even if indirectly/even if it might not have been the point.

[RopeBunny]

Love this part - captures Brooke's uncertainty well, plus the whole general odd nature of, as she points out herself, whatever this whole dynamic between her and Kira is supposed to be. No real rules, no clear boundaries which is dangerous of course, and yet exactly due to that danger, oh so very alluring.

Uncharted water for me here, which may create additional in story explanation and thought, from Brooke/Plymouth. I've never written an obsessed or stalker angle. So am building, slowly up towards something whilst still being a little unsure exactly what

How deep/crazy will Kira become?

I'm having fun finding out, hoping you all are too

It's been so long since anyone cared, really cared, and took care of me in turn. I get bound all the time, groped and fucked- in some fashion -and used, all the damn time. And I love it but. But, I honestly can't remember the last time someone actually looked after me the way Kira did in the bathroom.

Only quoting part for brevity, but a very touching bit of internal monologue.

And of course another twist and layer to it all. The fact of Brooke beginning to fall for Kira, manipulated, in part into having feelings, into wanting and missing her.

"I...."
"If you don't kiss me." Voice a soft whisper, full of gently teasing humour, making what could actually be a threat come out playful. "I'll assume you don't like me, and therefore I've got no use for you, and you can spend the night locked in cuffs and gagged, out in the barn. Instead of cuddled in bed with me."

Probably the most dominant way I have ever read/heard someone ask for/demand a kiss

Liked this, as a thought of idea whilst writing. So much of what I do tends to flow out. There's always a base plan, a guide for chapters of A to B, where I want events to go, what overall I'm attempting to achieve.

But, the road I travel, the chapter I write can and frequently does meander as it heads towards B. And the repetition of the (playful?) threat, from Kira, severe bondage based retribution if Brooke doesn't do as she's told. I loved the thought of it, whilst writing, and so there it is.

[RopeBunny]

Interlude.
Making calls.

"Wickwar, good morning. How may I direct your call?"
"Good morning." Failing to match her too perky tones. "Could you patch me through to Mr Black, please."
"Can I ask who's calling?"
"Brooke."
"One moment Brooke."

Waiting, staring out over Owl, coffee in hand and I'll miss this place. The quiet of a morning, the endorphin high and aching muscles, the aftermath of surveying a task completed.

"Brooke?"
"Yes."
"Yes?" Samuel. Sam, hopefulness in his tone. "So you're...?"
"In. Yes." Smile spreading, feeling good now I've committed, pointed at one of two possible futures. "I have a condition though."
"Name it."

Not sounding phased, upset or worried. Legally he can't proceed without me, though I doubt that means I could ask for anything, business is business after all. Cash is king.

But I think I- might of -just made Sam's day.

"I want to bring in a second."
"An assistant?"
"An associate." Almost laughing, the thought of her beneath me on the hierarchy pole, and she literally has been: beneath me.

Which further thought is what kills the humour, be professional, Brooke.

"Well." Thoughtful, and I wait, ready to fight my corner. "Your accommodation does have two bedrooms."
"Which we'll be happy to share." Not that I've even asked Fayth, pitched to her.

Roping- ha -my friend in without even asking her permission.

"And as an associate, she'll." Brief pause. "Of course I'm assuming it's a lady?"
"It. She is."
"Not trying to get the boyfriend on the payroll?"
"Ha." Because I'd clearly heard the slight teasing in Sam's tone. "No boys for me Sam, and no. She's just a friend."

Who I've slept with, played with. But, a friend.

"I can't offer her the same package as you, of course."
"Of course."

Spending the following five minutes in a somewhat lively back and forth, debating salary and extras. Me negotiating on Fayth's behalf for a job she might not even want, the humour of it all almost bringing laughter at least twice.

I know what she earns though, roughly, because I know Fayth's modelling rates, so I aim at or slightly above what she likely makes currently, within the unpredictable world of adult modelling, Sam and me coming to an agreement, roughly two thirds of my own base salary, plus the shared use of my, now our- utilities being free, too -free accommodation, but without the additional bonuses I'm due, should this work out as intended.

As Sam, and now me, hopes.

Thinking as our negotiations come to a satisfactory close, that shared accommodation, and our shared past.

"Perfect, thank you Sam."
"Pleasure Brooke. How soon might we see you here?"
"Couple of weeks." Time to give my notice and pack, to tie- ha -up loose ends. "Is that okay?"
"The accommodation is already waiting, just keep me in the loop."
"Will do."

Hanging up, pang of sadness at a door closing, but tempered by the great yawning expanse of the unknown, unfolding and now stretching out before me.

And trees, well. I can always seek out volunteer work.

-------

-------

"Brooke." Waving at me, sunlight pouring in behind, that San Francisco weather and am I really going to ask Fayth to give all that up for wet and windy England?

Yes.

"Hi you."
"Good to see you Fayth." Blowing her a kiss, smiling, these long distance video calls are a regular event, a fortnightly occurrence we both look forward too, I've only been friends with Fayth for three, possibly approaching four years now but she's counted amongst my closest.

The knowledge, the continued proof that she views me with an equal level of- love -friendship warms my soul.

For over a half hour we talk, her life my life, comings and goings and the occasional humour filled dip into a shared past of scattered events and meetings. There's an ease to our friendship, we've fucked, both on camera and off, we've bound and been bound by, again both on camera and off. So much potential complication and yet for us it adds colour. Adds a deeper level.

"So. Fayth."
"No." Laughing immediately afterwards, harder as I flip her off.

"What's the sell, Brooke?"

Listening, actually stopping me to grab a pad and pen, taking notes without even saying yes. Scribbling and nodding, telling me she's in without even saying the words.

Warming my soul.

Asking questions, a bare few because I've already covered everything. Teasing me though, for basically agreeing on her behalf, which I did.

"But I knew you'd come."
"Knew?"
"Hoped."
"And how could I resist," flashing me a halfway cheeky grin, "someone's got to keep you from winding up in a dungeon, or a cage."
"Hey." Mock outrage. "That cage had a really thick, comfortable blanket."
"Honestly," laughing, "might just have to chain you to the bed after dark."
"Promises promises." Laughing too, all whilst feeling a little tingle. Old memories of her, of us, leaking through.

Knowing from Fayth's body language, unconsciously leaning slightly forward, angling to show more cleavage, one hand half rising towards her breasts. Knowing she's remembering too.

Fun times.

"Can't say how soon."
"Roughly?"
"Three weeks." Seesawing hand. "Or one? Kind of between a whole bunch of this and that right now."
"Soon as you can." A shrug. "I'll be there in two." Holding up two fingers, Fayth nodding, making another note. "Sooner you join me, sooner we can properly go at it."
"See what I can do, Brooke."
"Thanks Fayth."

Saying our goodbyes, happy to have her on board.

[RopeBunny]

012a.

No good impressions today.

Riding the Hayabusa into headquarters car park, heavy on the revs and people staring, and me grinning beneath the sealed helmet. I may no longer be mad, but neither do I care what anyone here thinks, about me.

Which means today I'm all Plymouth, letting her out: jeans and boots, essential on the bike as is my jacket. However, the dark blue jeans are low rise, out of which a purple thong rides up. And my cropped top is very cropped, white with short sleeves and a tee style neckline, it barely covers my F cups, hugging and moulded, revealing the complete lack of a bra underneath. Shark mouth ink almost completely visible between tee and jeans, hair unbound, lips painted dark red.

No appointment, but I've checked, dug around and Laura should be here. And if not, my notice is all written up, folded and ready to be hand delivered to her desk instead.

"Help you?" The same young black haired girl from before, appraising me since I came into view and I can see quite clearly the dislike, possibly she's wondering how I got through main reception.

Charm, plus the fact I do- for now -work here.

"Pl." Brooke, shouting at myself, causing a flashed smile which she returns with a scowl. "Brooke, from Owl. Is Mrs Castleford available?"
"For...?"
"For me."

Height advantage, both hands on the desktop, jacket and helmet left at reception and I'm leaning forward, F cups almost touching her- still sitting -face. Inching back and I resist the urge to lean in more, to climb over the desk and.

Back it down girl.

"Why don't we call her and see." Finding my best smile, tapping one long fingernail against the phone. The stare off brief, and as she comes forward, reaching for the phone I stand up straight, returning her personal space.

"Mrs Castleford." Not Laura? Interesting. "I've got Brooke here, from Owl." Flashed glance at me. "Without an appointment that's right."

Together we both wait, a handful of seconds and her growing smile says she thinks I'm out of luck.

"Are you...." Frowning, and my smile growing. "Yes, of course." Hanging up, blinking at me and pointing at the only doors anywhere close by, which I have been through before, I do know the way. "You can go through."
"Perfect."

Laura's office as remembered, plants scattered throughout, views from the wrap around window out across various car parks and other buildings nearby. And Laura, not rising this time but she does look up, eyes flashing wide and mouth opening, closing, an unasked question as I cross the room.

Hint of a black bra, teasing flash of lace the deep plunging front of her blue dress, sleeveless but long, the- looks, the whole dress looks made of something partly elastic, hugging and shifting -hem around her ankles, barefoot. Natural red hair tied back.

"Plymouth?" Like disbelief, shaking herself and blinking. "Brooke, I mean."
"S' okay." Shrugging. "I'll let you off." Dropping down into the centre of Laura's arranged chairs, on my side of the desk, propping outstretched arms across the backs of the other two. Smiling.

"Thanks for seeing me."
"It was." Picking up a pen, fumbling it, small nervous sounding laugh escaping her lips. "I," placing a hand atop the rolling pen, silencing it, "wasn't busy."
"No?"
"Well." A shrug, picking up and dropping a small pile of papers. "Paperwork. But."
"Right."

"I assume you're here about the Ranger position?"
"Yes. And." Shaking my head. "No. Thank you, but I'm going to decline."

Taking out the folded sheet, placing it atop Laura's desk before returning my arms to the chair backs.

"Oh." Staring down at my notice, back up at me and making no move to collect the folded sheet. "Can I ask why?"
"I've had further offers." Thinking, choosing my words, smile becoming cheeky because: Laura knows, so. "I'm going to be just Plymouth for awhile."
"I can see that." Smiling back, and.

Is she flirting? Pushing? To what end?

I can push too.

"You've." Very deliberately spreading my legs wide and wishing I were wearing less then skinny fit jeans, F cups shifting, accentuated as I roll both arms on the chair backs. "Watched me."
"Yes."
"Because of the Commission?" Raising an eyebrow, cheeky. "For research?"
"No." Shaking her head, small shiver that almost chases across the space to me, something definitely building. "I watched you, for me."

Watching now as I stand. Nervous lick of her lips as I come- stride -around the desk, stepping over her leg's and climbing up, sitting myself on Laura's desk, level with her both feet dangling.

"Married?" Picking up her pen, twirling it between the fingers of one hand.

"No." And un-resisting as I shuffle forward, placing my butt, crotch right on the desk edge, bringing booted feet around left and right, snaring Laura's chair and dragging it, her, into my orbit. Feet crossed behind the chair back, Laura's legs wedged under her desk, body pressed against the desk front, and inches away my own body.

Her arms resting on the chair arms, mine resting in my lap.

"Boyfriend?"
"Ex." Small spit of venom to her words. "Wife."
"Right."

Small pause. Laura appearing, for all her flirting back she seems frozen in place. Unsure.

"Thought you might like a closer look." Breasts and crotch, my whole self right there and I've no clue where I'm going with this? I'd felt flirty, daring, and in the moment had decided to roll with it. "At me."
"Kind of you." Trying a smile, looking up at me, tearing eyes off my large very obvious- braless and the tee is very snug -breasts.

"I look better bound though."
"Would it be rude to agree?"
"Nope."
"Well then, yes." Nodding, swallowing and finding some courage. "Particularly sexy trussed into a hogtie, wearing a ballgag."

Reaching out, one hand and running a finger across my lips, shivering at the same time I do. Bringing her finger back, turning a line into a curving circle of my mouth, which I open slightly. Sucking Laura's finger as it slides inside.

"In." Withdrawing her finger, neck looking flushed. "My opinion."
"I do enjoy a tight hogtie."
"For," blinking, "real?"
"Bondage isn't just for shoots." Sensing the kill, a possible ending presenting and I close in. "It's for other places too."

Catching Laura's gaze and very deliberately looking around.

"For." Smile growing. "Bondage is for offices?"
"Today." Hooked, I proceed to reel Laura in. "Yes."
"But." Frowning. "Why?"
"Because I'm horny." A shrug, and what else matters? "Because I think you want to?"
"Yes."
"Well then." Lifting her phone, handing it over.

"Ruth. Can yo-" Stuttering, blinking and pulling the hand I just casually placed atop my breast back as though burned. Shivering, deep breath whilst I giggle, softly. Playful.

"Can you go downstairs, fetch the crate from V.K Supplies, bring it up." Pausing, small shake of her head. "No. Ask Tim in loading to put it on a cart and bring it here yourself. Thanks."

"V.K?"
"Victor Kilo." Calmer, no longer looking or sounding flustered by my way to close proximity. "It's phonetic."
"Like Romeo?"
"Echo, Whisky." Nodding. "V.K are our go to supplier for about a third of the Commissions small scale non mechanical equipment. Including rope."
"Oh."
"Indeed."

Bold, older and more experienced granted, but it takes something, confidence. Laura reaches out, slowly lifting and pulling my tee up, exposing both pert and roughly moon sized breasts. Small indrawn breath- from her -as my F cups bounce and settle, and throughout I haven't moved, legs still pinning Laura's chair to her desk, pinning her against it, my hands resting on the desk.

Raising them now, my hands, arms. Small encouraging smile and I honestly did not plan any of this, did not come here today dressed as Plymouth in hopes of luring Laura into binding me.

Can't say I'm unhappy though.

Raising my arms and letting Laura lift my too small tee all the way off. And sometime later, Ruth back kicking open the office door before reversing through, four wheeled cage sided blue cart pulled along behind. By this point I've certainly forgotten we were due company, and based off my state- completely naked, stripped item by item by Laura, taking obvious pleasure in doing so -it seems Laura forgot too.

Both of us turning to look, Laura emitting a quiet gasp of shock, blushing at having been caught no doubt. Whilst I simply smile, at Ruth, who'd turned to look into the office, her own mouth dropping wide at the no doubt completely unexpected scene, and I'm still sat on Laura's desk, only now my legs are dangling whilst she's standing, chair pushed back.

Head only now raised, having spent the past minute sucking on and flicking her tongue over my nipple, breast gripped in one hand.

Stumbling back and half falling into her seat whilst I, sensing Laura's embarrassment, her indecision I slide and bounce off the desk, coming around the side and advancing on Ruth.

"Hello."
"Naked."
"Indeed." Grinning. "Want to join me?"
"What?" Voice raised, eyes wide. Rooted to the spot.

"You're." Pointing, like an accusation. "Plymouth."
"Why yes?" Turning, looking at Laura, making my reply a question, aimed at her.

"One of Ruth's duties is to manage the employee files." Waving a vague hand at her desk, my file. "So."
"So you knew." Attention back on Ruth, who visibly flinches.

Is that why the apparent attitude?

"Is that the rope?"
"Oh." Reaching for the crate, a plastic thing and quite large, possibly a metre by half by half, carry handles on the narrow sides and a lid that I get to first, pulling off to reveal.

"Christmas."
"Huh."
"Be a good girl and sit down." Waving at the nearest seat, giving Ruth a small push when she doesn't move.

"Why?" Having walked to the seat, the far right of the three in front of Ruth's desk. Stopping, turning to face me on hand on the back cushion. "I mean."
"So I can bind you to it."
"What?" Voice rising again, more shock and I can't help grinning back.

"I."
"Leave then." A carefree shrug, Laura somewhat spellbound, I can see her in my corner vision, watching. "Doors right there." Pointing, with the coiled rope now in my hand. "Or."

Crossing the small space between me and Ruth, dangling the rope in her face.

"Stay, I'll bind you to the chair and then you get to watch Laura bind me."

A stretched pause, Laura opening her mouth and something muffled emerging. The beginnings of words, nothing intelligible. And, very slowly as though afraid the seat might catch fire, Ruth sits down.

Early twenties, but Ruth's as big as I am skinny, opposite ends of the scale. A twenty plus, belly and D cups pressed tight against a low scooped dark green dress, thin shoulder straps half buried in her flesh, the dress hugs Ruth all the way down to an above the knee hem. Black hair cut short, styled to flick out at all angles.

The rope, factory fresh is still in long uncut but coiled lengths. Got to be one or two hundred feet each. White, with a smooth outer skin.

In the zone, binding Ruth quickly, effectively, and she seems confused, somewhat disorientated by the experience. Into it, moaning quietly, louder once I've gagged her. Very clearly getting at least some pleasure from the ropes, and my attentions.

Wrists crossed in her lap, doubling the rope and feeding it through the small loop at halfway, takes fucking forever but, pulled tight Ruth's wrists click together, and with two more individual- one half of the long rope wrapping one direction, the other going opposite -wraps, plus three knots. Her wrists are bound.

Using the rope to lift and pull her wrists, arms, back. Bringing them over the chair back and from now on I'll be wrapping separately, left and right as I did to finish off her wrists.

The chairs have a square plush seat and concave back, four wooden legs. Having run the ropes down and around the back legs, preventing Ruth bringing her arms back upwards, forcing her to remain in this pose, I run the ropes around the seat and her body, wrapping above and below her breasts, her waist.

Pinning her body in place, after which I take turns, left leg then right, using what's left of the rope to bind Ruth's ankles to the rear chair legs, forcing her legs to spread, her dress to ride up exposing lace heavy pink brazilian style pants.

Using the very last half dozen metres of the right hand half, hard to be accurate with so much rope. Bringing this final stretch upwards, making it a gag, wrapped around Ruth's head, pressing inside her mouth. Increasing those moans.

In the zone. Reaching in to yank and pull Ruth's dress further up, and further, pulling and yanking, taking her pink bra with it and yes, Ruth struggles and moans, but there's no shaking her head. No massive protests as I strip her down to just pink pants, dress and bra hanging down around her bound wrists.

Glancing back, having heard and half seen, not surprised therefore to find Laura naked, sat on her chair with legs spread wide, finger teasing at her clit other hand caressing a breast. Watching me.

Giving Ruth's right nipple a single kiss, I step back, away. Laura standing as I do, fetching rope and directing me to lay down over in the window lit corner, by the yucca. Within easy sight of Ruth.

Interested to see how she does, because there is a difference between liking bondage and knowing how.

Laura winds up halfway cocooning me, to which I'd laugh if I hadn't been so horny from the whole thing, hadn't been gagged quite early on.

Using one length to bind my left wrist to my left upper thigh, finding shorter- still long, but less so -lengths from somewhere within the crate. Fetching a whole separate length to do the same to my right wrist. Gagging me with a third, being harsher then I was with Ruth and I don't mind, excitement or she genuinely doesn't realise, it's fine. Having the ropes tugged too hard, digging in all over my exposed skin, at the corners of my mouth.

For me it all adds to the thrill.

A fourth rope for my ankles, after which I hear- but can't see, laid on my belly -her laugh, perhaps realising the mistake: the floor covered in trailing ropes. But rather then removing any of them Laura instead wraps me up, using each rope in turn, crisscrossing my body up and down, frequently pulling tight and sealing me in with knots.

Somehow managing, actually, to semi hogtie me at the end, using the ends of a rope, currently down at my ankles, pulling and I feel- protesting due to all the tightly wrapped ropes -my body bending and arching on command. Legs forced up and over, Laurs binding them off somewhere around my upper back.

Spending forever, it feels like, body on fire from all the pinching ropes, limbs aching from being bent whilst constricted so. Laura enjoying me, and I had told her too. Watching me struggle and moan, even bound Ruth watching me. Laying down to feel me up, to tease at my clit and nipples. Making me climax twice, appearing to love every moment of it.

Freeing me, helping me stand and, once I'm dressed patting my notice, still sitting folded and unopened on her desk. A nod of understanding which I return.

Leaving. Passing no comment on the fact of Ruth, still tightly trussed to the chair as I close the door behind me.

[RopeBunny]

012a.

Just as an aside.

12a, not 12. Because I wrote all this, and then in a fit of being really into it, feeling quite up for and frustrated by a lack of real world TUGs I almost.

Al. Most.

Went and rewrote the entire back end of the chapter. Basically something along the lines of Laura casting Brooke out, giving her to Ruth, or simply Ruth taking over, owning both Brooke and Laura.

I even entertained brief thoughts of Brooke somehow being sent back to Owl in a crate.

None of which works particularly well, in the 'real' world. And plus it would've been several chapters, and I was equally keen to move the story along.

So no.

But I wanted to mention it anyway, give a small insight into the mind of the Rope Bunny x

[tickletied84]

Brooke in a crate would have been quite the twist!

I continue to love this story - the mix of teasing/flirting/uncertainty when Brooke is bound, to the confidence of Plymouth - it has everything!