Stories of Tie Up Games

tickletied84 wrote: 1 month ago
Enjoyed the fleeting evil thought of leaving Dorothy tied up, but glad the thoughtful Brooke returned to counteract it!

Indeed and I could've gone for it, had Brooke walk away.

Probably could've even recovered from it, kept the Dorothy/Brooke dynamic going despite it, the whole thing becoming a teasing back and forth instead of revenge.

But I'm glad she returned too.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
This was my original idea, the base premise that everything else slowly grew out of.

Upset- at myself -for what I'd done to Plymouth, seeking a way back in. A new tale. And my first good thought was to pair Brooke with someone from outside the industry, for Brooke to date a non model, non rigger.

The old 'if doing one thing over and over is not working out, maybe I should actually try something different'? What a strangely rational thought for Brooke to have

-

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago So it's to be something more, then? Aiming higher then a simple fuck, aiming to begin building towards that deeper connection.

Which I'll almost certainly fuck up, given my track record, but it's bad luck to mention such things on a first date.

Oof. I mean, I can understand where she is coming from, but it is a painfully unhealthy way to think about yourself/frame ones past experiences.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "Pretty."
"You think?" Glancing down at herself, smiling whilst blushing harder.

"I do." Crossing the room, coming back and after scooping up the remote, sitting down next to her.

Nah, obviously Brooke came over to tie her up while having *zero* interest

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago I could spend a half hour telling her all the other pie chart divided parts to the fun, of bondage.

Ah, but doing so would spark an endless debate on the optimal ingredients and recipe for said pie (chart)

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "Dorothy." Smiling, a lazy aroused thing. Kissing the top of her breast. "I am going to fuck you so hard you'll need this just to stop the neighbours complaining."

Do not think it is playing fair to say something like that to someone you have bound so thoroughly (well, at least from Dorothy's perspective, not Brooke's )

tickletied84 wrote: 1 month ago Only broken girls, like me, like being abandoned in helpless bondage.

And 'oof' yet again. Feel like Brooke *really* needs to talk all this out in some serious depth with someone. And like she could use at least a dozen hugs.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Except, reminding myself: Dorothy isn't necessarily into the ropes in the same way as me, she hasn't the long history, isn't a surrender junkie or a lover of binding and gagging, of owning. Certainly she's had fun, tonight, but she isn't desperate for it the way I am.

See, and this is where normally I would say that it makes little sense to be with someone where you have to deny a core part of yourself like that. But then again, the other way around has only succeeded in bringing her to a dark place, mentally. Hopefully she finds some sort of balance.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Unrecognised number, of course. Two messages, sent late last night. The first an image: Fayth, trussed into a tight rope hogtie, back arched, laid naked on her side breasts and pussy pushed, thrust towards the camera. Hooded, the same hood I wore for Kira. Fayth's mouth open slightly. Her whole body is covered in graffiti, black permanent marker, the same handwriting but all different sizes, as though someone- Kira, and who else, really -wanted to cover every.

Mmm, this is where one would usually call the police

But pesky details like 'safety' aside, seems Fayth could not handle Kira either. Which leaves poor Brooke more or less alone to deal with the person who has a concerningly solid foothold in some of the darkest parts of her psyche... (the darkness in this case being the self-depricating aspects that have become entwined with it, not the bondage on its own)

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Well....

See below

Well...

I saw.

And I worry for Brooke, in more ways then one

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago So it's to be something more, then? Aiming higher then a simple fuck, aiming to begin building towards that deeper connection.

Which I'll almost certainly fuck up, given my track record, but it's bad luck to mention such things on a first date.

Oof. I mean, I can understand where she is coming from, but it is a painfully unhealthy way to think about yourself/frame ones past experiences.

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

tickletied84 wrote: 1 month ago Only broken girls, like me, like being abandoned in helpless bondage.

And 'oof' yet again. Feel like Brooke *really* needs to talk all this out in some serious depth with someone. And like she could use at least a dozen hugs.

Partly my fault, these inner observations from Brooke. Probably writing too many, too frequent, but that's what comes from writing chapter by chapter as opposed a whole novel, which you could then go through and remove at least some of the repetition.

The aim here is to show the downward spiral, the low before the eventual- hopeful -high of Dorothy, a proper and safe relationship.

Which of course I shan't guarantee but which is perhaps what Brooke deserves, to be happy, to be well treated.

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago I could spend a half hour telling her all the other pie chart divided parts to the fun, of bondage.

Ah, but doing so would spark an endless debate on the optimal ingredients and recipe for said pie (chart)

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Except, reminding myself: Dorothy isn't necessarily into the ropes in the same way as me, she hasn't the long history, isn't a surrender junkie or a lover of binding and gagging, of owning. Certainly she's had fun, tonight, but she isn't desperate for it the way I am.

See, and this is where normally I would say that it makes little sense to be with someone where you have to deny a core part of yourself like that. But then again, the other way around has only succeeded in bringing her to a dark place, mentally. Hopefully she finds some sort of balance.

And again, as above. Aiming to highlight the Dorothy/Kira differences, and whilst your point is valid, because nobody should have to bury an aspect of themselves in order to be happy. I'd say it's fair, and even good- healthy -for Brooke if she were with someone who didn't want to do bondage ALL the time

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago
But pesky details like 'safety' aside, seems Fayth could not handle Kira either.

This was a point where I could've closed out the Kira angle, written in both because I liked the angle and dynamic of Fayth offering to help, but mostly as a potential out.

Fayth managing to end Kira's obsession.

But I continued writing (am still a couple of chapters ahead ) and realised I'm still enjoying the Kira angle, and so Fayth lost

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago
And I worry for Brooke, in more ways then one

Ah, but ultimately Brooke/Plymouth is a favourite of mine, 'loved and chosen of the Bunny' and so forth so, fear not, it's fun to write the downs but I've no doubt we'll end things riding high.

No promises for who Brooke winds up walking out of the story with, but this is unlikely to be a story where evil wins.

019.

I don't mention it, and nor does Fayth. We spend the day largely apart, her getting up to leave almost immediately following my rushed, somewhat panicked entrance into our shared cabin.

Because of that photo: Fayth, bound and hooded, Kira's prisoner in some manner or form.

Leaving, brushing passed me as I step back, guilt still writ large on her face, guilt at folding and bending to Kira's will, if that's what happened, or guilt at failing to turn Kira off her obsession, as she'd promised to attempt.

Guilt, writ large. Much like the faded but still there graffiti, a permanent marker tattoo covering Fayth's body, only visible to me on her hands.

Apart, letting her go. For now. My own day full of servicing the Hayabusa, something I enjoy: old clothes and oil, something I'm good at.

Delivering a progress report to Sam, alone. Fayth aware of it as a task we'd pencilled in for the afternoon, but not showing. Frowning to myself on the early evening walk back, saluting the ruins with less enthusiasm, wondering whether this: Kira, whatever happened, might become a wedge between us?

Finding a delicious smell, scent of herbs, chicken, wafting from the open lakeside doors of thirteen as I approach. Climbing onto the decking, avoiding the front door and the table outside is laid, the BBQ smoking and working away at marinated chicken.

And Fayth, back from an apparent shopping trip into Blackpool, stepping out through the main double doors from the cabin to the decking, carrying a freshly baked and purchased tiger baguette, cut into chunks, the wooden board holding butter and a variety of dips.

Scrubbed clean, evidenced by the pastel purple tie side bikini she's wearing, a white sarong tied about her waist, like a knee length skirt but split up one side. Acres of flesh on show and not a single inch of Kira's graffiti to be seen.

"Brooke. I'm...."
"Cooking up a delicious dinner." Nodding, stepping to the BBQ and inhaling deeply, a barrage of smells, at least three different marinades. "Need help?"
"No. I'm...."
"In that case I'm going inside to change," stepping in and planting a kiss on Fayth's cheek. "If you're going to be sitting there distracting the fuck out of me. Least I can do is return the favour."

Winking, my comment earning a smile off Fayth, who nods.

Re-emerging ten minutes later, perfect timing as Fayth is just removing the chicken, piling it onto a plate which she sets down next to the baguette, between our two laid places at the table. Pausing, plate in hand as she catches sight of me. Smiling.

My tie side bottoms rising up at the sides out of demin shorts, cut offs the faded blue material frayed on the hem. Triangle top doing a terrible job of containing my breasts, barely covering my nipples, serving mostly only as a means to press my F cups together. The bikini black.

"The fuck am I supposed to focus on my food, Brooke?"
"Willpower." Toasting her with a beer, and fuck it I guess we're drinking tonight. "Fayth."
"Might as well not even be wearing that top."
"Well." Tugging at the string between the two triangular cups. Letting go. "Maybe if we'd eaten inside I wouldn't need a top. Or." Winking. "Bottoms."
"Teasing bitch." Tossing a slice of baguette at me, but grinning too.

"Brooke. I." Fingering her fork, the good humour of moments ago forgotten, chicken skewered on the end. "I'm."
"Don't." Shaking my head. "Doesn't matter. Okay."
"But I...." Letting out a breath, dropping her fork to clatter on the plate. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine."

Having decided whilst changing, noting Fayth's obvious guilt, her discomfort and I guess she most likely did- for whatever reasons -willingly submit to Kira, but she very obviously doesn't feel good about it in the cold light of day.

So, no more sharing. Kira is my problem, exclusively. My problem, my burden. And I'll handle it, somehow.

"Change the fucking subject. Fayth." Tossing her own baguette chunk back across the table. "No more of this, or I'll have to come over there and confiscate that bikini as evidence or some other made up shit."

Fayth laughing, grinning. Blowing me a kiss and like that, we're okay.

Eating. Drinking. Talking about everything except Kira. Flirting far too much, drink loosening what's already a fairly fluid friendship. Tidying up and taking a dozen more bottles out to the hottub.

Dark now, keeping our voices low, keeping the decking lighting off, nothing beyond a lamp from inside thirteen, barely glimpsed between half shut curtains to illuminate us.

Whispering, giggling softly as the drink continues to flow. Both of us happy, openly flirting, enjoying the company and the easy dynamic we share. Shedding clothes and there's nobody to see: cabin twelve dark, currently unoccupied, and fourteen- a family -having retired over an hour ago, lights out.

Shedding clothes, kissing. Cuddled up side by side and the occasional hand straying to a breast, stroking. Teasing.

But nothing further, and it isn't that we don't want to, I can sense, feel and it's obvious. Just from looking it's obvious: Fayth wants me, here, now. And, drunk though I don't need the drink to feel the same, but, drunk and therefore more horny then I'd otherwise be, I want her too.

But not tonight. Not with the ghost of Kira looming so fresh. Not with that image, which I've seen and which Fayth actually lived.

If we played it'd feel like comparing, competing against what only just happened. If I bind and gag Fayth, she'll no doubt find herself lost within the memory of Kira's ropes. And if Fayth binds me I'll begin to wonder at deeper meanings.

So. We kiss, we cuddle, we fondle and verbally tease. And afterwards we stumble and giggle our way to separate bedrooms.

And sleep.

Waking, both of us waking too late and in no state to jog. Soaking the leftover alcohol up with toast and omelettes, coffee.

Getting to work.

An already narrow field, and here we are making it more so. Within the wide world of porn bondage is one niche amongst many, and some models will, granted, diversify but others will- like me, like Fayth -be solely bondage focused.

We need models, for Carnival, but only those who first meet certain criteria which Fayth specified in the advert we put out.

Deadline reached, exceeded even, we sit at the table laptop open in front, going through the submissions.

Some we instantly discard, because they live too far away. We'd asked for models within a set radius of Wickwar, a distance easily travelled daily, and yet still we encounter applications from London and other equally far off points.

Others we discard due to availability. Some models, like myself hold down a second job, porn as a part time thing, extra cash. But we need models who will be focused only on Carnival, models willing to put any other career plans on hold for the duration of our run at Wickwar.

We need three, and from thirty-seven applications received Fayth and me spend a whole day slowly whittling it down to a final eight, those few we feel are the closest fit. Four models a day, two days of interviews and each day running the same.

At the warehouse.

Shutter rolled down for privacy, inner space still largely empty, some chairs, a table against one wall. A half dozen boxes. Between us we're keeping the space clean, sweeping and mopping, housekeeping.

Oil stains still patching the floor of to one side, adding character. The whole expanse echoing.

"Good morning." Standing at the front, faded blue jeans and an original 'Carnival of Chains' tee hugging my bust: black, and on the back 'N.E.C, Birmingham' followed by the hall number, the dates we'd somehow successfully run Carnival across.

Both that first exhibition, the theatre tour afterwards feeling dream like at the time. Disbelief that the shred of an idea, cooked up in a bout of depression as a means of escape, had actually become something so different and amazing.

Shock at the success, that thousands actually came to look, to walk our bondage maze, to sit and watch our show.

The legend 'Crew' on my tee, marking me out and you could buy a 'Carnival' tee, or pull over hoodie, but only those who worked the shows got the crew clothing.

Fayth close by, leaning, white jeans hugging her slightly curvier- then me -size twelve hips and legs. Black Sketchers to my black Adidas, her own 'Carnival' tee freshly made, part of the new run. Black, and cropped to leave a slash of belly exposed. 'Wickwar resort. Blackpool.' on the back, followed by the dates our show will run.

Camera in hand, Fayth slipping into Cannes mode again and she hasn't filmed in awhile, hasn't needed to, this thing she's doing, which will or won't become an actual published piece is focused on me, but specifically with regards Carnival.

And so she's filming, tripod already set and ready for when she's unable to hold the camera, which will be soon.

"Hopefully you're already aware of us?" Four girls, nodding, as will the four tomorrow. I smile in response. "I'm Plymouth, and Fayth Hill. There are eight of you." Holding up fingers. "And from this we need three."

Dropping most of my fingers, leaving one on one hand, two on the other. Waiting out the glancing around, the small nervous laugh and the equally nervous half smile.

"Before we begin, let me give you some context, shed some light beyond what anyone of you may already know, about Carnival past or present."

"Carnival is mine." Patting my chest. "My dream to twist and to shape, but that doesn't mean I'll be the centre. Beyond opening and closing Carnival has never focused on any one model, this is a show of equals. I hope." Smiling at them all, tipping Fayth a salute, to which she blows a kiss.

"No single shining star. No spotlight. My show, my name first, yes. Granted, but each of us. Of you." Spreading my arms in a sweep across the four of them, the four tomorrow eventually to become three from the eight.

"Each of us will, at some point, perform each part of the show. Thus it has ever been with Carnival. A merry-go-round of bondage."

"You've all got at least some experience in this field of ropes, but I want to be clear that, whatever you know, whatever methods or practices for binding you currently use, in Carnival we do things my way. My bondage isn't complex, won't be hard to pick up. But this is my show, and so we bind, and gag." Winking, unable to help being playful. "To my design."

"Today I'll be evaluating you on that binding. I don't need to see you instantly mirroring what I'll show, but I need to see a willingness to try, an aptitude for the basics of the skillset: tight ropes, and a reasonable speed."

"Alongside that Fayth and me will talk to each of you, fifteen." Seesawing a hand. "Twenty minutes. No traps and no silly questions, we'll just go through what you've already submitted on the form. Checking. This will be a chance for you, too, a chance to ask."

"We need to be a team. One unit. No stars in Carnival, remember. So, relax, be yourself, and to the five of you. I'm sorry, but thank you all the same. Now."

Clapping my hands together.

"Enough talking, let's begin."

Taking a moment to slot her camera into the tripod, positioned off to one side but close, pointing at the posts. Three in a row which we spent yesterday building, freestanding things, tall. Wooden.

Good enough.

Fayth positioning herself, stood against the centre post legs together and arms reaching around behind. Standing still, keeping quiet as I bind her and what an odd thing to do this with an audience, not on- yes Fayth is filming but it isn't the same -camera, for a shoot. Strange to be talking the four girls, the other four tomorrow through my process.

Doubling the rope, passing through self made loops and reversing. Wrapping and binding, switching it towards the end to wrap between the limbs. A simple yet effective method, tight. And in my opinion at least it looks good.

Keeping it simple: wrists, elbows, both bound behind the pole, to the pole in the case of Fayth's wrists. Ankles and knees, which again I bind to the pole. Nothing more save a ballgag and.

"There." Stepping back, turning to face them all. Gesturing at Fayth, who gives a small wriggle and I work at not noticing.

"So." Pointing at random. "You, and you. Which leaves you and you. Decide who goes first." Waiting a moment, the girls, suddenly thrust together and I watch half nervous smiles and a couple of equally nervous laughs being exchanged.

"This isn't a race, remember." Looking to each girl in turn. "Fayth will be remaining here, bound. For the duration, as reference. And just as it isn't a race, you'll lose no points for repeatedly checking the how of it."

"I'll be watching, scribbling notes, but just." A shrug, and I know it's hard, to ignore the fact but. "Do you, okay. Just do the task, and say done when you are, so I can come see the finished product. Okay?"

Four girls, nodding. As they will tomorrow. So off we go.

Eight pole tied girls to judge, eight slight variations on the theme of what I did to Fayth, and I'm not expecting exact copies. I want the technique to match, but it doesn't have to look exactly the same. One less wrap, or that rope going left not right, or whatever. It's fine.

I make notes, photograph each bound girl from several angles so that Fayth can see, later. Photograph her too, seeing the amusement in her eyes and later she'll tease me about having so much porn on my phone, so many photos of so many pretty pole tied girls.

Bitch.

But not really, of course.

There's coffee, tea, water and cans of diet Pepsi on a table. The girls relax, drinking and doing that semi awkward talking you do to strangers, sometimes. Waiting whilst one after the other Fayth and me have them into the office, for a chat.

Asking each girl the same questions, going over resumes, wondering out loud regarding how good a team player they are, trying to gauge attitude, and can we work with them?

Making the eight into three. Carnival, beginning.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
Partly my fault, these inner observations from Brooke. Probably writing too many, too frequent, but that's what comes from writing chapter by chapter as opposed a whole novel, which you could then go through and remove at least some of the repetition.

The aim here is to show the downward spiral, the low before the eventual- hopeful -high of Dorothy, a proper and safe relationship.

Which of course I shan't guarantee but which is perhaps what Brooke deserves, to be happy, to be well treated.

Spoilers

But in seriousness, I did not have an issue with the repetition, was merely commenting on, well, as you put it, the downward spiral. Which I think you did a great job showing in an immersive manner.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
And again, as above. Aiming to highlight the Dorothy/Kira differences, and whilst your point is valid, because nobody should have to bury an aspect of themselves in order to be happy. I'd say it's fair, and even good- healthy -for Brooke if she were with someone who didn't want to do bondage ALL the time

Cannot disagree with that. As I mentioned, hopefully she finds the correct balance.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
But I continued writing (am still a couple of chapters ahead ) and realised I'm still enjoying the Kira angle, and so Fayth lost

Besides, it would make it more annoying to maintain the bondage quota if there was no longer a crazed stalker in the picture

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
Ah, but ultimately Brooke/Plymouth is a favourite of mine, 'loved and chosen of the Bunny' and so forth so, fear not, it's fun to write the downs but I've no doubt we'll end things riding high.

No promises for who Brooke winds up walking out of the story with, but this is unlikely to be a story where evil wins.

Was not expecting it to be such. But part of enjoying a story is riding/experiencing those highs and lows - without the lows, the highs would not mean much. My 'worry' was more in the context of reacting to the story/situation, rather then some overarching concern that you were going to turn this into some sort of endless misery spiral.

-

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "But I...." Letting out a breath, dropping her fork to clatter on the plate. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine."

Ah yes, the ever burgeoning with subtext 'fine' (Yes I know she did not mean it that way, but I intentionally took it out of context)

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago If we played it'd feel like comparing, competing against what only just happened. If I bind and gag Fayth, she'll no doubt find herself lost within the memory of Kira's ropes. And if Fayth binds me I'll begin to wonder at deeper meanings.

And the ever looming presence of Kira continues to dominate (har har) everything Brooke does - at this rate they might as well have invited her over and made her unspoken presence official

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago The legend 'Crew' on my tee,

I suppose that was supposed to be 'legendary', not that it really changes the meaning.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago this is a show of equals. I hope."

Ah, but as always, some are more equal then others

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago I make notes, photograph each bound girl from several angles so that Fayth can see, later. Photograph her too, seeing the amusement in her eyes and later she'll tease me about having so much porn on my phone, so many photos of so many pretty pole tied girls.

Bitch.

Well *someone* has to help keep Brooke's bondage obsession in check

And nice to see the other major plotline getting some time, the Carnival's latest iteration beginning to take shape.

A promising start.

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago The aim here is to show the downward spiral, the low before the eventual- hopeful -high of Dorothy, a proper and safe relationship.

Which of course I shan't guarantee but which is perhaps what Brooke deserves, to be happy, to be well treated.

Spoilers

Oops

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago Besides, it would make it more annoying to maintain the bondage quota if there was no longer a crazed stalker in the picture

I mean we jest, and I'm aware not every author sees things my way, and in fairness some of those who don't go all out on the TUGs are actually pulling in more views/comments then me. So maybe I'm in the wrong?

But, that said, we jest but for me the quota is almost a real thing, if I didn't want to write a TUGs story then I'd go write elsewhere, the fact of posting here means bondage has to be involved, which for me means why not go all in

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago
My 'worry' was more in the context of reacting to the story/situation, rather then some overarching concern that you were going to turn this into some sort of endless misery spiral.

Fair.

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago The legend 'Crew' on my tee,

I suppose that was supposed to be 'legendary', not that it really changes the meaning.

Fairly certain legend is correct? Have seen it written before, 'legend' meaning writing on something, but I might be wrong?

020.

Two weeks, almost.

Blissful days, peace. Life and all it's separate parts ticking over, meshing like a well oiled machine.

Carnival moving along, the decisions made, those fortunate- we can only hope -three informed, given a date to return at which point we'll begin in earnest.

Fayth, still and always my friend. Backing off though on anything more, unspoken, I haven't asked and she hasn't said, but as a friend she knows. She can see I'm no longer available.

And Dorothy, proceeding slowly but wonderfully. Two dates, a shared meal on her lunch break, and an afternoon off, time spent walking the famous promenade. Holding hands and kissing. No sex, no ropes, but I'm happy.

Two blips. Two messages from unrecognised numbers both of which I deleted without opening. Being good, content with this newly developing thing, with Dorothy.

Ten days of bliss.

Should've known it wouldn't last.

Waking with my alarm, stretching, yawning. Eyes still halfway sleep fogged as I roll out of bed and wander naked to the ensuite, teeth and a quick wash, shower after jogging, following the routine. Stepping out the bathroom, awake and.

"What the actual...."
"Hi."

Kira, smiling at me, all knowing and more then a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Kira. In my fucking bed. Tied, to my fucking bed and she's mostly under the covers, but I'd put money on her being naked.

Eyes darting to my- left open, because I like the breeze -window, and a brief moment of being quite impressed: scaling the wall, climbing through and binding herself, all without waking me.

Can't see her feet, but the rope emerging from under my duvet, twin ropes diving down under the bed, looking tight, to me this looks like her ankles will be bound together? Whilst up the other end Kira's head and shoulders are visible, plus her arms, raised and pinned above her head, wrists together and bound, rope diving again down and under.

Looks like some complex system, looks, at a glance, to be that she was able to pull on the rope ends to tighten her own wrist to bed bindings.

Sealing herself in.

Clever girl.

"I missed you."
"Yeah. Well." Running a hand through my hair. "Fuck."
"If you want."
"I didn't mean...." Staring at her, mouth open as Kira grins back. Playful.

Staring at each other, Kira's humour and my frustration.

"Want to cuddle?"
"No. I've got-"

Knock at my door.

"Shit."
"Brooke?" Fayth's voice, and already I'm glancing at my phone, grimacing to see how much time I've wasted, lost. Time spent staring at Kira, falling a little. "You awake?" Small laugh from beyond the wood, echoed on this side by Kira.

"I'm not going jogging on my own."
"I'm here." Looking at Kira as I answer, willing her to silence because I. Am not explaining this. "Two minutes."
"Kay."

"Guess I'll wait here then?"
"You." Yanking on pants and shorts, a sports bra and vest top. "Can...."

Shaking my head. Despairing. Looking at Kira, who grins. So fucking pleased with herself and from somewhere I feel it, the urge to wipe that smugness off her face.

Stalking forward, silent, methodically and quickly going from bottom bindings to top, checking Kira's work, going so far as to loosen those parts tethering her to my bed, pulling them tighter and resealing. Kira's breath quickening as I work, squirming, and less as I take away her small freedom, stretching her out more. A gasp as I pull off and toss the duvet, exposing her naked tan skinned body.

Going still as I climb atop her, straddling, opening wide eyes on mine as I lean in, Kira accepting the ballgag, small moan as I climb back off, grabbing phone and key.

Door open, turning to regard her, Kira staring back, still breathing slightly fast, blinking at me and shaking herself, small breasts bouncing and I've crossed the room before I can stop myself, leaning in, down, running my tongue up Kira's nakedness from crotch to ballgagged lips.

Stepping back, breathing a little fast myself, now.

"I'll." Shivering, spasm chasing through me. "Deal with you later."

Silent nod from Kira, shutting the door and it feels like retreat, fleeing downstairs and out. Pounding through the jog pushing hard, too hard Fayth getting left behind. Three times I throttle back, apologising.

Finishing, a sweaty mess as we walk back into the cabin, evidence of the push, trying and failing to outrun the knowledge of Kira, waiting for me and I should've freed her, sent her away.

I should've done that, why didn't I do that?

Handing Fayth a glass of fresh water, leaning back against the counter top and downing my own, looking across the room at her, sweaty too, tee plastered to skin as mine is.

"What?"
"Nothing." Shaking my head, I can't ask Fayth for help, I promised.

"Got any plans?"
"No." Cursing myself immediately afterwards, my answer like a denial of wrongdoing, coming too loud and fast.

"I." Letting out a breath, feeling no calmer. "It's tomorrow, day one, right?"
"Tomorrow." Nodding, downing the last of her water and crossing the room, coming closer. "Want to go check the warehouse?"
"For what?"
"Well." Glass on the sink, turned around and leaning back, beside me, her proximity close and I squirm. Suddenly feeling like somehow Fayth will smell Kira on me.

"To prep?"
"Sure." Grasping at the idea like a girl drowning, mind having skipped over and forgotten the logical: let Kira go, instead I'm thinking of distance, that, away from the cabin I can't be tempted, by her.

"Let me shower, and we'll. Um...."
"Bus?"
"Bus." Nodding. "Ten minutes?"
"Ten?" Looking at me as though I were mad. "Give me an hour."

Laughing at my look of dismay, giving me a playful nudge.

"Feel like having a proper shower."
"Right." Watching Fayth leave, and she hasn't. She doesn't even know. But I can't help the thought she's conspiring with Kira, forcing me to spend more time in my room.

Kira jumping visibly as I kick the door open, closed. Huffing, staring at her and shaking my head.

Annoyed though I'm not sure at what, specifically. Strangely not pissed at Kira, in the moment, my slight rage is unfocused, sloshing around inside.

"Well." Having spent five minutes loosening Kira's ropes, bringing them to the point she can wriggle her arms free, bend down and sort out her ankles, remove her own gag. Bottle of water beside her. "There." Stepping back, nodding as she stares at me, blinking and making no immediate move towards freedom.

"I'm having a shower, and." Waving somewhat irritably at the door. "I'm busy. All day. So." Huffing again, and I suppose at least part of my mood is down to the illogical fact of not actually wanting to play with Kira, not actually wanting her here, and yet now she is here I'm not allowed to play with her.

The whole thing like a confusing diagram in my head, like a flow chart which keeps bending back on itself.

"You'd best leave. I guess." I comment, before walking into the bathroom, shutting the door.

Emerging fifteen minutes later, having stayed under the water longer then normal, promising myself it wasn't hiding. Stepping back into my room, hair still damp body glistening, water trickling down me. Wrapped in a fluffy blue towel.

Failing completely to hide the- natural reaction -smile upon finding Kira, still naked. Completely free of ropes sat cross legged on my bed, leaning back against the headboard book in her lap. Reading.

"You aren't even dressed."
"No." Not looking up. "But I thought about it. Promise."

Lips lifting in a small smile, not looking at me.

"I'm busy." Sitting on the bed, at the far end legs dangling, looking at my hands. "Do you understand?"
"Sure." A nod I half see. "In demand."
"No." Fighting off the smile, Kira's semi teasing tone. "It isn't like that."
"Okay."
"I'm busy."
"And I'm." Closing her book, the thud of it bringing my gaze up and around. Kira's hands on the book, in her lap. Naked, small breasts like pointers, stabbing out at me.

"I'm happy to wait."
"But...."
"Tell me to leave." An easy shrug, a smile. See, we're all friends. "Again. Plymouth. And I will."

Quite aside from the fact I, mostly, already said she should.

"I'll be gone hours."
"And I'm happy to wait." Picking up a coiled rope and tossing it across to me. "For you to keep me, here." Small shiver chasing across her, jumping the gap to me. "In the manner of your choosing."

"Or." Another easy shrug. "Tell me to leave."

"We're not going to fuck." For some reason I'm unable to say the word 'leave' to her, with or without the please. I can't force or coax it out, so feel forced into this weird kind of bargaining, trying to make staying seem so unattractive that Kira chooses to leave.

"Not now, not later."
"Okay."
"I might not even want to talk."
"Okay."
"Maybe," getting annoyed, her calm tone, deflecting my attempts with such ease.

"What if I decide to use my crop later, make you beg me to stop, to let you go."
"S' pretty much what I'd do to you." Nodding, like you would upon hearing a particularly good idea. "If you came into my house and refused to leave."

Smiling, all innocent and sweet as her words sink in, causing my breath to catch, my pussy to throb.

Wishing, in that one second that this were Kira's house, wishing our roles were reversed.

And afterwards, riding the bus with Fayth I can't help the feeling she tricked me into it. Kira, somehow winning the war of words, manipulating me into a corner, teasing and pushing until I'd bound and gagged her to shut her up, to prove that I was winning. Not her.

Prep at the warehouse, basically nothing more then talking through ideas for Carnival, checking for the fifth time what equipment- ropes and so on -we've already got. And in ny heightened state it takes everything I've got to avoid turning the event into a play session. Fairly confident of my ability to push or lead Fayth into it.

But no. For the sake of my own sanity I hold off. And prep becomes lunch in a beachfront cafe, a shared plate of chips and I try not to grin too wide, manage not to laugh as the minutes continue to tick by.

Kira, bound and waiting.

"Fancy the casino?"
"Tonight?" Surprised, walking back through Wickwar.

"Why not?" A shrug. "I haven't been yet, have you?"
"No."
"Well then...."
"Sure." I nod. "Not blowing my savings though."
"Fuck that." Laughing. "Maybe forty each?"
"I can do forty."

"Seven?"
"Not forty?"
"Ha." Shaking her head at my bad humour. "Seven, to meet."
"Right." Glancing at my phone, finding the clock climbing up off half four, the day heading towards evening.

Fayth, stopping beside the ruins, nodding towards the golf course.

"I've got some friends. Going to have a practice."
"Golf?"
"Can't play for shit." Laughing. "But a couple of the cooks, they go on the course when it's quiet, just for a knockabout. For fun, so."
"Sounds nice." I nod.

"So you won't be home?"
"I'll see you in reception."
"Right." Hugging, parting, and it's only approaching the door to thirteen that I realise: I've got a couple of hours, alone, with Kira.

A half hour of which I spend on the decking. Afraid to go inside, scared of what might happen, what Kira's smile, her casual way of flirting like it doesn't matter all whilst manoeuvring everything towards what she seems to want.

Should've told her to leave.

"Fucking coward." Tutting at myself.

Going inside. Taking time in the kitchen, reheating the half quiche from two days ago, adding salad, dumping two cans of diet Pepsi and a bottle of ketchup, cutlery into a bag. Carrying everything upstairs.

Finding Kira how I'd left her: naked, mouth stuffed with- trying to win, to wipe the smugness off her face -my sweaty jogging pants, sealed in with rolls of self adhesive bandaging. Her body splayed out and bound to the beds four corners, rope at each limb, slender frame stretched tight to the point she's surely uncomfortable.

Especially given I've been gone hours.

Eyes darting to the doorway as I enter, squriming, small whimper like moans coming from her gagged mouth.

Limbs flopping as I free each in turn, taking her time to sit up, standing and walking to the bathroom. Emerging five minutes later and downing half her drink, sitting on the floor to eat, leaning back against the wall plate in one hand fork in the other, not bothering with the knife.

"Are you back?" To be with me, the unspoken addition that I see in her eyes, small brief flare of hope, quickly stamped down.

"I'm going out." Pausing to swallow some quiche, sat on the bed. Because we'd caught the bus, therefore no bike and therefore no inforced dress code, I'm wearing a dress: black, with a ghost half there purple pattern, like camouflage print. Thin shoulder straps and a plunging neckline, hugging my F cups and below, front and back from bust to waist the dress is mesh-like, semi see-through. Flaring out slightly on the legs, an above the knee hem.

Paired with knee high lace up boots, black with chunky goth soles.

"Another hour."
"Right." Nodding.

"If you ask me to leave, I will." Looking at me, repeating herself from earlier. The ultimatum and I still can't seem to find the words.

Plate empty, can beside me, leaning back against the headboard. Making no move against her, passing no comment as Kira stands, silently approaching and carefully placing her plate atop mine.

Climbing- still naked -up onto the bed, crawling forwards, pausing, kneeling close to me. Waiting, and without a word I shift positions, leaving one leg dangling off the bed but spreading my other out wide.

A silent invitation.

Fucking- ask her to leave for fucks sake -coward.

Shifting slightly as Kira comes in, laying down between my legs, on her side arms around my leg, pressing her chest and belly, her crotch against my leg, resting her head underneath my dress, face pressed against my crotch.

Stroking idle patterns up and down my leg. Planting the occasional- so rare and spread out I'm caught out each time, spend the five minutes after wishing she'd do it again, unwilling to ask yet on edge -small kiss or lick to my cotton covered pussy.

Acting very much like a slave, showing attention and affection whilst expecting nothing back.

Shifting wordlessly as I stand up, time. Kira returning to the centre of my bed, spreading her limbs out and laying on her back. Staring at the ceiling. Waiting.

And aside from that one loss of control first thing, licking the naked length of her I've shown Kira no attention, given no love to her and yet she's ready to stay.

To remain the evening in bondage. Waiting.

Binding her, treating the task as a task, putting no extra thought nor care into the act: placing Kira back into a tightly spread and pinned state, nakedness on display, tethered to my bed and going nowhere.

Doing this as avoidance. Un- able -willing to simply speak the word 'leave' either politely or with force. Bossing her. Not able to tell Kira to leave, and so I bind her to my bed.

Something to deal with later. Procrastinating, and trying not to enjoy the view.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
I mean we jest, and I'm aware not every author sees things my way, and in fairness some of those who don't go all out on the TUGs are actually pulling in more views/comments then me. So maybe I'm in the wrong?

But, that said, we jest but for me the quota is almost a real thing, if I didn't want to write a TUGs story then I'd go write elsewhere, the fact of posting here means bondage has to be involved, which for me means why not go all in

Do not think there is quite so clear cut of a 'right or wrong' in regards to those sorts of things.

But certainly cannot disagree with your logic - go big or go home and all that.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Fairly certain legend is correct? Have seen it written before, 'legend' meaning writing on something, but I might be wrong?

Was curious so I looked it up and you are correct - I suppose that is what I get for trusting my knowledge of this silly language

-

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Eyes darting to my- left open, because I like the breeze -window, and a brief moment of being quite impressed: scaling the wall, climbing through and binding herself, all without waking me.

Seems Kira has been training with the local order of bondage ninjas

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago and I should've freed her, sent her away.

I should've done that, why didn't I do that?

Because you have a recurring problem with taking your interest(s) a little too far, Brooke

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Strangely not pissed at Kira, in the moment, my slight rage is unfocused, sloshing around inside.

Because you are upset with yourself Brooke, but do not want to admit it.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "We're not going to fuck." For some reason I'm unable to say the word 'leave' to her, with or without the please. I can't force or coax it out, so feel forced into this weird kind of bargaining, trying to make staying seem so unattractive that Kira chooses to leave.

One of those seemingly paradoxical things on the surface, and yet this makes so much sense. A great way to sum it up without too much overexplaining. Kira *really* knows what buttons to press (well maybe not consciously, but instinctively at least) to make Brooke dance to her tune.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "If you ask me to leave, I will." Looking at me, repeating herself from earlier. The ultimatum and I still can't seem to find the words.

In fairness, by this stage there is a bit of sunk-cost fallacy at play here - it would be more then a little rude to make her wait all day and *then* tell her to leave

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Something to deal with later. Procrastinating, and trying not to enjoy the view.

Oh boy...

In seriousness, I did enjoy the weird dynamic of the chapter. All the indecision and frustration really highlights just how badly tangled up Brooke's brain has gotten. She has psychological issues (and I say this in the kindest and most understanding way possible, not as a criticism - there is nothing wrong with having problems or needing help) that she desperately needs help working through. And while she has people around her who care, sometimes that is not enough, and she seems to lack someone who is capable of providing what she needs in this regard.

Unfortunate

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago Do not think there is quite so clear cut of a 'right or wrong' in regards to those sorts of things.

But certainly cannot disagree with your logic - go big or go home and all that.

Agreed, just differing interpretations on the theme.

And I just happen to be allllllll the way over at one end of the scale.

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago Because you have a recurring problem with taking your interest(s) a little too far, Brooke

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago Because you are upset with yourself Brooke, but do not want to admit it.

All true, and I'm grateful for your pointing such out. Kind of a roller coaster, the Kira/Brooke part of this story. Fun whilst it's going on but plenty of annoyance, at herself, when she's alone.

All of which leading to: part two below, kind of.

Part two in the sense that it directly plays off what's just happened, and seeks to resolve or delve further into certain issues.

021.

Opening the front door, mind elsewhere: simultaneously split between the naked Asian bound to my bed, patiently waiting and it'd be cute save for the fact this particular naked Asian happens to be a stalker.

A proven obsessive, and me the focus.

Thoughts on Fayth too, my friend. Two twenties folded and slipped inside my bra, expecting to lose both but looking forward to an evening of fun gambling all the same.

Opening the door and history repeating as I walk out without looking, head turned back as though I could still see Kira. Instead colliding with Dorothy, both of us stumbling bag coming off her shoulder, hitting the floor and rolling.

"Oh?"
"Shit."
"Oh." Too slow wiping the shock, the grimace off my face and she saw.

Damn it, Brooke. All fucking day I've been playing Kira's game, consciously or not, mind on her, drifting through events but in truth I never left my bedroom. Not even considering, thinking of Dorothy, of the slowly growing hope blooming between us.

Three dates now, and here she is. Unannounced which- naked girl tied to my actual fucking bed -my maybe girlfriend should totally be allowed to do.

"I've got plans."
"Right." Mouth losing the rest of her happy smile at my blurted out words, like throwing up a defence, setting into that same thin line I saw just prior to surrendering before, anger flaring beneath the surface and the memory of what she did next.

"What are you...?"
"Oh." I'd been grinning, at her. Thinking of rope and how damn hot Dorothy had been, binding me, taking out her frustrations. And so far that's the only time she's used ropes on me.

Rallying, thoughts like the Hayabusa at speed because right now in this moment we're both smiling. And suddenly I find it, the will and motivation to do the right thing.

'About fucking time' I almost hear, ghost like in my head. My subconscious, cheering.

"I'm meeting Fayth." Waved gesture towards the ruins, Wickwars centre and beyond it. "We're going to gamble. Bet it all on red."
"On." Small smile, internal cheering briefly peaking at the sight, before vanishing into my depths. Her work done. "Red?"
"Or black?" Reaching out to take her hand, flash of guilt- Kira -but I'll deal with her. "Maybe I need a good luck charm?"
"Me?" Coughed laughter.

"Shouldn't I be the gambler, and you the pretty girl hanging on my arm?"
"Selling yourself short." Giving her hand a squeeze, pleased to see Dorothy blush at the compliment.

"Could you?"
"Brooke?"
"Could I meet you at the casino?"
"Forgot something?" Glancing over my shoulder at the- still open -door. "I can wait."
"No." Taking a breath, lowering my tone back to normal. "Maybe I just need more money, to win back the money I'm going to lose."
"That's." Smiling, shaking her head. "Terrible gambling. But." Leaning in, eyes on me and unsure as she kisses my cheek.

And I do not deserve this girl. This beautiful fantastic girl. But, tonight I'm going to talk, and tell her all the truths. That's the last untruth.

Promise.

And with luck she'll still think I'm fantastic. Afterwards.

Watching Dorothy leave, waving as she turns, and once she's rounded the corner I turn, smile falling off my face, mouth set. Stomping back inside and upstairs.

"Leave."
"But." Sitting up, rubbing one hand against the rope marked wrist of her other. "You've kept me bound all day."
"And now I'm asking." Telling, come on Brooke do better. "Telling, you to leave. Leave here and leave me alone. No more." Chopping gesture with both hands, sweeping the air between us. "This ends now."

"Well...."

Small smile drying up, the waves of whatever plan Kira had breaking against the stone wall of my expression. My resolve.

Locking the door behind us both, seeing Kira in my corner vision, turning to face me and mouth opening.

I walk off, not looking back.

Hard, but necessary, and there wasn't ever anything firm between us, so I don't owe an explanation.

Feeling the small tickle like an itch I can't scratch, what if thoughts invading, questioning Kira's likelihood of simply letting it drop.

Of letting me drop.

"I'll fucking deal with it." Like a growl, throwing an angry salute at the castle ruins as I pass, boots clomping a fast parade ground march.

Looking up to spot Dorothy, loitering here and not at the Casino doors. My maybe- and after tonight I suppose we'll know -girlfriend, looking cute in her workweek choice for today: long black spandex style skirt, hugging her legs tight yet shifting and stretching as she moves, and a white v necked short sleeved tee, cropped to show a slash of humped belly.

And there's something about that belly, maybe that Dorothy is my opposite in terms of figure, both of us with curves, a decent- okay, mine more oversized then decent -bust, yet her curves are filled out, her limbs thicker without being unhealthily so. I'm beginning to fall for those curves, the way her body stretches and presses at whatever she's wearing.

Just as I'm aware my own toned figure, my muscles at bicep and calf, the ghost of a six pack. I'm well aware of how Dorothy drinks the sight of naked me in, my F cups like the final touch, unmissable.

"Did you just," amused, stepping closer and reaching out, taking my offered hands in hers, "salute the castle?"
"You mean you don't?" Teasing, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Can we talk?"
"Now?" Smile dropping slightly, my serious tone. "I thought you needed to...."
"She can wait."

She will wait, I've already had a quick phone exchange with Fayth, no details. Kira is my problem. But she's aware I'm running late.

There are benches, scattered around the resort, sometimes just a pair, mostly in groups and always overlooking a worthy view. Three of these groups surround the ruins, each group a half split between looking in at Wickwar, and out at Wickwar the larger, the namesake.

"So."
"So." Deep breath, and I will not cry, do not deserve to cry over this disaster of my own making. "Basically." Actually finding a laugh from somewhere, devoid of humour but there it is. "I'm a shit girlfriend. And slash or person."
"Right?" Confused, of course. And whilst I stare out at the ruins- of my life, maybe -Dorothy stares at me, waiting.

For twenty minutes I talk, occasionally glancing at Dorothy but mostly at my hands, at the castle or the sky. I tell her everything: my secret obsession with helplessness and the somewhat unique twists it's placed on certain shoots.

Leon.

Others, those I can remember anyway.

"Because of the accident."
"Just so." Running a hand through my hair, the purposefully shaved style, buzzcut on the left side, scar visible from my crash. The result being holes in my memory, chasms of black.

Dorothy, nodding for me to continue and we return to Leon. And to Kira.

Shivering as I explain, try to explain without letting myself off. How wanting to be helpful, being a natural flirt and a lover of bondage. How this led me to go further then necessary to show Kira, quite literally the ropes. How my over familiarity was almost certainly the catalyst for her obsession.

Which far from killing and stopping I instead revelled in, encouraged, becoming easily addicted to the thrill of surrender, to her.

And, deep breath. Lastly I explain today, unable now to even glance at Dorothy as I explain who I woke up next to, who I've been keeping bound and gagged in my bed. Because she broke in, yes, only I'm equally guilty, because I kept her there.

Who, until Dorothy herself appeared, I honestly and likely had no intentions of kicking out.

Was most likely- grimacing, bad medicine -I'd of walked back into my room tonight and surrendered.

"So." Another humourless laugh, shaking my head and now the tears come. Letting them. "Now you know. I'm fucking broken, and I don't deserve happiness."

Silence. Like the aftermath of a dropped bomb, those moments of calm and you can see the growing mushroom cloud, the blast yet to reach you.

And I wait, huddled into myself. Waiting to be shouted at- mostly for today, which is basically cheating, what I did -or to be slapped. Either or both I deserve. And whatever Dorothy does I won't defend myself, I'll sit, and take it, and try to do better next time.

Next time, if I even allow myself to have one?

"You." Dorothy's voice soft, and that alone has me turning to look at her, the impossible outcome of her not screaming at me.

"Are a fucking idiot, Brooke."
"Amongst other things." Nodding, tears still flowing and I sniff, wiping a hand irritably across my eyes.

"But you're honest." Shuffling closer, another impossible outcome and yet a third as Dorothy takes my hands in hers. "And...."
"And...?" Taking a deep breath. "What fucking good is honesty?" If you're doomed regardless.

"It matters to me." Leaning in and I'm like a rock, immobile. And Dorothy's tender kisses below each eye, taking away my tears only winds up bringing more.

"I'm not a doormat." Voice slightly more firm, and I make eye contact, shiver running through me as useless adrenaline tries to push me to do something when there's nothing else to do.

"I know what you are." Running a hand across the slope and downwards curve of my breast. "What I am. I realise you could do better."
"No." Like snapping fingers and I will not. Not, listen to that crap.

"That's crap." Angry. Suddenly- that adrenaline -on my feet and pacing in front of her. "You're stunning." Gesturing, letting Dorothy see the naked lust, for her in my eyes. "Funny, amazing. So fucking sexy I'd devour you right now."
"Right." Lips lifting, humour. "Here?" Standing too, stepping closer coming right up to me, to the point my canons, large and leading my charge through life as they do are all but brushing the front of her tee.

"Will you salute the ruins, before or after we fuck." Leaning in to kiss my cheek. "Which is the proper form here?"
"Fucking." Laughing. "Idiot."
"Cute," closing that small amount of extra distance and putting her hands on my butt, gripping and pulling me into her.

Crotch to crotch, feeling Dorothy's warmth match my own.

"Idiot."
"I'm broken though." One last try, because impossibly it seems Dorothy still wants me, but I feel the need to give her one last exit. "I'm not a good prospect."
"As what?" Teasing, but dropping the smile, showing me she means the next words.

"I'm not a doormat, Brooke. I won't let myself be walked over, used. I won't follow you around, won't cling to you. All desperate and shit."

Laughing, at herself and somewhat bitter. Waving off my open mouth, the protest I'd been about to voice.

"No matter how amazing you look, if I'm done I'm done. But. You were honest." Waving at the ruins: knights of old. "Falling on your sword, all chivalrous and shit."

Smiling, letting me see how much it all means, that I came to her and confessed. Kissing me and I kiss her back, contact which leaves us both breathless.

"Three dates, we're not even officially an item, by school playground rules and all that shit, so." An easy shrug. "I want this. You. I want to try, and I believe you want that too?"
"Yes." Nodding, almost crying again.

"So. You told the stalker girl to fuck off. If she doesn't, be honest with me. Let me help you out of this hole."
"That I dug."
"Because you too," kissing me again, "are a cute Idiot." Grinning. "Which makes us a perfect fit."
"Ha."

Overwhelmed, the sense of wanting Dorothy, of the second chance, everything hitting me, swamping me and I pull her into me, hugging Dorothy tight.

Swear I can feel her want for me in return, like a rising whine, like jet engines cutting loose. Full thrust.

And five minutes later, or an eternity it's impossible to tell? Coming apart swapping smirks. My dress pulled down, bra off and tossed. Somewhere? Pants all askew from Dorothy's plunging hand, her fingers working me to a fast orgasm even whilst I'd been doing likewise for her. White tee lifted on one side, a breast freed from it's lace bra prison, and her skirt bunched up around the waist, thong yanked down and strung around her knees.

"Well." Breathing hard, licking her lips and looking at me with eyes that say she could happily go again.

Right now.

"That was...."
"Definitely worth a salute."

Both of us devolving into giggles as I turn and salute the ruins, all serious face. Dorothy joining me in the act.

Casino passing like a blur, details unimportant and that isn't a slight against Fayth. The three of us have fun, laughing and drinking a half dozen beers between us, plus several shots.

The blur like quality is due to my not being able to recall, afterwards, exactly what games we played, whether I even came out on top. And all this because of Dorothy. The two of us inseparable, lost in each other's scent and proximity, barely breaking contact the whole evening. Hugging, stroking.

Being careful to not kiss too frequently, because Fayth's my friend, who I'm supposed to be hanging out with and so shouldn't be pushing away. And Dorothy appears- unspoken -to realise and understand this, content to hug, to trace fingers across my skin.

A hug goodbye from Fayth, for Dorothy too and she leaves us to it, in reception and.

"Don't leave me."
"Never." Sitting sidesaddle on my lap, on one of several posh armchairs arranged artfully in the corners, away from the desk. My hand resting on her crotch, one of hers already down inside my dress, finger stroking back and forth across a nipple.

Staring into each other's eyes, and if anything my confession, Dorothy's declared feelings for me in its wake. We're so much closer for it. Something like the first tentative beginnings of love in her eyes, which I know she can see reflected in mine.

"Tonight." Smiling up at her. "Let me get us a room."
"If you...." A shy smile back, a small nod. Neither of us wanting to say it, both of us thinking it.

My bed, Kira. Even I'm not sleeping there until the sheets are changed.

Or the bed is burned, replaced.

Not a fancy room, not a top floor suite, but enough. King sized bed and a view towards the arena, back of the building but we're not here for the views.

Not the views out the window, anyway.

Stripping, across the room from each other and shedding clothes, staring unashamedly, and naked, Dorothy patting her bag, a small black thing with Adidas in white on the side, like you'd take swimming.

"I...."
"What?" Closing the distance, taking her hand in mine.

"I came to see you, earlier." Flashed smile, blushing. "Because I wanted to bind you, and." Looking at me. "Tease, you."
"And?" Putting the hand I'm holding on my breast. Smiling. "We're in this room because of."

Waving the fact of it off, irritated, flash of anger across my face and Dorothy, caring. Stepping in to kiss me.

"If you want to play." Nodding. "I want to play. Nothing else. Nobody." Kissing her, something inside singing as Dorothy kisses me back, showing she's happy to move forward, too.

"Matters, except us."
"Only us."

Five minutes of laying still, of Dorothy grunting and cursing the lack of actual legs on the 'fucking' bed, of shared laughter as she bobs up and down like someone exercising. Five minutes of watching, captivated as her breasts and belly wobble and bounce, of a steadily growing tingle as each limb in turn is tightly lashed and yanked straight, my body bound to the four corners.

Spread out. Exposed. Helpless.

Finally, done. Looking down at me, smiling like a woman halfway in love whilst I look back, the whole body tingles making things dreamlike, adding an extra dimension to my own swelling feelings, for her.

And for an hour Dorothy takes me to heaven. Three times.

Not a hint of malice and it's only after, post shower and cuddled up, Dorothy already asleep and me fast on the way down. Only then do I ponder that it was, if she'd wanted it would've been perfect to enact revenge.

To torture and inflict pain, to simply leave me.

Instead her often light, playful and teasing touch has me whimpering in pleasure, and quite often sliding towards begging, pulling at my ropes, finding no slack no give. Helpless, forced to submit to Dorothy's touch, her attentions.

Pure, fucking, bliss.

Kissing me, not limiting herself to my lips, Dorothy tracing a meandering path down across both breasts and over my pussy, down one leg and back upwards.

Dry humping me, for an age simply laying atop me, legs between mine and hands either teasing at my breasts or running through my hair, tracing patterns up and down both arms and my side. Kissing whilst grinding her pussy down and up against mine, leaving me breathless, panting.

Half mad with desire for her.

Dorothy unable to leave me alone, hands always on my breasts, inflated canons rising off my slender frame. Forever running fingers across my muscles too, pulled taut by the ropes at arm and leg, belly. Clearly loving the shape of me.

Climaxing, three times Dorothy walks me gently up and over the hill, never making me ask or beg for it. And on the third, final run she straddles me, leaning forward mouth pressed to my pussy, tongue working me over whilst her own pussy is mashed into my face, my own tongue pushing and probing.

Cumming together.

And in the aftermath Dorothy laying on me, cuddling me and- still trussed up -I can't cuddle her back, which is okay. Because I'm into that, finding my own additional pleasure in the helplessness of the ropes.

Freeing me.

Falling asleep, cuddling up to her, body pressed in behind arms around Dorothy's bulk, slow traced lines up and down her belly and smiling at the contented sighing my attentions are causing.

Wanting nothing more, then more of this.

Please.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
And I just happen to be allllllll the way over at one end of the scale.

-

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "Oh." I'd been grinning, at her. Thinking of rope and how damn hot Dorothy had been, binding me, taking out her frustrations. And so far that's the only time she's used ropes on me.

Focus, Brooke - you are supposed to be panicking at the imminent possibility of a very problematic meeting

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago For twenty minutes I talk, occasionally glancing at Dorothy but mostly at my hands, at the castle or the sky. I tell her everything: my secret obsession with helplessness and the somewhat unique twists it's placed on certain shoots.

And finally the proverbial dam breaks...

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "So." Another humourless laugh, shaking my head and now the tears come. Letting them. "Now you know. I'm fucking broken, and I don't deserve happiness."

...That determination is not for you to make, Brooke. And certainly not for your self-hating thoughts to make *for you*.

Far more to say, but at the end of the day, I think most of it is obvious.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "And...?" Taking a deep breath. "What fucking good is honesty?" If you're doomed regardless.

It shows that one sees the problem - that one is sincere. Which is far more then many people are capable of doing/being. It is only a single step of course, but it is a hard one to take. And one should give oneself a little credit for that.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "I know what you are." Running a hand across the slope and downwards curve of my breast. "What I am. I realise you could do better."
"No." Like snapping fingers and I will not. Not, listen to that crap.

"That's crap." Angry. Suddenly- that adrenaline -on my feet and pacing in front of her. "You're stunning." Gesturing, letting Dorothy see the naked lust, for her in my eyes. "Funny, amazing. So fucking sexy I'd devour you right now."

Ironic is it not, that it can often be so much easier to stand up for someone else, then... well yourself. Easier to do something for others, then yourself. The paradox/a quirk of our social biological programming.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "I'm broken though." One last try, because impossibly it seems Dorothy still wants me, but I feel the need to give her one last exit. "I'm not a good prospect."

Ahh, the old repeated attempt at self-sabotage. Or, one could argue, the reflexive desire to test the relationship, be sure. So that she can experience the confidence and security she is looking for.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Both of us devolving into giggles as I turn and salute the ruins, all serious face. Dorothy joining me in the act.

A well timed bit of levity to break up the seriousness.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Staring into each other's eyes, and if anything my confession, Dorothy's declared feelings for me in its wake. We're so much closer for it. Something like the first tentative beginnings of love in her eyes, which I know she can see reflected in mine.

Relationships, at their core, are built on sharing deep and personal things after all - why are you so surprised Brooke

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Wanting nothing more, then more of this.

Please.

Indeed. A wonderful moment for Brooke, and a wonderful bit of resolution/catharsis.

Really enjoyed the chapter. Raw and emotional, in the best kind of way.

Under other circumstances, I would suspect this would be the end, more or less. But I could certainly imagine Kira having something to say about all this...

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago
Really enjoyed the chapter. Raw and emotional, in the best kind of way.

Under other circumstances, I would suspect this would be the end, more or less. But I could certainly imagine Kira having something to say about all this...

No point picking out and commenting on every one, of your comments to my writings

Thank you, though.

Suffice to say I'm pleased it all seems to of come across as intended: honesty from Brooke, sharing and in doing so finding someone willing to take her as she is, to try.

A fresh start, new beginnings.

But, as you comment at the end Kira may (may not, no spoilers because this chapter was a good wrap up) have other opinions.

022.

Waiting for us, Fayth riding in front, but only because I let her. The joke of it: the mismatch of her on a newly bought- old -moped, followed through Blackpool by me on the Hayabusa, ten times as noisy, power barely contained.

Her idea, something cheap so she's mobile, at least around the city.

Easing up in front of the warehouse, kicking down the stand, helmet off and hair shaken out. Looking, as the three look back.

Three models, our chosen picks for Carnival.

Tempest: pale skinned, sun shy her whole self screaming Goth. A dozen plus pieces of ink, equally as heavy as my own but evenly distributed, not my purposeful 'fuck you' to symmetry. A skinny ten, lacking my visible toning, D cups natural, pert. Tempest's hair is dyed green, mixed in streaks of blue, like the sea.

Maria: Mexican, her accent thick, skin dark yet paler then some, hair a natural black, curling and long. Body a curvy twelve topped by enhanced E cups.

Roxy: Blonde, young. Nineteen and looking it, with Tempest at thirty-three and Maria slightly older then mid twenties me, Fayth having reached that four oh marker. A slim ten, natural C cups and a bikini line tan, not quite my year round shade though. Ink spiralling up her right arm, colourful, a contrast to Tempest's and my almost entirely black designs.

Getting along, it seems, scattered laughter rolling in to fill the silence once I shut the Hayabusa off.

"Morning girls." I smile, nodding to each in turn. "Let's get inside."

The warehouse, interior cool. Chairs still, and the table: tea and coffee facilities still in place, a water cooler beside the table, three spare- full -bottles beside it. Poles removed, instead contractors have been in, fixing nine sports style crash mats into a large square.

Crash mats, extra padding on the floor which we won't have on the stage floor, which we likely won't need on stage. No tumbling, not much floor work in Carnival since the audience won't be able to see.

But padding now, to practice.

"So." Facing them, facing Fayth's camera and trying not to grin, at her. "Welcome to Carnival, day one."

"Each of you is a model of varying experience. Each of you, of us." Patting my chest, gesturing to Fayth and the three new girls turning, blinking at the camera.

Tempest giving the lens a small wave, Fayth waving back and most of us laugh.

"We're all used to binding, to being bound. What we aren't used to, is each other. But we'll learn, practice and close proximity. We will become a team."

"One month." Holding up one finger. "Four weeks and change," one finger becoming four, "to turn Carnival from a name into reality. Fayth and me have been here before, and therefore we're already somewhat aware of what works. What doesn't. But what point Carnival version three being a mirror of two?"

"I'm sorry. But." Roxy, with her actual hand up, glancing at and dropping it, letting loose a nervous giggle. "Um."
"Roxy?" Nodding, smiling at the young blonde, hands stuffed into her denim shorts pockets and fitted tee making the curves of her chest obvious.

No bra, nipples two small points stabbing out at the room.

"I'm nineteen." Looking around at us all. "Sorry, but. Yes I've heard." Emphasising the word. "About Carnival, seen some images online, but. Is there more?"
"Like, film?" Maria, clicking her fingers on the word: a good idea, just occurring to her. "Do you film other Carnival?" Looking at Fayth, at the camera in her hands.

Fayth, and me, swapping grins.

Fetching things from my saddlebag, and the the next few hours it's show and tell.

Books, for each of the previous two Carnivals we made, sold, books. Thick leather bound things, full of glossy photos both of Carnival actually happening, and Carnival behind the scenes. Scattered throughout both are pages of text, thoughts and observations from those of us who worked the shows, populated the maze.

Letting the three of them look, Fayth and me stepped back, peering occasionally over shoulders and passing comment. The two books being my own personal copies, where most of the photos are signed by the featured- bound -model, sometimes with a short added comment. Each inside cover bearing signatures of the half dozen, alongside me, who created Carnival.

Daniel and Shauna, Trevor, and though she wasn't a part of the maze, Fayth's scribble is there in the second- European theatre tour -book.

And following the books, we watch the film.

Hooking my laptop to the large flatscreen, bought and delivered in readiness for today, and future uses. We filmed a ton of backstage footage for both Carnivals, prep work and practice, models being tied, struggling. The plan being we'd watch it back, see what worked and what didn't from an audience perspective.

Last night I went through what I had, cutting and pasting, making one long clip from sever hours of various shorter clips. Picking and choosing, turning several hours into fourty odd minutes.

Which we all sit- largely in silence -and watch.

"Missed the boat on Carnival." Tempest, sat beside me and leaning in, whispering like a conspiracy, except she simply doesn't want to disturb the others.

Triggering my proximity sense though. None of us are exactly dressed properly, Fayth being the only one actually wearing a bra, she and I the only ones in jeans, because of the bikes.

Tempest's blood red dress, some kind of short sleeved wrap breasts pushed and offered up by her tightly laced black underbust corset, the wrap arranged to be wide open above, only really hiding the nipples, the fronts. Everything else is plainly on show.

Impossible to tell whether she's flirting or not, we're all of us- models -somewhat forward, mostly ignoring such important things as personal space, due to the work. Pushing her chest at my face, leaning in mostly places my canons in hers too.

"The tour?"
"The Birmingham show." Shaking her head. "Fuck but I'd of loved to be a part of that." Waving at the flatscreen, the images.

"Didn't even know about the tour."
"Not enough time to advertise properly." A shrug, leaning in towards her, whispering too and I know I'm not- Dorothy -flirting. "For either. Think on the exhibition run we mostly reached out to friends?"
"We aren't friends, then?"

The other three glancing up, around as my laughter breaks the somewhat intense mood that'd been growing: everyone becoming sucked in by Carnival, the spectacle of it.

"Somehow." Small shrug, this small yet busy industry. "It seems we've yet to collaborate."
"We should change that."
"Sure." Nodding, always ready to work, except. "Carnival first though."
"Plenty of time." Smiling, at me.

Flirting? Not a clue but she's out of luck if so. Keeping the small frown internal, battling with a smile: it's been awhile since I've had a reason to fend off potential interested parties. And I've got to say, it feels nice, warm, to know there's someone out there waiting to greet me with a smile.

"Right, so." Laptop off, still plugged in but both screens gone to black, and me back up standing before the other four.

Plymouth, in charge or at least pretending to be.

"Monday. Wednesday. Friday and Saturday. The arena hosts various shows throughout the late afternoon and evening, most days. We'll be on from twenty-two thirty until twenty-three thirty. An hour, no intermission.

Short. Fun. Hopefully.

"Introduction." Miming a top hat, sweeping it off and bowing. Flipping Fayth off as she mock claps me. "Which I'll figure out. Welcome to Carnival and blah and talking."
"Like before?"
"Like before." Nodding at Maria, and they've seen the footage, now. Plymouth: Master of Ceremonies.

"I'm thinking three actual things." Seesawing a hand. "Including prep and take down, after. Five minutes for a farewell at the end, take a bow. I feel like three well chosen and enacted bondage slash Carnival things would fill the time nicely."

"Well." Roxy, looking at each of us. For support? "Going to take a reasonable amount of time, just for binding and freeing. Right?"
"True." Fayth, nodding agreement whilst looking at me, shared memories. "And the bondage should be fast, but not rushed."
"Because of showmanship?"
"People are coming to see us get tied up." Tempest, adding to Maria's point.

"It's a fine line we'll be walking." Sitting, half leaning on the table. "We can't draw the bondage out, but no, we can't be rushing it either. People who come to Carnival are coming because." Emphasising the word. "Of the fact we'll all be getting bound."

Three white boards fixed to a wall, a pile of pads and pens, a crate full of rope and chains, other such fun things we could use to bind each other. The five of us get to work, sometimes breaking into groups, pairs and more. And at one point, towards the end of day two the rest of us, slowly becoming aware and stopping our own research, fascinated.

Slightly amused.

All of us watching Roxy, stood with her back to the room, marker in hand being frequently tapped against her lips. Frowning, scribbling and annotating something onto the white board.

Turning, eventually and with a grin, opening her mouth to summon us all only to find the four of us sat or standing, watching her.

"Oh...?" Grin dropping off her face, resurfacing as we all begin laughing. Roxy laughing too, blushing at the attention.

Showing us, explaining her work and.

"That." Glancing up at the ceiling, exposed girders. Handy. "Sounds really brilliant."

And somewhere in the middle of it all: stripped to my bra and thong.

Because by this point we've mostly decided to perform- introduction aside -Carnival wearing bikinis, and so we're mostly all, already stripped down.

Volunteering, leading from the front and it's got absolutely nothing to do with my preference for being bound over watching others get bound. Honest. Maria and Tempest with the ropes, Roxy- her idea -pacing laps and supervising, Fayth with the camera, because who else.

Tempest supporting me, taking the weight and guiding whilst Maria and Roxy pull. Wrists bound behind and elbows too, both pinned to my upper body, my waist. F cups squeezed. Legs pinned side by side at knees, upper thighs and ankles.

Slowly leaving the ground, pulled upwards by the feet whilst Tempest sometimes lifts, sometimes cuddles me, my breasts and crotch in her face, hers in mine. Unable to avoid breathing in the scent of her, a baseline arousal that stems from my bondage, from our lack of clothes.

Helpless, knowing Tempest in turn can smell me, my own enjoyment clear, nipples erect and poking at the lace of my bra.

And it all hits me: the situation, the normalcy for me of it all, of being- semi -naked and the whole sex angle of bondage.

Right.

"Brooke?"
"Hey pretty lady." Smiling, still riding the high of my confession and Dorothy's willingness to try. That she didn't, hasn't and I don't think she ever will hold it over me.

I'm not a fucking doormat either, so, playing that or any game wouldn't get Dorothy very far, but still.

Dorothy smiling back, dressed in an oversized blue 'White Fox' pullover hoodie and apparently nothing else, thick legs nothing but skin, feeling something uncoil and stir within, wanting to touch them, her.

"Am I disturbing anything?"
"Minecraft." A shrug. "I'm base building but." Laughing. "Fucking creepers, I shut it down five minutes ago."
"Want some company?"

Stepping forward as Dorothy holds out her hand, leaning in to share a kiss. Happy tingle in my belly as she takes my hand, leading the way upstairs and right, into her room.

"Want to." Sitting on her bed and me perched on the sofa arm, licking her lips. "You could stay, or we could...."
"You know I'm a model, right?"
"Sure." Nodding, small frown crossing her face.

Where am I going with this?

"I work with other models. Girls." Standing, unable to sit still. "You know the kind of work I do?"
"The bondage stuff." Nodding, not seeming especially bothered and that's good, but still I feel this needs to be said.

"I'm." Clicking both fingers, a mismatched tempo. Stopping myself. "You know it's a part of who I am, that I tie up, get tied up. For work."
"Brooke I know all this." Still unbothered, a shrug. "You're a model, sex work and stuff."
"Sex." Nodding. "And I'm into it, the bondage. So I'll always enjoy the work, I'll get a thrill out of it."

Does it matter? Will Dorothy care and has she already worked this out?

"We can't do this if you aren't going to be okay with others binding and fucking me."
"For work."
"For work." Swatting the fact away. "But because of who I am, I'll always enjoy it, it'll always mean something for me. Can you live with that, live with me, knowing the fact?"
"Can I date you, knowing that at work you'll be super happy and probably climaxing your tits off?"

Said with a smile, humour. Frowning as she sees I'm not smiling too.

"Brooke." A shrug. "I don't care."
"But."
"Will you want these. Girls?" Voice even, not mad and we're talking, not arguing. "Will you leave me for some model if she gets you off?"
"No."
"Will you be thinking of them, thinking of the shoot you just did earlier whilst I'm binding you? Whilst."

Standing and crossing the distance, and me gone still, watching her come.

Wanting her.

"Will you be thinking of someone else," brushing hair off my face, "whilst we're fucking?"
"No." Smiling now, tilting my head to kiss her hand, lingering on my cheek and I'm being honest. Yes, there are times I fantasise, times I daydream. But so does everyone.

But.

But, when I've had someone, when I've had someone I've cared about, who cared about me in return then no, I've never let work or fantasy seep into reality.

I love being bound, teased and toyed and fucked.

But I love them most of all with someone I'm falling for, someone falling for me.

"I want you to think about it though." Stepping away from Dorothy, walking to her door and turning. "Please. Because I think I'm falling for you, deeply and without hopes of recovering my crash dive, and I'm happy to keep plunging into this unknown, so long as it's because of you, so. Think, make sure you really are okay with what I do. And then come let me know."

Blowing her a kiss, a smile and Dorothy smiling back, nodding to show she understands, all whilst blushing. At my words, at what I just admitted.

The first small tickles of love, for her.

Leaving.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
No point picking out and commenting on every one, of your comments to my writings

Thank you, though.

Yeah, I understand why

And appreciate the appreciation.

-

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago The joke of it: the mismatch of her on a newly bought- old -moped, followed through Blackpool by me on the Hayabusa, ten times as noisy, power barely contained.

Well *some* people prefer not to drive around at breakneck speeds (or alternatively have a bunch of useless power)

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "Somehow." Small shrug, this small yet busy industry. "It seems we've yet to collaborate."
"We should change that."

I mean, I would say what they are doing now counts as 'collaboration'. So yes, flirting

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Plymouth, in charge or at least pretending to be.

Well, in fairness, all power, not just in bondage, is ultimately bestowed externally - which means pretending is good enough as long as people believe it. Fake it until you make it and all that

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Because by this point we've mostly decided to perform- introduction aside -Carnival wearing bikinis, and so we're mostly all, already stripped down.

Not an actual criticism, but I would count this as a missed opportunity - lots of options for incorporating clothes/costumes/outfits in various creative ways into a performance of this sort. And I do not even mean the type of stuff you might see in a typical 'shoot', since there is not much point trying to make a pared down and rushed version of something that already exists in abundance. But that is just an idle thought, not a desire/request for something to change.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "I want you to think about it though." Stepping away from Dorothy, walking to her door and turning. "Please. Because I think I'm falling for you, deeply and without hopes of recovering my crash dive, and I'm happy to keep plunging into this unknown, so long as it's because of you, so. Think, make sure you really are okay with what I do. And then come let me know."

Ah yes, another (last?) attempt at self-sabotage. The old 'I'm not literally perfect, so I am not worthy of being loved by anyone'. Which is logic with quite obvious flaws.

But half-joking aside, it is heartwarming to see Brooke open up more and be honest about things. Rather then what she so often does, the 'game' she always plays with never wanting to admit *just* how into bondage she is, even as she secretly wants people to take it 'a little too far'. Nothing fundamentally wrong with that in a vacuum, as it can be fun as part of the game, but it does not make a good basis for a committed, long term relationship when the expectations and boundaries are kept intentionally vague.

Please Brooke - don't mess this up with Dorothy.....

Although keep having fun - the mixture of emotions continues to drive this story forward

Keep it up

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago
Well *some* people prefer not to drive around at breakneck speeds (or alternatively have a bunch of useless power)

And where's the fun in that?

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "Somehow." Small shrug, this small yet busy industry. "It seems we've yet to collaborate."
"We should change that."

I mean, I would say what they are doing now counts as 'collaboration'. So yes, flirting

Definitely flirting but it's all one sided.

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Because by this point we've mostly decided to perform- introduction aside -Carnival wearing bikinis, and so we're mostly all, already stripped down.

Not an actual criticism, but I would count this as a missed opportunity.

And you aren't wrong. However I liked the idea, the visualisation of them in bikinis. The thought process being that some- not all but a percentage -bondage is performed in the nude, which won't go down well on stage, and so what can we wear that's close to nude, whilst still covering the required areas?

Perhaps with more time, whilst writing, I'd of expanded as you suggest, but I'm happy with my choice.

tickletied84 wrote: 1 month ago Please Brooke - don't mess this up with Dorothy.....

Wrote this literally whilst I was commenting on the comment above

Thanks for stopping by though and with luck she won't, mess this up.

Final three chapters posting below, they're all written so why not

Might seem light on certain details, but that's mostly down to how things have evolved along the way. Aside from which I could use a break from writing Plymouth.

Not necessarily the final end, more a pause, should I decide to continue....

023.

Like something out of a horror movie, a thriller. Weird and- after the event, looking back -fucked up regardless.

Friday, and radio silence from Dorothy, so far. Whether because she actually is taking several- three, so far -days to think through what I said, or she might be busy, snowed under with work.

Or, suppressing a shiver whenever the thought occurs, she might be walking away, from me. Ending things.

No point working a seven day week, not when all we're doing is practicing, working out the what and how of Carnival. So, Friday afternoon and winding down.

Phone ringing, crossing the room to where our clothes are a messy pile. Tossing Maria's jeans aside and finding my own, pulling the phone and answering without looking.

"Brooke."
"Brooke." Half muffled by Tempest's playful shout from across the room, the pale goth trussed and about to be gagged, and there's definitely something there, some various attempts at forming a closeness beyond the working relationship we're all building.

Often manoeuvring herself to either bind or be bound by me, accompanied by these occasional flirt heavy comments.

"Put it away Plymouth, I'm waiting for my gag."
"Hush." Half shouted back, with a smile before speaking into my phone.

"Sorry, who is-"
"-Brooke."
"Dorothy?"
"I'm." Pausing, sounds of breathing down the line and in the background: traffic, muted. "Think I'm being followed?"
"What?"
"Sorry." Background noise, rustling like adjusting the phone. "I. Um."

Multiple thoughts competing to be heard: where is she, who, how does she know, think she knows? What the fuck?

"Don't be." Waving Fayth off, half approached, giving me a frown. "Where are you?"
"Almost home. I...."
"What?"
"I thought, and it's silly. You know." Small laugh echoing down the line. "But I went into Sainsbury's, got off the bus a stop earlier and went shopping, and they followed me. I fucking swear."

Frustration, clear in her voice.

"Who?"
"I don't know." Pausing, breathing. "Some guy, I think? Baggy black hoodie and joggers. Jeans?"
"Right."

Fuck everything else, I'm going.

"Go inside. Lock the door. I'm coming."
"Right." Sounding calmer. "Thanks, Brooke."
"All good."

Tossing my phone, throwing everyone's clothes around in a mad hunt for mine. Calling out to the warehouse, to the others, telling them we're closing up early.

"See you Monday." Pointing. "Maria, Roxy. Help Tempest down."
"Everything...." Fayth, suddenly beside me, holding out my white cropped 'Power of Dreams' tee, a Honda slogan from some advertising campaign or other. "Okay?"
"Yeah."

Pausing to look at her, and I'm going alone, to help or whatever. Some guy? Likely nothing bad, likely just some idiot who doesn't understand flirting and the right- non creepy -way to approach a girl you're interested in.

But.

"Do me a favour."
"Sure." Nodding, making a note and nodding again, checking the time, as do I, working out what time it'll matter. Possibly.

Outside, powering up the Hayabusa and roaring away, weaving through traffic thoughts full of Dorothy. And it's nothing, some guy already likely walked off and so we can talk.

She can tell me how it's all okay, that she's happy just as I'm happy, and we can move forward with this whole dating thing we've been growing.

Pulling up outside, the converted house- a big house -has it's own turnaround style driveway, residents cars parked at a raked angle in front of the building and there's a white van here. Builders? I'm not a regular enough visitor to know.

Yet.

Next to the van is the pipe- emerging from the house and making a sharp turn downwards, plunging underground -I usually lock the bike too, which I do this time.

Looking around, no sign of anyone, walking a lap of the house, back garden a large open thing, the house sat in the middle of the lot.

Nobody, certainly no guy dressed in baggy black.

Stopping at the door, taking a deep breath as I push the ringer for Dorothy's flat.

Coughing, doubled over and coughing, eyes watering, stinging. Some kind of powder having exploded into my face. Swallowing a lung full, an equal amount making my nose burn.

Bent over, head gone funny as though suddenly there are no details. Like, I know who I am, but I can't remember why I'm here, what the point to anything is?

Pliable, I'll realise later, is the correct word for how I feel, right now. Open to suggestion, confused and disorientated enough to not know the truth for myself, mellow enough to believe what I'm told.

To go with the flow.

Sound of the door opening and I straighten, look up, blinking my eyes back into focus and finding Kira, leaning in the opening. Barefoot and bare legs, vanishing inside an oversized blue 'White Fox' pullover hoodie. Apparently wearing nothing else.

Kira, who I- love? -like, who smiles at me, feeling myself grin in return.

"Hi baby."
"Hi, pretty." Shaking myself, staring at Kira's outstretched hand, at that hoodie. Way too big for her slender frame. "Lady?"
"Coming in?"
"I." Sort it out Brooke, you came here to see- someone -her. "Yes."

"I'm playing Minecraft." Talking back over her shoulder as we walk upstairs, taking the first right, that small landing. "Okay?"
"Sure." Minecraft, and she's base building? "If you'd rather I left, though?"
"You can stay." In her room now, Kira closing the door, lock clicking into place and walking around me, stopping to plant a kiss on my cheek, arm trailing down and round, gripping my butt, pulling me closer. "But...."
"But you don't want to be disturbed."

Grinning, leaning in to kiss her too. Feeling a tingle in my pussy, looking at Kira's bed, playing host to a pile of ropes, other assorted toys.

Feeling the oncoming game like a shiver, something I want to play, with her. Kira, who I- love -like.

Who I came here to see?

My, girlfriend? Kira?

Submitting. Letting Kira strip me, touching me all over as she does, loving the feel of her trailing hands, fingers topped by sharp nails, occasionally digging in.

Removing her pants and I open wide, obedient. Tasting Kira, her arousal in my mouth, cotton sealed in, pressed against my tongue by the ballgag, a full head harness.

Taking her time binding me, fingers trailing often over my skin, as though she hasn't touched me in forever, as though we didn't fuck- tied her to my bed, in thirteen but why would I do that and walk out -in a hotel room, a handful of days ago.

Wrists and elbows behind, yanking at the ropes, making me moan and smiling at the fact. Breasts wrapped and bound into an under over harness, squeezed, tingling more because of it.

Lubing up a butt plug, a dildo. Neither of which are small, each toy thick enough, sizeable enough to make me gasp, feeling myself stretched and filled, discomfort at the invasion mixing with pleasure, being used by Kira.

How we both like it?

Crotch rope to keep things in place, binding my legs at ankles and knee, too, pinning them together whilst I stand, wobbling slightly fighting to stay balanced.

Standing before me, smiling. Being a fucking tease. Tugging on my crotch rope, each small insistent pull causing both plug and dildo to prod deeper into me. Other hand on my breasts, feeling me up, groping and pinching, not being gentle. Taking, dominating.

Bringing me to the peak, double time up the hill no stopping to enjoy the view, working me over, pushing and bullying the orgasm.

Only to- bitch, controlling fucking teasing fucking damn but I love it -pull away at the last instant. Stepping back and turning, completely ignoring my gag muffled howl of frustration.

Walking to the sofa, sitting down and picking up the controller, Minecraft entrance screen right there.

Kira, not turning to look, patting the empty cushion beside her and clicking start.

Forced to hop across the room, slowly lest I fall, and each hop, each thudding landing bringing a jolt straight through me, plug and dildo shaken and pushed by the impact, riding up inside and it's a wonder I don't cum just from making the journey.

Arriving, finally, sweaty and out of breath, horny beyond frustrated belief but receiving no respite from Kira. Nothing beyond a brief pat on the leg, a grin and.

"Don't worry, I'll fuck you later, and maybe tomorrow since you'll still be trussed to the bed when we wake up."

Imagery and promises to make me moan with want and desire, Kira's words calling to the deep core of me, overjoyed at the prospect of remaining in bondage- yes she'll free me, but presumably only to move me to the bed, at some point when she decides -for the next fourteen odd hours.

Settling back on the sofa, content, happy. Dull ache and throbbing in my pussy like a tease, a constant reminder of my situation, as are the various points of flaring itching discomfort from the tight ropes.

Happy though, and- why is her hoodie so big, why if Kira lives here, so close, don't we see more of each other -turning my attention to the flatscreen.

Watching Kira play.

Becoming confused? Because whilst I don't own Minecraft I have played it, have talked at length with those who spend hours on it. And it's pretty obvious she's doing it wrong.

Kira's base is large, yes a half built thing, but impressive, as are the shear quantity of items in her various chests, all sorted and stored with handy signs above each, telling at the contents. So why does she chop half her house down for wood, instead of finding a tree, or raiding a chest?

Why use an axe to cut stone?

Why spend a half hour underground, muttering about 'fucking obsidian' when there's a Nether portal built, lit, within her base? Why go underground at all without any torches, and without her diamond pickaxe.

I'm actually glad of the gag, otherwise I'd be telling Kira what to do, pointing out her many- rookie -mistakes and possibly be halfway through a spanking for my efforts.

After about an hour Kira gives up anyway, her base mostly ruined and at least half the good armour and weapons gone, multiple deaths where she didn't even try returning to the scene to retrieve her stuff.

"Must be having an off day." Laughing, shaking her head whilst leaning in close, unbuckling and tossing my harness ballgag, small nod as I spit out her pants.

"So." Leaning back, slightly sat apart. "Hi."
"Hi." Stretching my jaw, looking at her and smiling back.

Kira shifting, pushing herself up to the end and turning sideways on, one leg straightening out the other at right angles, hanging off the sofa. Leaning back and I take her silent cue, shifting. Laying down, head in Kira's crotch lips inches from her exposed not wearing pants pussy.

Ready and willing to kiss, to lick just as she did for- then why did I bind her back to the bed and leave, or did she come to the casino with me -me.

Plug and dildo shifting as I shift, forcing a small moan.

"Happy?"
"Fucking, going crazy actually." Laughing softly, voice soft as is hers. Intimate. "But I won't ask you to take them out." Planting a small kiss on her pussy lips, finding them wet. "I won't beg."
"Even if I want you to?"
"Well...."

Blushing. Kira deliberately, slowly taking hold of my nipple and- slowly -twisting. Further and more. Biting my lip, eyes watering and still she applies pressure.

Letting go, leaning in to kiss at the now tender budded skin.

Slipping my tongue inside her slit, tracing a line up her by way of thank you.

"Going to bind you to the bed tonight."
"Okay."
"Not letting you bind me." Small shake of her head. "Not this time."
"Not." Shaking my bound canons at her, smiling. "In a position to argue. Am I."

"Would you though?"
"Argue?"
"Keep me?" Half smile, thoughtful. "Bind me."
"Yes." Fidgeting, to be thinking about binding her, whilst bound. A sudden rush of frustration that I can't simply do, can't show her.

"And how." Placing her hand on my crotch rope and tugging, once. Making me flex, crotch lifting and I moan, feeling the toys inside shift. "Would you bind me?"
"What." Pausing to whimper as Kira runs long nails down my inner thigh, kissing her own in response. "Am I allowed to do?"
"Anything." Gleam in her eyes, hand settling back on my crotch rope.

Gently tugging as we talk, getting me off Kira's other hand gone to her own crotch, fingers slipping inside.

"I'd put these toys in you."
"Both."
"Both." Nodding, biting my lip a moment. "Crotch rope them tight inside. And then I'd put you in a sleep sack."

Kira gasping, me gasping in the aftermath as her spike of pleasure causes a harsh tug on my crotch rope.

"Could we kiss?"
"No." Feeling the high building, only half aware of the path my voiced thoughts are wandering down. "Total enclosure, sensory deprivation and I'd wrap chains all around the sack. Lock you in for good."
"For. Good?"
"All, fucking, night." Myself in the sack, forgetting I'm telling Kira her- imagined -bondage, in my thoughts the sack has closed around me, chains I can halfway feel, wrapping and pressing into my slender toned limbs. Absence of sound or light.

Total helplessness.

Not realising Kira's left until she's at the door, sudden awareness that I've been hearing the insistent, loud knocking for over a minute.

Still haven't managed to climax damn it.

Pausing, deep breath and a look back across the room at me, having peered through the spyhole. Something like sadness, before Kira opens the door.

Revealing Fayth?

Who I asked, for some fucking reason? To come and disturb this glorious afternoon with my girlfriend.

Kira.

024.

Blackpool North station, where Fayth had arrived not so long ago, a terminus with dead end platforms, trains coming and going.

A place for goodbyes.

"Here."
"I could've-"
"-No." Cutting her off, Kira. "Maybe I owe you something? An apology." Shrugging. "So, I'm sorry, and now I've paid for you to leave, and now you can."

Rubbing at her eye, turning a wonderful shade of purple and no doubt it hurts, and that isn't what I'm sorry for.

Freed, by Fayth and led outside. Still naked but- porn stars, wired different -neither of us actually noticed. A fact we'll laugh about some unknown time later, retelling the story. Outside and sobering up, blast of fresh air and prickles across my skin.

Checking the van, using the keys Kira- grudgingly -surrendered. Finding Dorothy in the back, laid on her back inside a cage, bolted to the wooden floor by way of metal half hoops, the screw fixings power drilled into the wood, no way to free her without reversing the task, setting the drill on counterclockwise.

Dorothy, blinking at me as I blink back, even trying to smile around the ballgag filling her mouth.

Anger, rising like a tidal wave, the force propelling me back inside, face set the whole world of detail gone blurry, only Kira in focus, small smile as she sees me returning, to her. Dropping off as she notes my pace, my blazing eyes and if looks could kill.

Lashing out, and I don't fight like a girl. I'm a King, and this isn't my first scrap.

Kira, thrown backwards onto the sofa by my right hook and it's only Fayth, holding me back that saves her from more. Spitting on her though, animal growl from deep inside and I stalk away.

Back to Dorothy.

Waiting with Fayth now, in the station car park, back at the van and Kira's lucky, should consider herself lucky she isn't in that cage, in the back.

Or worse.

"I'm not sorry for the eye." Shaking my head. "Consider yourself lucky I didn't rip you apart."

Kira, half a laugh, quickly drying up as she no doubt takes in my serious face. Taking no shit.

"If it was up to." My girlfriend, fuck but I hope so. "Dorothy you'd be heading back South trussed up naked in a packing crate, or locked in that cage, in that van and left in some motorway services."
"I...."
"No." Shaking my head. "I don't want to hear sorry, or anything from you. I think we're beyond that. I said I owed an apology, and I've given it. So we're done."

"I just wanted...." Insisting on talking anyway, fuck and damn it. I huff, cutting her off with a sweep of my hands. Softening my tone with an effort.

"It's who I am." Looking down at myself, and I won't change the fundamental facts of me, lover of bondage and helplessness. Which probably means I'm doomed to repeat this again some day?

Which is likely why I breathe, and try not to shout at Kira.

"I gave you too many green lights, never said stop or no. I did that." Nodding. "I can own that. I've led you on the whole way, making you believe this stalker slash obsession shit was okay. Welcomed, even."

"But last time we met I did say stop, I fucking." Stopping, breathing and putting my hands up, calming because as my voice had climbed Kira had flinched.

Seeing something in me she doesn't like: the biker girl, the part of me unwilling to play, to submit, and she's small, often ignored.

But she's there.

"I told you no. I said enough. And instead you went and kidnapped my." Girl? "Friend, you drugged and coerced me into being some submissive plaything."

Burying the smile, not the time.

The fact I'm always ready and willing to be a submissive plaything. Which is how we're in this mess.

"So." Taking a step back. "Leave. Please, and don't ever come near me or mine again."

Staring at her. Hard. Eyes gone half slitted and mouth a firm line, waiting out Kira's open closed open mouth, her considered responses which might get her slapped.

Or thrown into the cage after all, which had been Dorothy's strong suggestion, almost carried in the raging season of my anger.

But she leaves, and in silence Fayth drives the van back to Dorothy's, dropping the two of us off, small hug and a kiss for me, and gone. Off to return the van to it's closest hire centre.

Leaving Dorothy and me alone, outside her house.

"Come inside."
"But."
"Yes." Already two steps away, towards that shared front door, Dorothy stopping and turning. Smiling at me.

Actually smiling.

"The answer to all your questions is yes." Raising a hand, ticking off on her raised fingers. "Is she a bitch. Am I mad. Do I need a cuddle." Small seesaw, a wink.

Playful.

"Possibly more. Did I think on what you said, and." Wiggling her thumb, dropping the other hand and holding one out to me, offering. "Am I okay, happy and willing and all that shit. Can we date despite you get paid to have sex and do bondage and you actually kind of like it and so on and so on and...."

Grinning at me. Cheeky, playful, despite what just happened: basically Dorothy just got kidnapped.

"I talked to Jenny, remember." Still waiting, hand still held out for me, voice slightly raised across the short distance. "Before, in Scotland. I knew what you were before I made a move. So." Giving me a hurry up wave with the outstretched hand. "We're doing this. I'm, doing this." Blowing me a kiss. "Doing you, Brooke. So let's go inside."

Waiting, and me still not moving, somewhat overwhelmed in honesty, I'd been expecting and mentally prepping for a talk, long and drawn out.

"Look." Having crossed the distance, taking my hand and a small squeeze, bringing me back to the room, to her. "We can't stay in a hotel everytime someone fucks up your house or mine. So...."

Moving away, again only this time holding my hand, which she gives a small tug and, smiling, I fall into step.

Inside. Both of us hungry yet in no mood to cook. Letting myself off, this one time, as Dorothy hunts through cupboards before returning with cans of- not diet -Pepsi and a wooden tray covered in chocolate bars and crisp packets, a plate holding two fancy looking blueberry muffins with a wedge of- not for me but I guess she does -butter.

Easy food, snack food. And I don't, usually. But we sit on the sofa, some movie playing background despite we don't talk, tray between us and Dorothy at least too busy eating to talk, really. And I eat, hungry and I've let myself off, finding the muffin delicious, taking and nibbling my way through the heaven of cheese Doritos, a single bar of Dairy Milk.

Full.

Unspoken, not asking but Dorothy runs a bath, lighting over a dozen candles keeping the main lights off all throughout the bedsit, finding something mellow on a small portable radio. More background.

Stripping, climbing into the bubble filled warm embrace of water, Dorothy- either purposeful on her part or it simply happens -in front, leaning back against me. My legs around her, feet resting in the gap of Dorothy's own spread legs. Her leaning back into me, as I lean back against the bath.

Silence, for awhile. Nothing but her occasional traced lines on my leg, my own across her belly.

Tilting her head every so often for a kiss.

Out of the blue, no warming or build-up.

"Have you ever been in a cage?"
"I." Caught out, words temporarily not there. Not shy, almost never shy, and though we didn't promise honesty, didn't say the words, what point doing otherwise?

Considering Dorothy knows me, is aware of my deeper- surrender junkie -self and hasn't run, I won't lie to her.

But still, it's hardly a normal question.

"Yes."
"For," tone thoughtful, "a shoot?"
"Yes."
"For play?"
"Yes." Depending on your definition of play, but I choose not to elaborate. Unsure if Dorothy's ready, if she'll ever particularly want to know just how deep the bondage iceberg goes.

"Are you okay," asking now, because she's bought it up. The worry having been there all along I just wasn't sure how and when to voice it. "Want to talk about it?"
"I'm okay." A nod.

Silence, Dorothy thinking and I wait.

"Scary. When I woke up." Laughing, only a small sliver of crazy. "Still can't remember being caught?"

Lapsing back into silence, thoughtful. Shaking her head.

"Probably drugged me the same as you?"
"Imagine so." Keeping the anger out with an effort, the sheer depths Kira had gone, to have me. And she must've known it wouldn't work, long term, yet she went there anyway.

"Listen." Deep breath, and it'll suck, and- being honest, with myself -long term it might drive us apart, because I know. Know, I won't be able to live without it, but there's always shoots, and Carnival. And I care about Dorothy, more each day, so I've got to be willing to try and sacrifice.

"I can keep work stuff at work, from now on."
"Work stuff?"
"Bondage." Voice level, casual. No big deal. "What happened to you was." Shaking my head. "Shit, and...."
"Shit about sums it up." Nodding.

"So, I can-"
"-I am okay, you know."
"Well I...." Didn't know, of course. "I'm trying to do the right thing." With a smile she can no doubt hear.

"I don't need you to do the right thing. Brooke." Smile in her voice too, Dorothy taking hold my hands, placing one down against her crotch and my other on her breast, pressing herself back into me. "I won't stop doing something I'm growing to lo-."

Blush climbing her neck and cheeks, despite she'd said something and not someone.

"I love." Leaning in to kiss her cheek, taking up the slack of Dorothy's stalled point. Helping. "That you love bondage, and I will always." Giving her breast a squeeze, Dorothy sighing. "Be up for playing with you."
"Because you're a rope slut."
"Because I get a kick out of corrupting innocent girls."

And sometimes you need, sometimes it helps to replace a bad memory with a good. And maybe we're both having this thought at the same time?

"Corrupt me now." Not asking, but not telling. Offering.

"Now?"
"Um." Like she's just had an idea, Dorothy all but springing from the bathtub, grabbing one of two towels folded atop the closed toilet seat. "Five minutes, then come down."
"Sure." Slipping back down into the water, watching with some small amusement as Dorothy quickly leaves, already drying herself off.

Giving it two minutes then climbing out, pulling the plug, taking my time to dry properly. No rush.

"One minute, then come down."
"One," calling back, "okay."

Counting a slow sixty, hanging my towel before leaving.

Having to pause halfway down the half dozen steps from bathroom to main room, amazed by what awaits me, letting my gaze track slowly down Dorothy as I descend into the room. Smile growing.

A red lace teddy hugs Dorothy's curves, moulded to the shape of her, emphasising the plump contours of her belly. A tee style collar below which the teddy splits open, a gentle crescent mirrored both sides, inner slopes of both breasts exposed the material closing back up, meeting at the crotch. Thong style thin strip running underneath,

A full harness gag, red ball filling her mouth matching the teddy, Dorothy's hair arranged around the straps.

Corrupting her, and yet Dorothy a willing player, allowing me to hogtie her, slowly, taking my time.

Hands running over her body, enjoying the feel of lace and skin. Taking her to heaven as she did me, not so long ago. Easing and tugging and guiding Dorothy towards multiple climaxes, my attentions on her almost like worship. Her moans growing in volume, body shifting beneath the lace and the ropes, squirming and flexing as I work her over.

Thrilling, losing herself to the pleasure of my touch.

Removing the gag but not the ropes, no protest from Dorothy, snuggling close to me, pressing her bound body against mine, laid on my back one arm around the curvy bulk of her, head tilted to the side so we can kiss.

Dorothy's eyes often straying to my breasts, canons rising vertical off my slim frame, that she can't touch or taste. Can't enjoy.

Moaning as I free one of hers from the lace teddy, leaning in to kiss her nipple, budding to erect life as I suck on it, Dorothy arching, crotch rubbing against my leg unable to do more.

Kissing, rolling her hogtied body atop mine, dry humping whilst we kiss, whilst I run hands through her hair and down Dorothy's back, nails digging in. Pain, and her gasping at the sensation, kissing me harder.

Corrupting.

But freeing her, because I could stay bound all night but Dorothy not so much, which is fine. Ropes removed and no sooner done then she's throwing herself at me. Overcome with passion, with the sloshing helpless urges to touch and taste me, now given freedom.

Fucking, furious and hard. Hands and mouths tracking all over each other, chasing a shared climax and I can't help, as we struggle and push and work off each other.

One eye and some of my attention on the piled ropes, the harness gag, everything just right there, waiting and if she wanted to, I wouldn't say no.

But I won't ask.

And yet Dorothy clearly sees me looking.

"Fuck but," kissing, face to face chest to chest, grinning at me from less then inches, "you're impossible."
"What?" Acting innocent, completely failing.

"I will." Like a challenge, punctuated by kisses, one hand on my butt, fingernail teasing up and down inside the crack, driving me wild. "If I bind you, I will keep you bound all." Kissing, sliver of evil mischief in her eyes. "Fucking." Finger prodding at, pressing and slipping just inside my butthole, making me gasp and squrim. "Night."
"I would. Love."

That dangerous word again, forced to stop as Dorothy's questing finger slides out, back in.

"To wake up next to you. Bound." Kissing her, forceful, hard. Raking nails down Dorothy's buttcheek. "And gagged."

Breaking apart, bathroom, taking care of things before returning to the bed. Her bed.

Laying still, submissive, willing. Dorothy binding me stretched and secured up one side of her bed, arms raised and pinned to the top frame, legs pinned and tied off to the other end.

Dorothy straddling me, harness gag in hand and I'm losing myself to the sight of her, hump of belly and breasts filling my immediate world. Smiling down at me.

"And," small frown, "you'll be okay?"
"Yes."
"Gagged too?"
"All night." I nod, shiver- that I can't run, don't want to run -chasing across me. And how many times have I surrendered willingly, stacked beside those times I've simply been taken.

Loving both, my personal curse.

"You've done this before?"
"Very little I haven't." Small laugh, and a smile because here in this moment neither of us should be thinking on past lovers, measuring ourselves against them. "Done before. But." Flexing, just my crotch, small rub against Dorothy's crotch, bringing a smile and that's better.

"It's only us. Only you, binding me. And only me, submitting, to you."
"Submitting." Smile growing, and of course she likes the word.

Who doesn't?

"And in the morning?"
"Well." Licking my lips. "I do have work...."

About as close as I'm willing to step, in the direction of the slippery slope of my willingness to roll over and be used. Not wanting to give Dorothy ideas, to ruin what is fast becoming something good, something I want.

Not wanting to lead her into thinking she can own and control me, because right now she's a bondage rookie, somewhat, likely unawares of the depths of it all.

Smile and a nod from her, leaning in, then, to buckle me in, shut me up.

Spending time, afterwards, enjoying me as I knew she would. Not climbing off, kissing my gagged lips, my breasts, working her way all over me before the yawns reach a point Dorothy can't fight off sleep.

Pulling the duvet up over us both, drifting off with one arm flung over me, snoring gently.

Epilogue.

The night before opening I dream of Carnival.

Nerves, tossing and turning and overthinking every, little, fucking detail. What if nobody comes, the old fear of any performer. What if nobody likes this new thing I've birthed.

Sleeping, eventually.

And dreaming Carnival. On stage, running the show through at speed, someone in a hurry, details, Fayth and the others somewhat blurred, lacking and all of us going through the motions yet the whole feeling unreal.

The auditorium deserted, the next moment full of blurred ghosts.

And. Finished, taking a bow. Holding the pose and: clapping. A single clap, slow yet not mocking, a measured thing and looking up it isn't hard to spot the source. To see her, the only other real looking thing here.

Standing, the centre of the centre row. A blonde schoolgirl, mid teens and slim, bare legs beneath a too short black skirt, blue shirt hugging a large bust. Smiling, somehow too wide for her face.

Taking a step forward and.

Onto the stage, suddenly right in front of flinching me, some kind of dreamworld only special effect. Still smiling.

"Wonderful." English, a young voice but at the same time not. Something behind those eyes.

"Do I." Staring, the feeling like an itch I'll never be able to scratch. "Know you?"
"Should fucking hope so." Laughing, and like the smile there's quite a lot of crazy leaking out at the edges.

"You never call, never ask." Nodding, to herself almost. "And we can respect that."
"Okay?"
"Point is." Taking a step closer, and leaning in, kissing my cheek and stepping back, all too fast I don't even have time to think, about flinching.

"You're doing great, Plymouth."

Stepping back, and further.

And I wake up, blinking, early morning sunlight leaking around the side of closed curtains, Dorothy stirring beside me.

My cheek, the phantom lingering sense of contact from the schoolgirls lips.

Carnival, going down an absolute storm. Not a full house for every show, too much to ask, but enough filled seats each time to justify Sam's coming to me, enough revenue generated, especially factoring in the merchandise, to cover costs several times over, and a percentage of that profit coming back to me, as per the contract.

Added to which each of us, the five models receive a bonus. This occurring due to: a week into our run and Sam calling a meeting, having already informed three of Wickwars more high rolling clientele that no, they can't meet the models.

Or can they?

So we negotiate, the five of us and Sam, a good natured argument where details are hammered out, contract additions signed. And in return for an equal five way split, of half the profit return, on Wednesdays and Fridays the five of us spend ninety minutes in one of the more plush conference rooms, sofas not tables. Ninety minutes of talking and being flirted with, of posing for photos and being good.

Dressed to impress, which means tight clothing and plenty of flesh. And Roxy aside we've all worked a convention, we know how to flirt back, to keep things on the right side of playful.

How to be friendly without being too friendly.

And between the four of us Roxy is watched, kept safe.

Trevor comes, and I clear an afternoon to wander the casino floor with him, a lap of the lake. Talking, and I'd find it hard to ever get bored of his company, a font of knowledge, a wealth of stories yet always willing and keen to listen, to hear about my world and my life.

Like before Carnival is something of a whirlwind, and for those several months I live, but Carnival is always there, tugging and stealing my attention, always the next show, the heady rush from being on stage, performing. The wall of noise each time the curtain goes down.

Until.

Finished.

Seeing Fayth off, promises to visit and apparently it's my turn next, and. Okay, sure, with enough planning anythings possible, it isn't like I haven't done a working tour of America before.

Winding down, relaxing. Yet there's barely enough time to even think about 'what now' before the email lands. And I laugh.

Out loud, Dorothy glancing up, small smile and interested.

The Forestry Commission, and- inflating my ego, but why not, and besides it's all a little too well timed -would I like to come to head office to discuss my future?

I would.

Silly question. Because I miss Brooke, because being just Plymouth was fun, a rush and a blast, but I miss Brooke, miss trees.

And besides, why can't I have both?

Before any of you shoot me

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
blonde schoolgirl

The thing is, having thought of it, the perhaps forbidden thing I've just gone and done. Having had the thought, how could I not go ahead and write it?

And, if you know who she- they -are, then we can be friends.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago
Well *some* people prefer not to drive around at breakneck speeds (or alternatively have a bunch of useless power)

And where's the fun in that?

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago
And you aren't wrong. However I liked the idea, the visualisation of them in bikinis. The thought process being that some- not all but a percentage -bondage is performed in the nude, which won't go down well on stage, and so what can we wear that's close to nude, whilst still covering the required areas?

Perhaps with more time, whilst writing, I'd of expanded as you suggest, but I'm happy with my choice.

Fair. As I said, was not really a criticism, just a thought. 'Ideal circumstances' and all that.

-

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "I'm." Pausing, sounds of breathing down the line and in the background: traffic, muted. "Think I'm being followed?"

...Oh dear...

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Stopping at the door, taking a deep breath as I push the ringer for Dorothy's flat.

Coughing, doubled over and coughing, eyes watering, stinging. Some kind of powder having exploded into my face. Swallowing a lung full, an equal amount making my nose burn.

Sounds like something out of a spy movie

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Pliable, I'll realise later, is the correct word for how I feel, right now. Open to suggestion, confused and disorientated enough to not know the truth for myself, mellow enough to believe what I'm told.

To go with the flow.

Ah yes the perfectly dosed plot device drugs

Joking aside, quite the trippy experience, although one has to wonder exactly what Kira's long term plan was here. Revenge of sorts, I suppose, with her pointlessly messing with Dorothy's game. And probably more then a little desperation.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "If it was up to." My girlfriend, fuck but I hope so. "Dorothy you'd be heading back South trussed up naked in a packing crate, or locked in that cage, in that van and left in some motorway services."

I mean, being honest, Kira should count herself lucky to not be arrested (not that there are not believable reasons as to why it did not play out that way).

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "I gave you too many green lights, never said stop or no. I did that." Nodding. "I can own that. I've led you on the whole way, making you believe this stalker slash obsession shit was okay. Welcomed, even."

"But last time we met I did say stop, I fucking." Stopping, breathing and putting my hands up, calming because as my voice had climbed Kira had flinched.

Glad to see Brooke standing up for herself again, even if the undercurrent of self doubt is not entirely gone.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "Corrupt me now." Not asking, but not telling. Offering.

Ironic, the depth of meaning behind that notion. Yet another example of the dynamics of the bizarre opposite world that is bondage...

And a lovely scene between Dorothy and Brooke - a great way to cap off the story.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "And in the morning?"
"Well." Licking my lips. "I do have work...."

About as close as I'm willing to step, in the direction of the slippery slope of my willingness to roll over and be used. Not wanting to give Dorothy ideas, to ruin what is fast becoming something good, something I want.

Not wanting to lead her into thinking she can own and control me, because right now she's a bondage rookie, somewhat, likely unawares of the depths of it all.

What is that you are doing there, Brooke? Establishing healthy boundaries? Are you sure Kira did not switch you out for a double?

Joking aside, makes me happy to see.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Talking, and I'd find it hard to ever get bored of his company, a font of knowledge, a wealth of stories yet always willing and keen to listen, to hear about my world and my life.

Well, one might argue that being able to stop and listen is part of how one becomes a font of knowledge

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Might seem light on certain details, but that's mostly down to how things have evolved along the way. Aside from which I could use a break from writing Plymouth.

The obvious being the lack of details on Carnival, and of course, the minor side plot with Tempest. But I do agree that it makes sense to end it here, rather then drag things out with endless epilogues.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Not necessarily the final end, more a pause, should I decide to continue....

Well, even if it does turn out to be the final conclusion of Brooke's tale, it is certainly a good note to end on. Happiness. Balance returning to her life. Healing. The start of it, at least.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago A blonde schoolgirl, mid teens and slim, bare legs beneath a too short black skirt, blue shirt hugging a large bust. Smiling, somehow too wide for her face.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago The thing is, having thought of it, the perhaps forbidden thing I've just gone and done. Having had the thought, how could I not go ahead and write it?

And, if you know who she- they -are, then we can be friends.

I mean... does this count a a self-insert? Quite the 'illegal' crossover/meta-commentary, conveniently lampshaded as a dream

But it sounds like a certain character is sick of being trapped in authorial limbo, and is itching to get back out onto the page... into a different form of being trapped, I suppose

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago
Ah yes the perfectly dosed plot device drugs

Necessary under the circumstances, needed some manner for Kira to have one last play, without permission since Brooke had chosen Dorothy. My decided method of exit for Kira being an overstep of the mark, going to far. And so yes, we have something (the drugs) which probably don't do anything like this in reality but artistic license is helpful

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago
I mean, being honest, Kira should count herself lucky to not be arrested (not that there are not believable reasons as to why it did not play out that way).

Can't say for every writer here but my stories are littered with instances of TUG related things for which there aught to be serious consequences. But this isn't reality, and so madness is allowed

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago "I gave you too many green lights, never said stop or no. I did that." Nodding. "I can own that. I've led you on the whole way, making you believe this stalker slash obsession shit was okay. Welcomed, even."

"But last time we met I did say stop, I fucking." Stopping, breathing and putting my hands up, calming because as my voice had climbed Kira had flinched.

Glad to see Brooke standing up for herself again, even if the undercurrent of self doubt is not entirely gone.

Worked out well in the end, Brooke managing to assert herself, managing to avoid the trap of telling Dorothy exactly how much free reign she has.

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Might seem light on certain details, but that's mostly down to how things have evolved along the way. Aside from which I could use a break from writing Plymouth.

The obvious being the lack of details on Carnival, and of course, the minor side plot with Tempest. But I do agree that it makes sense to end it here, rather then drag things out with endless epilogues.

Evolution of the story. Originally this was going to be Brooke does Carnival, and meets/falls for someone not linked to bondage along the way. A good contrast it would've been, a chance to show Brooke and Plymouth.

And then at some point I wrote in Kira and she kind of took over the narrative, because I found the thread of her becoming obsessed and didn't want to put it down, was enjoying the new direction. And therefore Carnival became like an aside, not necessary to dive into detail because the story had changed to a Brooke/Kira/Dorothy triangle.

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 month ago

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago A blonde schoolgirl, mid teens and slim, bare legs beneath a too short black skirt, blue shirt hugging a large bust. Smiling, somehow too wide for her face.

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago The thing is, having thought of it, the perhaps forbidden thing I've just gone and done. Having had the thought, how could I not go ahead and write it?

And, if you know who she- they -are, then we can be friends.

I mean... does this count a a self-insert? Quite the 'illegal' crossover/meta-commentary, conveniently lampshaded as a dream

But it sounds like a certain character is sick of being trapped in authorial limbo, and is itching to get back out onto the page... into a different form of being trapped, I suppose

My own fault

RopeBunny wrote: 1 month ago Ah, but ultimately Brooke/Plymouth is a favourite of mine, 'loved and chosen of the Bunny' and so forth

I wrote this, a throwaway thing and yet the seed grew.

What if the Bunny actually did care? And from there the dream sequence took shape

Thanks for commenting along the way. Probably Brooke will return, continue I've just not a clue how at this stage. Regardless I'm sure they'll be something posted somewhere by me soon

Wonderful ending - very glad that despite the moderate peril, Brooke ended up with Dorothy. Here's hoping they have some happy rope filled times ahead (in the unwritten universe!)