Stories of Tie Up Games

I think icy has made a mistake. She is letting her emotions rule her and she is physically tired. I wouldn't be surprised if she spends the night bound and gagged in the gym for her trouble.

Jynx is proven physically capable and not as tired as icy would be. I think icy is about to get dismantled.

In another lifetime, Ms Hawtrey’s dear old mother had had herself quite the green thumb. It had started with a pair of hanging pots, brimming with petunias. Their lovely spectrum of white and pink and purple petals were among Hawtrey’s oldest memories. From there, she retained a faint recollection of some dahlias, and short-lived tulips. But the flowers that stood out above all the others, were the roses. Unsurprising, considering that they were mum’s unchallenged favourite.

The fine lady had developed somewhat of an obsession with Great Britain’s national flower around the time young Hawtrey was ascending into adolescence, and they had populated the balcony, porch, and courtyard ever since. In fact, they were planted in such abundance that Ms Hawtrey still half expected to be assailed with sweet aromas every time she set foot outdoors.

Truth be told, a rose had always just looked like a rose to Ms Hawtrey; but her mother wouldn’t stand for such apathy, and had made jolly well certain that her daughter was capable of distinguishing an English rose from a China rose.

From what Ms Hawtrey could recall of mum’s teachings, the lifeless flakes of plastic in front of her to trying to pass off as Grandifloras.

‘Bah,’ Hawtrey thought to herself. ‘I must look so silly right now, bent over fake flowers like this.’

Indeed, it was silly, especially considering that Ms Hawtrey wasn’t alone. Two other contestants, Mistress Citrine and Queen Vasilka, had been chatting it up in one of the nearby gazebos since before she’d arrived. The proper thing to do would be to join them rather than standing there, inspecting the cheap fake flowers, but Hawtrey had her reasons.

The deception of it all was disappointing. Tragic, even. It would have been so delightful to step outside and take in the scent of roses, just as she had done in her youth. But Hawtrey was not in the presence of roses. The so-called “courtyard” in which she stood wasn’t even outdoors. It was just another brightly lit room with a tall ceiling, and all of its cameras aimed slightly downward.

Truthfully, it pained Hawtrey to know that for the duration of her stay, she could never relax to the sounds of songbirds, or the smell of flowers. The only sound she heard was the distant jabbering of her fellow dominas, and the only smell was… liquor and sweat?

The schoolmistress followed her nose, and was instantly startled by how close the smell’s source was. The burly one, Jynx the Mynx, had snuck up on her. This surprise was likely an accident considering that the ebony dominatrix seemed completely uninterested in her British counterpart.

Hawtrey had remained properly dressed since the moment she arrived at Dungeon Devine, but in sheer contrast, Jynx looked as though she’d been dressing up for a night out, only to give up halfway through and put on sweatpants. At least she hadn’t gone colorblind as well. In that regard, her dark trousers matched up quite well with her crop top, and morning slippers.

The black diva, completely indifferent to her surroundings, trudged on past Hawtrey. In one hand, she held a sizable glass of what appeared to be Margarita mix. And in the other hand…

“Oh, my,” Hawtrey whispered as Jynx’s luggage rolled on by. It was rude to stare, but she couldn’t help herself.

Behind the Mynx, she towed a two-wheeled dolly that glided soundlessly across the floor. She held onto the dolly by a handle at the top, built into its black steel frame. One might have difficulty seeing that the dolly was black, because the vast majority of it had been wrapped up in layer after layer of blue bondage tape. How many layers, Ms Hawtrey couldn’t say, but she wagered that it was a big number, since the poor mummified victim wrapped to Jynx’s dolly seemed utterly immobilized.

Despite being almost entirely concealed, there was much to say about this mummy. The only parts of her that remained uncovered were her nostrils and breasts. By the shape of her wrapped up figure, Hawtrey could deduce that her wrists had been bound palm-to palm behind her back before she’d been cocooned from head to toe, and then wrapped even more to the dolly. Her entire head had been covered in the blue tape but her distinct bodily figure was a dead giveaway. Jynx was towing Icy Fyre.

Icy may have been totally wrapped up in blue but that wasn’t the only colour she wore. Just below her breasts, a wooden serving tray had been strapped around her chest. Ms Hawtrey had dealt with serving trays before, but this one had a fetching little feature. It included a breast clamp; A rectangular frame composed of two long screws, and a wooden bar, which had been clamped down on Icy’s exposed breasts, squishing them down against the platter. At each of the tray’s outer corners, there was a steel chain, and both chains were connected to a black collar strapped around Icy’s neck. The old schoolteacher liked all of what she saw, but that collar was her favourite part. Collars of that variety were so tall that they pressed on the jaw and enforced perfect posture, and this mummified domme was no exception.

Jynx either didn’t notice Hawtrey’s reaction or simply didn’t care. She just walked onward to a nearby hammock, hung between two gazebos. Now it was the other dommes’ turn to gawk. At least, Vasilka did. Citrine made a sour face and excused herself. Ms Hawtrey didn’t have the presence of mind to ask what had gotten the blonde diva so irked. Instead, her attention remained fixated on Jynx the Mynx as she set up the dolly, placed her drink down on her living serving tray, and climbed in the hammock.

With a freshly opened seat, and a lovely blue conversation piece, Hawtrey decided that it was time to join this little tea party. With a stiff upper lip and a dignified stride, she made her way into the gazebo. She had a polite introduction all ready, but no one seemed to want it. Vasilka was already in the middle of her first comment.

Her voice was by no means rugged, but her accent certainly was. Still, she spoke fluently, confidently, and with lots of charm. “I like your approach to human furniture. Very practical.”

“Hell, it ‘ain’t even my thing normally,” Jynx responded loudly. “But apparently, it’s the only way I can get any damn peace and quiet around here!”

Ms Hawtrey took a seat where Mistress Citrine had been. She thought up a response, only to discover that the Mynx wasn’t done talking.

“Take a guess how many times this bitch has come at me?”

Vasilka shrugged, apparently more interested in listening than conversing, but Hawtrey was willing to hazard a guess. “Five.”

Jynx stared at her with a split-second look of surprise before nodding. “Good guess, Professor McGonagall. This bitch has tried and failed to get the best of me FIVE TIMES since we got here! She fought me in the playroom, and got herself spanked, then again in the gym yesterday morning (TWICE). And then she tried to jump me after dinner yesterday, and again first thing this morning!”

“Your joking,” Vasilka exclaimed.

Jynx responded by pulling up the right leg of her sweatpants, revealing a ghastly bruise on her knee. “This look like a joke? Dumb, white trash bitch just won’t stop trying to fight me! I kicked her ass every time, but she just doesn’t learn, so now I say ‘fuck it’! She’s gonna stand aside and let me chill for once.”

Once her mouth had stopped running, Jynx reached over and picked up her drink from the Icy serving tray. As she downed a long sip, Hawtrey decided to keep the conversation going by playing the devil’s advocate.

“Admirable dedication, if nothing else,” she commented. “Perhaps she’s a bit too keen on establishing her dominance in the first week?”

The ebony mistress made a quiet scoff as she fished an ice cube out of her margarita. “Yeah, why don’t you ask her how that’s working out…”

All eyes followed the ice cube pinched between Jynx’s thumb and forefinger as she reached over, and began circling it around Icy Fyre’s bare nipple. The curvy mummy, who obviously hadn’t seen it coming, made a pathetic little squeal and started to squirm. By the sound of her heavy breathing, she must have been putting a lot of effort into her struggles, but it yielded no results. There was a small clatter at the base of the dolly, and she was able to twist her hips by less than a centimeter. That was it.

It was Vasilka who carried on the conversation. “I don’t see the sense in rushing to establish yourself. There’s a hundred and sixty-eight hours in a week, and the showrunners have to cut all of that down to forty-four minutes. We can afford to take our time here.”

Hawtrey stiffened up as she processed Vasilka’s words, and came to the realization that she was spot on. Such a revelation should have lifted a great weight off of the old schoolmistress’ shoulders, but instead, it made her insides sink. There was really no need to rush things, which meant that the fiasco with Mistress Miki was utterly unnecessary!

Hawtrey stiffened herself into perfect posture and made a perky little smile, not for any particular reason. That was just how she liked to hide her discomfort from guests. She spoke again, desperate to move on from her moment of shame. A moment that the others were not even aware of.

“Here here! Some well-natured rapport would do this dungeon well!”

Jynx just shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Aight, well I dunno what ‘rappour’ means, but I’m handling things just fine the way they are now.”

Vasilka raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry? Did you not specifically come here because you were sick of fighting all the time?”

“Matter o' fact, I didn’t,” Jynx snapped, suddenly very defensive. “You know I’m the only bondage wrestler who’s undefeated against VeVe Lane? I could take on every last bitch in this place, anytime! It’s Dumbo over here that I’m sick and tired of.”

As if to point out who she’d meant by that beastly remark, Jynx reached over and gave a hard, swift flick of the finger against Icy’s teat, still wet from the ice cube.

"mmmn!"

Icy must have had a marvelous gag under all that tape, because if Ms Hawtrey had been on the receiving end of that treatment, her scream would have reached every corner of the courtyard.

She had a question for Jynx, but was just too gosh darn reluctant to ask. Luckily for the English lady, Vasilka wasn’t as reserved.

“I do not know who VeVe Lane is.”

Jynx looked genuinely perplexed. “That a joke? Or is bondage wrestling just not popular where you’re from?”

Hawtrey gently raised her hand and murmured. “I don’t know who that is either.”

Jynx stared silently at her European company, and Hawtrey could actually see her opinion of them plummet. Whatever they said, it certainly drew great offense from the musclebound domina, because rather than explain herself, she simply shook her head again and reclined back into the hammock.

“Aight, whatever. I came her for some R&R, n’ that’s what I’m gonna do.”

After a couple seconds, it became clear that that had been the end of Jynx’s part in the conversation. She just laid there, sipping on her drink, and lazily teasing her captive’s clamped breasts.

Vasilka turned to Hawtrey and changed the subject. “I like how dedicated you are to that ‘posh teacher’ character.”

Ms Hawtrey wanted to begin her response with ‘I’ll have you know…’ but that had been a sincere compliment, so she decided to be kind. “It’s actually not an act, not entirely anyways. I grew up around people who dressed and behaved like that.”

Vasilka leaned back with an energetic response that Hawtrey couldn’t help but smile at. “Ohhhh, so that spoon in your mouth is real silver? Are you a real teacher too?”

“I have indeed dabbled in that profession,” Ms Hawtrey said with pride.

Vasilka beamed and let out a brief, excited giggle. “Oh, wow! Pure authenticity! Awe, I wish Citrine had stuck around. You two would have really gotten along. She was just talking so fondly about university and all her old professors.”

“Some time with Citrine would be splendid,” Hawtrey said. “But I was no professor. I actually spent some years as a horse riding instructor for young, aspiring equestrians. Hobbyists, mostly.”

Vasilka’s wooing returned. “Ohhh, that just makes your credentials even better! I bet you have a mean swing with a crop.”

“Care to find out,” Ms Hawtrey asked.

That question had practically come out on its own. Little flirts like that had become second nature to Hawtrey since her debut as a dominatrix. They were fun, and when said in the right manner, there was no good way to respond without making oneself appear less dominant. Regardless, Ms Hawtrey had expected that young Bulgarian to at least try and clap back. That’s what any dominant would do, so it came as a bit of a shock when Vasilka replied, “Maybe I would…”

Hawtrey’s brow shot up and she blinked rapidly at Vasilka. Even Jynx looked up from her resting place when she heard the lady’s words.

Queen Vasilka made a lovely smile and with a quick tilt of her head, motioned for them to leave. She got up, and Ms Hawtrey followed.

They walked eight strides together before Vasilka broke the silence. “Let me be frank: I like you, Ms Hawtrey. You have grace, like me. And graceful dommes need not throw their fists around like Jynx and Icy. We can dominate without making primal brutes out of ourselves!”

A woman after Hawtrey’s own heart. Lord knows that her first encounter with Mistress Miki could have done with a lot more grace.

Before they had reached the exit to the dormitories, Vasilka spun on her heel and faced her British companion. “I propose that we make a little deal. I will let you use your crop on me. I will be your willing submissive, and in exchange, I expect you to return the favour and submit to me. You scratch my back and I scratch yours, yes?”

She held out her hand, not even waiting one second for Hawtrey’s response. “Do we have a deal?”

Ms Hawtrey looked at the outstretched and, then at Vasilka’s wide grin, and back to the hand.

“Deal!” She grasped Vasilka’s hand and shook with a firm grip.

“Awesome,” Vasilka cried. “Now-- Ahh!”

The beautiful Bulgarian stumbled forward from Hawtrey’s sudden yank, falling into the teacher’s embrace as she pulled her lips close to her new sub’s ear.

“Now, here’s what your mistress wants you to wear…”

Poor Icy Her resilience and tenacity ist remarkable. But not very successful she is.

Well, not only did that backfire on Icy, it backfired twice more after that. I'll give it to her for being determined though if she wants to be successful, she'll need to change her tactics. Got to admit I have a love/hate for Jynx's character. I really like how we go from Jynx and Icy fighting to a more civil exchange with Hawtrey & Vasilka. As always, great addition!!!

The dialogue exchange between Jynx, Vasilka and Ms.Hawtrey (aka Professor McGonagall ) is simply BRILLIANT!
Sharp, witty, phenomenal...all of it!

The descriptive writing and fantastic dialogue makes me and the other readers feel like we're actually there, witnessing this with our own eyes.

Takes quite a lot of talent to pull that off, mate.
A credit to your skill.



I would pay handsomely to see these busty bondage queens go at each other like this.
Second best thing to that is following your tale, here

Thanks for another fantastic installment [mention]TomYi[/mention]

Thank you [mention]Caesar73[/mention] (always nice to see a new name here), [mention]Red86[/mention], and [mention]bondagefreak[/mention]!

I don't say thanks enough (because my big loud banner would be all over the place ) but that feedback is always the highlight of my day!

TomYi wrote: 4 years ago I don't say thanks enough (because my big loud banner would be all over the place ) but that feedback is always the highlight of my day!

You steadfastness in producing this amazing content is thanks enough, buddy

In any case, the praise you're receiving is MORE than well deserved.
Hopefully more of our readers will drop a note to profess their support!

This is truly phenomenal stuff!

As always top notch writing and wonderful story telling. The dialogue is faultless and whilst the action has come down a notch, the situations are superbly told and engaging as ever.

Great work.

It wasn’t the worst costume Queen Vasilka had ever worn. That was the good news. The bad news was that the schoolgirl costume Hawtrey had picked out was downright ridiculous! Vasilka was never a fan of wearing heels over socks on account of the two functioning eyes in her skull, but the schoolmistress had insisted. So, here she was, standing in black pumps with ankle straps worn over white socks practically long enough to be stockings.

In spite of the socks’ excessive length, there was still seven centimetres of exposed skin between the socks and Vasilka’s red plaid miniskirt. There was even more space between the skirt and Vasilka’s ridiculous white crop top. The damn thing was barely low enough to cover her breasts, and it only did so thanks to a puny knot that held it all together around her chest. Sadly, that was not the only bow tied on the Bulgarian schoolgirl. At Ms Hawtrey’s behest, Vasilka had tied her dark hair into pigtails with a pair of red ribbons to match her skirt.

This wasn’t just a costume that a porn star would wear. It was a costume that would have gotten a porn star laughed out of the studio apartment, and Vasilka was quick to point that out.
As a former posh teacher, she would expect Ms Hawtrey to at least respect an authentic look, but all she had to say was: “At least it covers up your shoulders.”

That snippy remark had made Queen Vasilka want to scream, but she knew better than that. She would take whatever Hawtrey had to dish out, and return the treatment in full. Such a deal was necessary after all. Vasilka needed a willing sub, and she was running out of options.

Queen Vasilka had every skill required to excel at this competition, except fighting prowess. She hadn’t been prepared for such a dog-eat-dog battle royale, and she couldn’t float around in the background forever!

To do what she’d envisioned, she needed cooperation from her partner. Vasilka had hoped to team up with Mistress Citrine, but for some reason that girl had run off right after Jynx showed up. Jynx the Mynx sure as hell wasn’t about to negotiate anything, and so Queen Vasilka was stuck with Plan B.

Still, the old English woman was better than nothing, and Vasilka had wanted a piece of everyone anyways. ‘Take what you can get.’ A philosophy that had served Queen Vasilka well over the years.

Ms Hawtrey had told her to come to her private quarters at precisely 1:35 PM. The time was approaching fast, and Vasilka had done everything else Hawtrey wanted. The schoolgirl inched her door open and peaked outside. The coast was clear. Time to go!

Vasilka trotted down the hallway fast enough to make her pigtails bounce. Why did that teacher have to be halfway across the dormitories?! She made it most of the way to Hawtrey’s room with just the right amount of witnesses: zero. But then, as she passed by Miki’s room, she heard the doorknob turn.

‘No, no, no,’ Vasilka screamed inside her head. It was bad enough to be caught on camera in this outfit, but to be seen by her other contestants? She’d never live that down! Without stopping to look in the direction of the noise, Vasilka turbocharged her stride and practically sprinted through Hawtrey’s door, which thankfully wasn’t locked. If anyone did see her, then they would have only caught a glance of a plaid skirt disappearing behind Hawtrey’s slamming door.

Within the privacy of Hawtrey’s room, Vasilka leaned her weight against the door, as though some pursuer might try to barge in behind her. She had just finished bolting it shut when a voice jolted Vasilka out of her miniature panic attack.

“You didn’t knock.”

Vasilka spun around to the sight of Ms Hawtrey, standing tall and imposing in the centre of the room with a nice leather riding crop held in both hands. Her outfit was largely the same – a frilly white blouse with a black pencil skirt, pantyhose, and black pumps –but her makeup had been redone to make her eyes and lips darker. It was a good balance between teacher and dominatrix.

“You did not ask permission to enter, nor did you make a proper greeting. Are you trying to test me, young lady?”

Vasilka stood there for a moment, unsure if the roleplay had begun, or if Ms Hawtrey was actually mad.

“S-sorry, Ms Hawtrey.”

“Sorry isn’t enough, Ms Vasilka,” Hawtrey said. She raised her crop like some threatening swashbuckler. “Detention is a place of discipline, and you have brought nothing but disrespect with you. You must – and shall – be punished!”

That was enough for Vasilka to figure out that the roleplay had begun. She put her hands behind her back and made a cute little sulk. “Wha--”

“Be quiet,” Hawtrey snapped. “While in detention, you will only respond with ‘Yes, Ms Hawtrey.’ Any other response will require permission from your instructor. Is that understood?”

Vasilka had to fight to keep her eyes from rolling. It was one thing to require submission from your partner, but Hawtrey was demanding roleplay! Was Ms Hawtrey taking full advantage of their deal, or was this really how she did her job? If the latter was true, then she could never hope to last against nine other dominants. This was a whole new level of cooperation, and it dawned on Vasilka that this old British schoolmistress needed her help more than Vasilka needed hers.

She could break character and argue that roleplay wasn’t part of the deal. A difficult brat act might improve her standing with the audience. But she still had to submit in order to ensnare Hawtrey, and any disrespect from her was guaranteed to make this ordeal even worse.

Vasilka drew a long quiet breath. “Yes, Ms Hawtrey.”

“Good girl,” Hawtrey grinned.

‘Enjoy it while you can,’ Vasilka thought. ‘I get the last laugh on this one!’

Hawtrey turned to her right, and it was only then that Vasilka noticed the room’s furnishings. There was a desk nearby, the kind of desk you would find in a public high school classroom. There was a chair accompanying it, and a large green chalkboard on wheels? Had Hawtrey really found all that in the playroom, or did she have those brought in with the rest of her stuff?

Vasilka’s pondering was cut short by sounds of scraping steel echoing from the desk. Hawtrey’s hand had reached inside, and emerged with a pair of red leather ankle cuffs. She placed the cuffs down on the desk and said, “Come here, and put these on.”

“Yes, Ms Hawtrey.”

Vasilka did as told. She knelt down and strapped a cuff onto her right ankle. The inside was lined with black faux fur, which made for a comfy anklet.

“Tighter,” Hawtrey commanded.

Vasilka allowed her eyes to roll this time, knowing full well that they were out of that hag’s sight.

“Yes, Ms Hawtrey.” She managed to get them both on extra tight.

No sooner had Vasilka stood up when her teacher pointed to the desk with her crop. This time, there was nothing there but a lonely pink love egg, and that generated mixed feelings from Vasilka.

“Take that egg, and insert it in yourself.”

Vasilka’s groan was silent enough to remain unheard. As she reached for the egg, Hawtrey’s crop shot up beneath her chin. It wasn’t a painful swat, but it did lift Vasilka’s head up as Hawrey leaned in and asked, “What do you say?”

“Y-yes, Ms Hawtrey.”

“Good girl.” She lowered her riding crop and stepped away as Vasilka took hold of the egg and slid it under her skirt. At least the schoolmistress had the consideration not to stare while Queen Vasilka did what she had to do.

‘Is she going to make me do everything,’ Vasilka asked herself.

Evidently, the answer was no. Queen Vasilka had been focused enough on the egg that she never saw Ms Hawtrey retrieve a red and black collar. She barely even had enough time to admire how well it matched her ankle cuffs before the furry leather strap encircled her throat.

Once the collar had been buckled tight around Vasilka’s neck, Hawtrey’s hand followed suit. The reluctant schoolgirl gasped as her teacher pulled herself in tight against her back, and whispered into her ear.

“Put your hands behind your back, palms together.”

“Yes, M-Ms Hawtrey.”

The hand released its grip on Vasilka and she did as she was told. She stood there for a moment with her fingers intertwined, and listened to the sounds of jingling buckles and clapping leather. Then, she felt the armbinder slide over her hands.

Vasilka let out another silent grunt. She never cared much for armbinders. Sure, they looked good when they actually fit, but in Vasilka’s experience, such instances were rare. ‘One-size-fits-all’ didn’t apply very well to leather monogloves, and unless it was accurately sized, it was apt to have ugly wrinkles all over.

At least Vasilka would never be able to see those wrinkles. All she got to see was the black straps going over her shoulders and crisscrossing over her chest. They could have been tighter, but Hawtrey wasn’t done yet. Pressure formed on Queen Vasilka’s wrists, and she felt the armbinder being laced up. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad fit after all. It certainly applied firm, even pressure from top to bottom, and left Vasilka’s arms pressed tightly together from elbow to wrist. Once that was finished, Hawtrey found any and all slack left over in the straps, and tightened them accordingly.

Vasilka wasn’t getting out of this one any time soon. At least her superb flexibility was coming in quite handy, and her breasts had never looked so perky!

“You’re going to be writing notes for me, Ms Vasilka.”

Visilka raised an eyebrow and wiggled her bound arms to demonstrate just how useless they’d become. “How, exactly--Ahh!”

Ms Hawtrey whipped the crop hard against Vasila’s buttocks and yelled, “I explicitly stated that you are not to speak without permission while serving detention!”

“S-sorry, Ms Haw--trmmph!” Vasilka’s words were cut short by Hawtrey’s hand clasping down over her lips.

“And there you go again! Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk. How fortunate that we have the perfect solution for such disruptive behaviour…”

Some rustling sounded behind Vasilka. Moments later, her domme reached around and dangled a ball gag in front of her wide eyes. It was Vasilka’s least favourite kind of ball gag. The red ball was just a fabricated piece of silicone with two silicone extentions that were riveted to black leather straps. The ball itself was a fairly big – probably designed for a man’s mouth – and had a hole drilled through its centre. Vasilka assumed that that hole was meant for breathing, but at first glance, it looked as though the hole only went halfway through.

She never got a chance to look twice. Before she knew it, the silicone ball was being forced between her teeth, and the strap was constricting around her head.

Ms Hawtrey walked in front of her gagged student, and gripped Vasilka’s jaw in one hand. She tilted it around like a judge examining some show animal, and a proud smile formed on her face.

“I like you better already.”

Vasilka didn’t answer for obvious reasons. At least she didn’t have to repeat the same obedient line anymore. However, she did let out a quizzical “mmph” when Hawtrey showed her a white stick of chalk. For once, the teacher said nothing. She just shot Vasilka a wink before shoving the stick into Vasilka’s ball gag. So that’s what the hole had been meant for!

Hawtrey hooked a finger on the ring of Vasilka’s collar and tugged. “Come, girl. You will be writing your notes on the board.”

The domineering Brit led her sub to the chalkboard and stood her in front of it. She let go of Vasilka’s collar and commanded her to spread her legs. Vasilka murmled another question, and Ms Hawtrey answered with force.

“I said, spread your bloody legs, young lady. You’ve been a naughty student, and I must ensure that you don’t try to run off and play hooky!”

After forcing Vasilka’s legs apart, Hawtrey gathered up a pair of padlocks and a spreader bar. Vasilka wasn’t pleased by the sight of that, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She just stood there helplessly as Ms Hawtrey locked her legs wide open.

“Now, you are to write your notes a dozen times on the board,” Hawtrey said. “The sentence you shall write is as follows: ‘I will respect my teacher.’ Do not stop for anything until you have finished. Now, begin!”

Vasilka was born ambidextrous. She was just as adept with her left hand as she was with her right. Sadly, that little perk didn’t help her writing with a chalk-stick-ball-gag, and her penmanship was a bit lacking. The spreader bar wasn’t doing her any favours either. It was a good thing that Hawtrey hadn’t demanded a longer sentence, or poor Vasilka would be there all day.

I will respect my teacher

As Vasilka pecked at the board to form a period, a strong buzz went off inside her. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and the surprise left her flinching in shock. “Mmph!”

Smack! Hawtrey’s crop landed another blow on Vasilka’s butt, and the teacher yelled, “I said, don’t stop for anything! Pay attention, girl!”

With her breath growing heavier, Vasilka continued her work. I will respect my teacher.

BZZZ BZZZ

“Mmnmph!” Vasilka was careful to keep going. It had come in two energetic bursts this time, and already the bound and gagged student had spotted a pattern. Hawtrey was remotely controlling the love egg to buzz once for every line Vasilka had written down! That probably would have seemed fun and thrilling to the mind of a sub, but Queen Vasilka was thinking like a domme.

At the moment, that egg was just a distracting nuisance, but seven or so sentences in, it could start to reeeally get in the way. And the old woman was almost guaranteed to use that as an excuse to swing her crop around. That’s certainly what Vasilka would do in her shoes.

I will respect my teacher.
I will respect my teacher.
I will respect my teacher.
I will respect my teacher.
I will respect my teacher.

BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ BZZZ

“mmnmmn,” Vasilka shuddered into her gag. That shudder was the first of many, and it wasn’t long after that that her penmanship started to go downhill as a result. Such a pity. She was just starting to get the hang of writing with her mouth, but now, the words she wrote were becoming more and more shaky.

Her earlier prediction was almost bang on. Hawtrey started using that stinking crop again as Vasilka began her eighth line. And the flogging only got more frequent from there on out.

“Stop moaning!

Keep going!

Does that look like an ‘e’ to you?!”

As Vasilka used up more and more of the board, she was forced to bend over more. Hawtrey must have been loving that, but it wasn’t so much fun for the bound Bulgarian on the receiving end of the crop.

Vasilka’s discomfort went beyond the spanking. As she neared the end of her “detention” her shoulders, back, and jaw all started to ache. And dear lord, the egg! It buzzed more and more with every sentence, so the pauses between buzzes grew smaller and smaller. By the end, Vasilka was finishing sentences just as the egg stopped its vibrations from the previous one.

The frustration made Vasilka want to stomp her feet, but the spreader bar made that impossible. There was barely even enough room in the armbinder to clench her fists. All she could do was stand there and feel herself draw closer and closer to an orgasm.

‘Focus, Vasilka. You’re so close to finishing!’

I

BZZZ BZZZ

I will

BZZZ BZZZ

I will respect

BZZZ BZZZ

I will respect my

BZZZ BZZZ

“GRMMMMPH!”

Vasilka hung her head and shivered. If she had had just a few more seconds, she could have recovered and finished the last word. She did not have that time though. Ms Hawtrey did not give her any more time. With a rough handling, she grabbed her sub by the collar and pulled her up so they stood face-to-face.

“Filthy little girl! Right here in the classroom! You’re in deep trouble now!”

The old woman’s voice acting was good, but Vasilka could see a smile breaking through that fierce façade. Hawtrey pulled her over to the desk, which took a while thanks to Vasilka’s spreader bar. She wondered why Hawtrey didn’t just remove that stupid bar, but got her answer once they finally reached the desk.

Ms Hawtrey took a length of rope, hitched it onto Vasilka’s collar, and pulled. Vasilka was forced to bend herself over the desk, which stood at nearly the same height as her waist. Her head hung over the opposite side of the desk, and she saw Hawtrey run the rope beneath the desk before tying it off to the spreader bar. The bar spread farther than the legs of the desk, and with just one rope, Hawtrey had trapped her sub in that exposed position.

WHACK

“Mmph!” Vasilka whimpered and flinched as a wooden cane came crashing down on the desk right next to her, and damn near splitting her ears in the process. Her eyes followed it back up to Ms Hawtrey, who looked down on her with a wicked grin.

“Slutty delinquents like you deserve no mercy, and you will get none from your mistress. Brace yourself, girl.”

Vasilka turned her gaze to floor so as to hide her apathetic expression. An encore like this was good for the cameras, but if Hawtrey was smart, she would pull her punches. If she didn’t, then Vasilka would make sure to return the favour soon after.

A glob fell to the floor, and Vasilka realised that she was drooling. That wasn’t much of a surprise. She had worn that ball gag for a little while now, and had just had a pretty good orgasm. In spite of everything, Vasilka felt a little satisfied; and she smiled thinking of the satisfaction yet to come. Oh, yes. She would make something beautiful out of that posh dominatrix!

All she had to do now was tough it out…

“So… is this the Bulgarian approach to domination?”

That had come out more awkwardly than Ms Hawtrey had intended, but frankly, there was no way it wouldn’t have been awkward. It was obvious to anyone watching that the posh sub was trying to engage in small talk with her domme, and in the middle of a session, no less.

Hawtrey honestly felt obliged to speak up, lest the dark-haired rigger bore her to death. Vasilka had been carefully – and tediously – roping her up for what seemed like ages, and she largely kept to herself throughout that process. It was no wonder that girl had resorted to making a deal with Ms Hawtrey. Never in a million years would she be able to work like that with an unwilling partner.

After Hawtrey had finished dominating Vasilka, the pretty little sub swiftly switched roles, and commanded her former domme to visit her room in two hours. Said room was an awful mess. Vasilka had removed a silky white sheet from her bed, and hung it from the ceiling. This confused Ms Hawtrey at first, but then she saw the various LED lights her host had rigged up and realized that the room had been converted into a makeshift studio. And at the centre of this studio, there hung a steel ring from the ceiling.

The schoolmistress’ former student had been noticeably eager to get out of her schoolgirl costume, so it came as no surprise when Hawtrey arrived and found Vasilka in a new outfit. What caught her off guard was how ravishing the new look was. Queen Vasilka now sported a short keyhole halter dress along with long gloves and high heeled boots that reached her thighs. And every single article of clothing was tailored out of shiny, black, form-fitting latex. Quite a thing to behold.

Queen Vasilka had ordered Ms Hawtrey to disrobe entirely, which certainly didn’t tickle the posh woman’s fancy, but with some stern coaxing, Vasilka had gotten the nude model that she so desired. She then began her rigging by binding Hawtrey’s arms in a boxtie. That should have been fairly standard stuff, but Queen Vasilka just kept on adding more and more rope. The boxtie turned into an ornate chest harness, which then turned into an ornate body harness, which then turned into and ornate hip harness. It was almost like a chemise of hemp rope, enveloping her from the thighs to her shoulders. Sadly, of all the areas covered up by the vast lengths of rope, Hawtrey’s bosom and womanhood were both left exposed for the cameras.

With a complacent partner under her heel, Vasilka proved to be quite the rope expert. The rope was always wrapped evenly with equal pressure, no twists, and just the right level of strictness. Queen Vasilka’s focus had paid off splendidly, and she had been terribly focused. Honestly, Ms Hawtrey only ever saw Vasilka blink twice as she tied her up, and the young lady never distracted herself with taunts or teases. She only ever stopped here and there to ask if anything felt too tight, so it came as quite a surprise to Hawtrey when her domme actually responded to her question.

“You know that I was only born in Plovdiv, right? Sure, Bulgarian is my first language, but I have been traveling all my life.”

Vasilka ran two fingers beneath some rope bound below Hawtrey’s breasts. Apparently satisfied, she moved on to examine her other wrappings. She must have been confident in her work, because she actually kept on chatting.

“Name a Schengen country, and I have probably stayed there for a time. France and Italy are my two favourites though. I tell you, free travel across all those borders is so wonderful!”

“Oh, hardy har,” Hawtrey sneered.

She was ready to hit back at that comment some more, but Vasilka interjected. “Give me your feet.”

“Wh-What?!” Hawtrey squawked. Her heart skipped a beat, and she just about swallowed her tongue. All over again, she could taste it. She could taste the filthy sole and those ghastly appendages as she struggled helplessly in the clutches of Mi--

“Hey, relax,” Vasilka said with a concerned gaze. “I’m just going to tie a basic rope cuff.”

“R-right,” Hawtrey said, suddenly feeling quite daft.

How embarrassing! Where had such an emotional reaction like that come from?! That disastrous encounter with Mistress Miki was over. The best thing Ms Hawtrey could do now was move on and forget that it ever happened… or maybe seek vengeance, but not until later. One way or another, it was silly to let such a thing distract her. Miki wasn’t in charge here, Vasilka was.

And speaking of which, that little rope artist had shifted gears! She had tied off a separate rope cuff on each of Hawtrey’s ankles, and was now adding even more rope to her torso. It wasn’t like before, though. Now she was connecting Ms Hawtrey to the steel ring, which dangled above her head. Her concentrated face now bore an excited smile as she attached rope after rope, lashing Hawtrey by the hips, chest harness, and shoulders.

The schoolmistress had tried to look apathetic and unimpressed from start to finish. It was a good way to keep up her dominant persona in a situation like this. But as her fate became more and more clear, Ms Hawtrey found it impossible not to voice her concerns.

“Are you sure that’ll hold me?”

Vasilka made a devilish grin as she pulled the last knot tight. She stood on her toes behind Hawtrey, and whispered in her ear. “Why don’t we find out…”

“Wait, don’t you think-- Ah!”

Hawtrey let out a terse scream as Vasilka grabbed the ropes on her ankles and yanked them out from under her. Though her legs no longer supported her, the roped up model didn’t fall one centimeter. Her hips immediately took on her weight, which was distributed nicely across her rope harness. She did fall forward by several centmetres before all the slack was pulled from her boxtie, and her chest began to bear some weight as well.

Hawtrey spun her head around to see Vasilka lashing her ankles separately to the ring. “A warning would have been greatly appreciated!”

“Oh, shush,” was all Vasilka had to say.

She left little enough rope that Hawtrey’s feet were left bent up behind her. Though her body remained mostly vertical, she now hung in a crescent shape above the floor.

“All done,” Vasilka chirped gleefully. “How does it feel?”

Hawtrey could think of a dozen unflattering descriptions, but they would all make her look weak and uncomfortable, so she simply said, “It feels like I’m suspended.”

“Good,” Vasilka said. “That’s what I was going for!”

She walked away momentarily, and came back holding some cloth. Specifically, a silk scarf and what appeared to be some wadded up… oh gosh, was that a pair of knickers?!

Hawtrey winced and said, “I do hope those are clean, dearie.”

Vasilka made a playful expression, and spoke with a gentle but teasing tone. “Hope all you want, my helpless little subbie. Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. One way or another, they’re going in your mouth.”

Something had changed in her, and Ms Hawtrey knew what it was. After all that talk of civility, the submissive diplomacy, and the meticulous ropework, Vasilka finally had a helpless captive under her control. She was truly in charge now, and thrilled to be there. A shiver of fear came over Ms Hawtrey, which she was able to hide as she stared into her captor’s devious eyes.

The Bulgarian beauty said no more, but those eyes sent a clear message: ‘You wanna do this the easy way, or the hard way?'

This was it. She was all strung up and alone with a dominatrix. She could try to resist, but that wouldn’t get her anywhere, would it? No, Queen Vasilka had the reins now.

Slow and steadily, Ms Hawtrey’s mouth opened up.

“Good girl,” Vasilka cooed.

Ms Hawtrey was relieved by the taste of those undergarments. They were clean after all. Once they were nestled in place, Vasilka wasted no time trapping them there. She pulled her silk scarf between Hawtrey’s teeth, and ran it around her head. It was long enough that the European Queen was able to wrap it around a second time before tying it off. This made for a cleave gag thick enough to keep its wearer’s teeth well apart.

The schoolmistress didn’t want to give her domme the satisfaction of hearing her muffled voice, and so she kept silent. Still, Ms Hawtrey didn’t need to test her gag to know that it would get the job done.

Without another word, Vasilka reached up and started running her fingers through her sub’s hair. She pulled it over the cleave gag and started combing it here and there with her fingers. Such behavior wasn’t just impolite, but creepy, and Hawtrey would have been quick to voice her objection were it not for her gag.

“There. All fixed up,” Vasilka beamed. “You are going to make a beautiful model…”

At some point in the process of being bound and gagged, Ms Hawtrey had forgotten about the ramshackle photo studio her domme had rigged up. The posh domina wasn’t keen on having her picture taken in such a compromising position, but it certainly wasn’t the worst thing that her captor could be doing right now.

Queen Vasilka fixated her eyes on Hawtrey as she went around the room, tweaking and readjusting the portable lights she had positioned all around. Once she was satisfied with the lighting, she moved over to the dresser and picked up a camera. Ms Hawtrey didn’t know much about photography, but it looked like an expensive piece of work. Vasilka certainly acted like it too. She handled that device as though it were a newborn prince.

What happened next was as casual and benign as Ms Hawtrey had hoped. Vasilka spent the next few minutes snapping photos of her suspended model. Her direction was minimal, not that Hawtrey could reposition herself anyway. She would turn Hawtrey around herself for a different angle, and only occasionally say something like “look at the camera.”

At one point, Vasilka put her camera down and began applying a heavy layer of bright red lipstick in front of the mirror. Hawtrey wondered if that signaled the end of their little photoshoot, and she watched intently as Queen Vasilka strutted back over to her. The young dominatrix took Hawtrey’s head in her hands, leaned in, and planted a deep kiss on her left cheek.

She pulled away and smiled at the red lip print she had undoubtedly left behind. Then, she returned to her camera and snapped some more photographs. That went on for a little bit before Vasilka gently packed her camera away, and waltzed over to a nearby desk. It had been covered up by a lumpy pile of clothes, including that schoolgirl costume Hawtrey had made her wear earlier.

“I’m all done taking photos, but I’m not done with you…”

She placed a hand down on the pile of clothes, and grabbed a fistful. There was no giddy look in her eye anymore, nor any energy in her tone. Now, she just seemed cold, and that gave Hawtrey chills.

“After what you put me through, did you really think I was going to let you off with nothing but some shibari and a few poses? No…”

Vasilka yanked hard on the clothes, ripping them off the desk like a magician pulling out a tablecloth. And what was left behind made Ms Hawtrey gasp through her gag. The desk was set with a small collection of torture devices, with varying shapes and sizes to dish out different levels of punishment. Crops, paddles, floggers, canes, and nipple clamps were all present, and there was even a Wartenburg wheel! It didn’t appear to be electrified like Mistress Miki’s, but that didn’t stop Hawtrey’s heart from jumping into her throat.

“It’s time you were taught a lesson of your own!”

Ms Hawtrey could do nothing but watch helplessly as Queen Vasilka grabbed hold of a paddle, and approached her. With a gloved hand, the dominatrix plucked the glasses off of her sub’s face and said: “A lesson in pain!”

Much like Ms Hawtrey’s character, those glasses weren’t all fake. The fair lady’s vision was still passable, but she had some trouble seeing fine details up close. With or without her glasses, however, Hawtrey could still see over her captor’s shoulder. She could see the door handle start to rotate…

“Mn! Nmmnm mmph!”

“Awe,” Vasilka taunted. “are you having second thoughts about this deal?”

“NMMMMPH!”

“Well, you should have thought of that before y--AHH!”

Queen Vasilka never even got a glimpse of the intruder, but Hawtrey saw the whole thing. Seeing was just about all she could do as their uninvited guest silently crept up on Vasilka, threw a black bag over her head, and grappled her down to the floor, all in a matter of seconds.

This attacker was short and petite, but clearly a force to be reckoned with. She wore a dark leather catsuit that covered everything but her hands, feet, and head. Not that those weren’t all covered up by other things. She hid her face behind a kinky leather hood with no mouth, along with black gloves and black toe socks.

In every kidnapping scene on the television, the actors would behave as though a bag over the head makes for a decent gag. It really doesn’t. Vasilka’s loud protests could be heard loud and clear, although they mostly amounted to “who are you,” or “let me go.” At least she seemed to have no problem breathing.

The bag may not have muted her voice, but that probably wasn’t the point. It was more likely there to keep the assailant from being identified while she went about her business. But if this mysterious interloper wished to remain anonymous, why hadn’t she bothered to blind Ms Hawtrey? A unsettling thought to say the least.

The masked assailant was armed with rope, and she moved fast with it. Once she had Vasilka’s hands pinned behind her back, she was able to bind a lark’s head hitch around them faster than most dommes could slap on handcuffs. She wrapped the rope around her victim’s wrists four times before cinching them tight together. This kidnapper may have moved many times faster than Queen Vasilka, but her ropework wasn’t nearly as refined. The ropes that bound Vasilka’s wrists didn’t look comfortable in the slightest, and her ankles soon got the same treatment.

Vasilka’s little stunt with the pile of clothes had left a dreadful mess on the floor, and this stranger utilized that. She reached over and picked up two discarded socks. She balled them up together before grabbing Vasilka’s bagged head and lifting it off the floor.

“Let me go right now or I-- What the hell are yo-- GRMMPH!”

The socks were shoved into Queen Vasilka’s mouth. The bag was never lifted, but it was large and stretchy enough to follow the socks inside while staying draped over her head. With the latex-clad damsel silenced, her captor tied the socks in place with more rope. She wrapped it around Vasilka’s head multiple times like a cleave gag, pulling it tight with each circuit. Not only were the socks securely tied in Vasilka’s mouth, but that bag wasn’t going anywhere either.

As the room’s newest damsel grunted in her gag and thrashed around, the intruder stood up and looked to the ceiling. Ms Hawtrey followed her gaze, and saw that there was more than one anchor point in the room.

“HLLLP MMMN,” Hawrtey bellowed. “FHHMBDM HLLLLPH!”

But no one heard her. No one came to their rescue. The suspended Brit struggled frantically, and quickly found out just how well Queen Vasilka had tied her up. There was no slack in the ropes whatsoever. Ms Hawtrey could do nothing but watch as the masked ruffian bolted the door shut, retrieved more rope, and dragged Vasilka below the ceiling’s other hook.

She took the bight of the rope and ran it between Vasilka’s arms, then between her legs. From there, she tied another lark’s head, connecting the queen’s wrists and ankles. This simple hitch had no knot, and tightened as the intruder pulled on its loose ends. With the help of a stepping stool, she then ran those loose ends through the anchor point above Queen Vasilka, and pulled.

As the rope’s length was pulled short, the hitch tightened, and Vasilka was pulled into a compact hogtie. It got so tight that the bagged beauty had her heels in the palms of her hands. But the sadistic captor didn’t stop there. She pulled until Queen Vasilka’s limbs were raised above her in a strict teardrop hogtie, and then she pulled some more. By the time that fiend had tied off the rope, only a fraction of Vasilka’s belly remained on the floor.

Ms Hawtrey cringed at the sight of that position. Such beastly treatment would have left her in excruciating pain, and yet, Vasilka was only making irritated grunts as she squirmed about on the floor.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s the most flexible of us all. She’ll be just fine so long as she doesn’t strain herself.”

Hawtrey snapped her eyes to the masked woman. She had been silent throughout the entire attack, and the strung-up schoolmistress hadn’t expected her to break her silence now; but this stranger was full of surprises. Her voice was one that Hawtrey didn’t recognize at all. It was dark and mature, with an American accent that might have been from Colorado, or maybe California.

The black-clad kidnapper turned to face Ms Hawtrey “You, on the other hand…”

The schoolmistress hung almost head and shoulders above her new captor, and yet the masked woman still felt imposing. In fact, Ms Hawtrey had never felt so threatened. This mysterious domina practically radiated intimidation. She stood centimetres from Hawtrey’s face and whispered, “You’re in big trouble.”

What a turn of Events! Who might the mysterious intruder be? :)

So many great story lines at once. I never know what to expect when coming to this story! But yet I’m never regretting coming by! Great work!

SMACK

The hooded woman’s palm connected with Ms Hawtrey’s cheek. The same cheek Vasilka had kissed only minutes ago. The force from that slap was enough to spin Hawtrey all the way around. The teacher groaned through her cleave gag as she gradually turned all three hundred and sixty degrees; and when the intruder reentered her vision, she was freshly armed with a short flogger.

“MMPH,” Hawtrey cried as the intruder grabbed hold of her dark hair and pulled.

The strung up gentlelady’s hair became a handle, holding her still while her assailant went to town with that flogger. Over and over, its abundant leather tails slapped at her breasts and belly. The flogger’s short length meant that it couldn’t generate too much force, but it did succeed in showing Ms Hawtrey that her bosom was a tender target. Hawtrey suspected that that was the entire point of this early treatment. Being all tied up in a chest harness had left her breasts quite sensitive, and that worrisome, considering the vast arsenal that Vasilka had left for this new tormentor.

Without warning, the arm that held her hair made a strong swing, and let go. Ms Hawtrey was sent spinning around at a dizzying speed. Everything became a blur, and just when she thought that she was going to be sick, a gloved hand reached out and halted her.

She was face to face with the assailant again, who was shaking a baggie full of small objects. Ms Hawtrey, farsighted and nauseous as she was, didn’t recognize what was in the bag until her torture opened it up and got to work.

“Mn!” Hawtrey let out a high-pitched whimper as she felt a small but nasty sting on her breast.

Clothespins! And so many too! Her nipples were the first things to suffer their grip, but not the last. One by one, every clothespin in that bag found some place on her breasts to clamp down on. They must have been brand new, because they all had a fierce bite.

SMACK

Another slap across the face, but this time, the intruder grabbed Ms Hawtrey’s legs and stopped her halfway through the spin. Hawtrey didn’t like to have her captor out of her sight – not one bit – and she twisted her neck to try and get a better view. She never got that view, but her nerves gave her all the information she needed.

“MMMHHMHMPH!”

Ms Hawtrey wailed into her gag in a perfect hybrid of screams and laughter. Her captor’s fingertips were assaulting her bound feet. That was Hawtrey’s most ticklish area, and tickling was a treatment that she could jolly well do without. The suspended damsel thrashed around in sheer desperation. Anything to get away from those devilish hands! Despite Ms Hawtrey’s frantic energy, not a single clothespin abraded its grip on her bosom, nor did any knots loosen either. Vasilka’s ropes had her strung up in a helpless little package, and the tickling would go on for as long as that leathergirl wanted.

When the hooded woman did finally decide to let off, she gave her victim another spin. A fast one this time. Ms Hawtrey hated the spins; not just because of the dizziness, but also because she knew that when she stopped, her torturer would have a new weapon. She was correct, of course. The seasoned dominatrix may have been dazed and farsighted, but she knew a lit candle when she saw one.

Hawtrey’s hair was once again grasped and she felt the heat of the flame as her captor brought it in. She gulped hard, and realised that her breathing had gotten quite shaky. The candle was close enough that she couldn’t see how molten the wax had gotten. She barely even saw the drops fall, but she certainly felt them.

“NMMMNMN!”

A searing heat splashed on her breast and dripped down her bosom. Then again, and again. It was the worst when a drop landed near one of the many clothespins and settled on top of it, allowing that scorching heat to stay for even longer before finally dissipating.

Ms Hawtrey was familiar with candlewax. She knew that it’s heat wouldn’t last very long nor cause any real harm; but with her breasts already so sensitive from their rope harness and clothespins, she felt as though she might be scalded!

Poor Ms Hawtrey was sweating bullets at this point. She was spun around yet again, and this time she couldn’t help but plead for mercy. She didn’t know what tool that witch was retrieving as she spun in the air, but she shuddered at the thought. A gloved hand reached out and grabbed her hair, and it quickly became apparent that there would be no mercy at all.

WHACK

“MMMPH!!!”

A paddle slapped her right across those poor, tortured boobs. It felt as though the impact had actually shed some of her skin, but some clattering sounds helped Hawtrey to realise that it was just the old hardened wax peeling off of her. In fact, after a few more slaps it became apparent that that was precisely what the hooded woman intended. She was trying to knock every drop of wax, and every clothespin off of her victim! Ms Hawtrey had prayed to be free of those wretched clamps, but this was the absolute worst way of going about it! Between the paddle’s impact and the burning sensation that each abraded clamp left behind, her breasts were positively ablaze!

Once the last clothespin had hit the floor, Hawtrey felt the pressure let off her hair. A gloved hand gently stroked her cheek.

“I brought something real special, just for you…”

Hawtrey had no response. She just hung there, trembling and trying to slow her breath. She watched her hooded captor walk away, and unzip a little black handbag that she had brought with her. Therein was a mess of red straps that Hawtrey couldn’t rightly identify. Was it a gag? But there wasn’t any ball or bit attached. Maybe some kind of harness?

With the straps in hand, the intruder moved over to a chair by the doorway. It was there that Ms Hawtrey had neatly folded her clothes and set them aside after Queen Vasilka had ordered her to strip. The woman bent over and plucked up one of Hawtrey’s black heels. She held up the shoe, and made sure that Ms Hawtrey could see her strapping it up in her bizarre red contraption.

On her way back to her bound victim, the intruder also picked up Ms Hawtrey’s glasses. She placed them on Ms Hawtrey’s face, and the gentlelady was quite glad to have their clarity back. She got a good look at the high-heeled shoe device. The shoe was secured at its centre by a couple of red straps which then connected to a longer belt, long enough to be a collar, or a gag…

Oh no. Oh no! Hawtrey squirmed in her ropes and looked to her captor with pleading eyes. Never had Ms Hawtrey imagined that she’d want to keep her knicker gag; but if her own shoe were to replace it, then clean undergarments were the lesser of two evils.

The hooded woman reached behind Ms Hawtrey’s head and untied her gag, which fell lifelessly to the floor. The bound domina immediately sealed her lips shut and drew a deep breath, expecting her captor to pinch her nose. But apparently, this mysterious guest was full of surprises.

SMACK

Her open hand connected with Ms Hawtrey’s breasts in a wicked slap, and the pain was more than enough to make the fair lady’s jaw drop. The masked intruder moved fast, and the knickers had been ripped clean from Hawtrey’s mouth before she could even react.

Successful as that trick had been, her assailant didn’t repeat it a second time. She just held up the shoe gag and asked, “Ready to accept the inevitable, or do you wanna try resisting some more?”

Hawtrey shook her head and pleaded, “P-Please, we can talk this out. Just tell me wha-- GHRGRRRMPH!!!"

She resisted as best she could, but once that black-clad ogre had the shoe’s tip in Ms Hawtrey’s mouth, it was only a matter of pushing. Its pointed toe dug deeper and deeper into her oral cavity, sliding over her tongue as it filled up her big groaning mouth.

Ms Hawtrey’s eyebrows instinctively shot upward. She was flabbergasted at just how effective that gag was. Its filthy sole kept her tongue thoroughly pressed down, and the toe went so deep inside her that it raised a legitimate fear of a gag reflex. The foul taste alone was enough to make Hawtrey feel ill at any rate. She could even smell the scent of her own feet rising from the shoe gag. She liked to think that that smell is what made her eyes water, but there were frankly many reasons.

As it turned out, the shoe gag harness wasn’t the only thing in that monster’s handbag. After the gag had been tightly strapped in place, the masked woman returned to her bag and pulled out a small plastic baggie. This time, Hawtrey could see its contents: a pair of foam earplugs. She tried to beg, but stopped after realising that the shoe gag only tasted worse when she tried to talk.

The masked woman had little trouble inserting the first earplug. She could do whatever she wanted with that poor bundled up school teacher. But before she pushed in the last earplug, she pulled in close to Ms Hawtrey’s ear and whispered in a playful, promiscuous coo.

“Now the real fun begins…”

That was the last thing Hawtrey heard, apart from her own whimpers; And she would hear those in abundance.

If only her assailant had stopped there. If only she had just left Hawtrey to hang in that undignified state, but of course that wasn’t enough for this barbarian. She stood face to face with Ms Hawtrey, looked her in the eye, and removed her hood.

‘No,’ Ms Hawtrey thought. ‘Oh, bloody hell, no!’

“NMN MM NMPH!!!" Ms Hawrey’s heart sank, and she thrashed around in a panicked frenzy.

Her captor seemed to revel in this frantic reaction. She made a giddy little smile, shot Hawtrey a cute wink, and that was the last thing the British damsel saw. Her glasses were promptly removed, and replaced with a dark blindfold. Now trapped in silent darkness, Ms Hawtrey was overcome with despair. She had been stripped of her clothes, her mobility, her voice, her hearing, her sight, and her dignity. There was nothing left! Nothing but the taste and smell of her own ghastly shoe!

Seconds later, Hawtrey would be proven wrong. There was one more thing she had retained: her sense of touch.

The first thing she felt was a light tugging at her groin. Then, something ran through her slit.
Hawtrey whimpered at first, but then recognised it as a crotchrope. It was a bloody useless
crotchrope, since it only connected to the rear of her hip harness. There was no way to even pull on it!

That wasn’t the end of the ropes though. Although her ankles had been strung up behind her, her legs had largely remained free. That all changed when her tormentor bound her legs together at three separate points.

Hawtrey felt no more ropes after that. She hung there for a handful of uneventful seconds before feeling something jerk above her. A few seconds later, it happened again, then again. It wasn’t until her knees touched the floor that Hawtrey realised she was being lowered.

She settled down on her side atop the cold floor, stretching her legs. Of course, she was still all tied up, but what little stretches she could do were surprisingly delicious. The first ounce of pleasure she’d gotten since she’d dominated Queen Vasilka.

“Mmph!" Ms Hawtrey let out a startled mewl as she felt herself being flipped on her back and straddled. The next thing she felt was just as startling, but it didn’t make her mewl. It made her moan.

“mmn mmm…"

Her captor was playing with her bound breasts, but not like before. In contrast to that vile treatment Hawtrey had endured earlier, she was now being gently caressed. Her captors thumbs circled her nipples with such grace, soothing their pain bit-by-bit with every rotation.

There was more slack in Vasilka’s ropes now, but Ms Hawtrey still couldn’t get out. The struggles only served to remind her that she was a prisoner. And besides, her captor was so talented at nipple play that it got to the point where Ms Hawtrey didn’t want it to stop.

Her captor’s loving fingers slowed down to a crawl, and she felt her weight shifting. Then, she felt lips touching her cheek. It wasn’t a forceful kiss like the one Vasilka had provided, but a soft and tantalizing one.

The intruder got off of her, and shifted her back onto her side. It was disappointing to feel those loving hands leave her breasts, and Ms Hawtrey hated the fact that she felt that way. She wasn’t left alone for long, though. Her head was lifted, and a soft pillow was nestled beneath her tired head. Warmth enveloped her back, and she realized that her captor was now spooning her.

Hawtrey had always loved being the little spoon, and her captor was an exceptionally good big spoon. She wrapped a leg around Ms Hawtrey, holding her close and stroking her hair. Having her hair played with like that always felt so good. It was compounded by even greater pleasure as kiss after sweet kiss was planted against Hawtrey’s neck.

The intruder’s other arm had been wrapped around Ms Hawtrey’s torso, holding her tight as they cuddled. It started caressing her, and that was spiffing; but as Hawtrey became more and more captivated by the sheer pleasure of it all, that caress turned into a tease. The frustration of this tease grew as it wandered lower and lower, towards her womanhood.

And then it pulled on the crotchrope.

“MMMMPH!!"

Behind her blindfold, Hawtrey’s eyes doubled in size. She was blown away by the stupendous ecstasy that rope could generate. The kidnapper had tied it off perfectly, and knew precisely how hard and long to pull. She kept going, generating wave after wave of tingling pleasure.

Ms Hawtrey’s breath was rapid and heavy, which caused her to sniff the shoe even more. She moaned over and over, which caused her tongue to touch the sole of her shoe more. Both of those were unfortunate, but tolerable. She had practically gotten used to them by now. At any rate, she loved that crotchrope more than she hated that gag.

Her captor suckled at her tender neck as she pulled the crotchrope like a violinist hitting the perfect note with their bow. It dawned on Hawtrey that her face and body had gotten extraordinarily hot, and drool was soaking into the pillow beneath her gag.

She was going to cum. She knew it for sure. She tried to make it even better by imagining her ideal man, or remembering her favourite session. In a state of sensory deprivation, that should have been easy, but she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t muster up anything but the taste and smell of that blasted shoe as a quaking orgasm shot through her.

“MMMMNMMPH!"

And just like that, her captor was gone. Hawtrey laid there, all tied up and utterly exhausted.

With her eyes and ears nullified, time became hard to grasp. Ms Hawtrey didn’t know how long she laid there. All she knew was that after some amount of time, her blindfold was removed. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light, and she recognised Queen Vasilka. She looked frazzled, and confused, but she was free. The European queen reached down and removed Hawtrey’s earplugs.

“What happened?”

Good question What happened here? A delicious form of torture of all kinds

Episode 1 - Part 3:



On the fourth day of the competition, everyone kept to themselves. There was no bondage, no squabbles, and no domination. Not even Icy Fyre pursued her vendetta against Jynx, and she wasn’t about to, because Bee Devine had commanded so.

The contestants had all been instructed to remain passive because there was an event scheduled for today, and so the ‘reality’ of their little reality show required some Devine intervention. The showrunners couldn’t stage an event with their contestants all bound and gagged. They needed everyone dressed up and ready to go by high noon when the alarm sounded.


BWEEEP... BWEEEP... BWEEEP


“All contestants, report to the playroom immediately.”

Everyone did as they were told. They each arrived on time, dressed in the dominatrix costumes that had been picked out for them, with the usual exception of Hawtrey and Velvette. The camera crew had set up in the playroom, and when they were around, the dommes were expected to be dressed to kill.

Just about all the rules changed when the director took the reins. When that happened, raw improvisation tended to give way to scripted choreography. And so, all dolled up for the cameras, the contestants neatly lined up in the playroom as instructed.

There, they watched a pre-recorded message on a large monitor hung high on the wall. The cameras paid no attention to the monitor. Its message would be clipped into the final cut anyway. Instead, the cameras sought to capture the contestants’ reactions as they watched Bee Devine on the screen and listened closely to her words.

“Listen up, dearies. You lasted in this competition for over three days. That means that one of you is halfway towards being eliminated!

Don’t you worry just yet though. Your goddess is a benevolent one, and she is willing to grant a wish for one worthy domme. ‘Who’ you ask? Well, we’re here to decide that. The time has come, to fight for her favor!”





The editors had assured Bee Devine that there would be some flashy scene transition after she dropped that line. The legendary dominatrix frankly couldn’t wait to see them work their magic, because the real transition was awkward as all hell. The competitors were all guided out of Dungeon Devine, and into a neighboring studio.

There, the carpenters had worked tirelessly to furnish it for whatever the challenge of the week required. For this first challenge, they had installed a humongous round table, which was covered by a black tarp. A chain hung from the ceiling and hooked into the center of the tarp.

Bee Devine sat atop the only permanent set piece in the room: a glorious throne that had been raised up so high that even when seated, the queen of queens looked down on everyone. The throne was coated with an incredible ChromaFlair paint that would transition from black to purple, depending on the lighting and angle. It was highlighted with a similar paint that would transition from red to pink. Bee Devine adored that throne, and had already started bargaining with the Props Master to bring it home with her after the finale.

The contestants were all directed to stand evenly apart around the table, like King Arthur and his knights. Once they were all in their place, they were directed to look up once more at Bee Devine. The director called ‘Action’, and Bee acted out her lines.

“In the world of BDSM, communication is crucial, but we dominas walk a fine line. As important as communication may be, we just love to shut our partners the hell up!”

Half of the contestants smiled and nodded in agreement as their queen went on, pausing between every three words for dramatic effect.”

“That is why… this week’s challenge… is all about gags!”

On that cue, a backstage operator pulled up the chain and lifted the tarp off of the table. The dommes all turned to watch, and were blown away by what had been hiding under the table cloth.

Every square inch of that massive table was covered in gags. Such an incredible collection would leave any kinkster with her jaw on the floor. There were gags of all kinds, and gags of all sizes. There was also just as many items that could be used as stuffing to improve the gags. If there was any muzzling device on the face of the earth that wasn’t included on that table, then Bee Devine didn’t know of it.

“Ladies,” Bee announced. “For the first part of this challenge, you will each take turns trying to relay a message to the domme standing on your right. The domme standing on your left must try to stop you, using one of the many gags you see before you. It’s first come first serve, and you may select your gag… now!”

They descended on that table like Black Friday shoppers, clawing up whatever BDSM gear they could get their hands on. They moved so quickly that everyone had gathered up something before the director had a chance to cut in.

“No, don’t actually start! We gotta get at least three takes first!”

Citrine, who had already grabbed an inflatable panel gag, looked extremely dissapointed. Scarlett glanced at the oversized ball gag in her hand, decided that she could do better, and willingly put it back. And Ms Hawtrey… she was still staring at a nearby shoe gag as though it was going to sprout little legs and charge at any moment.

They all surrendered their gags, however, and went along with the director’s demands. Some time later, the crew had all the footage they wanted, and the dommes were finally allowed to pounce on the gags they had been eyeing oh so eagerly. The scramble was loud and chaotic, but very brief. They would probably repeat that shot from different angles to make it look longer.

The dommes were now at their favourite part, but even then, they were instructed to apply the gags one at a time. It made for easier editing and antsier contestants. Miki went first, inserting a wadded sock into Lady Estela’s mouth before plastering three strips of tape over it. It was a good-looking gag on a good-looking model, but it wasn’t as effective as it could have been. It’s benignity surprised more than a few people, but Miki sure seemed pleased with herself.

Estela had picked tape as well, but she had other plans. She showed off an extra-large pair of satin panties before balling them up and shoving them into Queen Vasilka’s mouth. From there, she wrapped the tape around Vasilka’s head seven times, and the result was one tight wrap gag. That was the beauty of tape. It could be as strict or as mild as you wanted.

Vasilka’s choice surprised even Bee Devine, because it just wasn’t her style. The European queen – who’s portfolio had been full of lovely and dainty gags – had chosen a panel gag with a five-by-five-inch panel that was lined with more belt buckles than Scarlett’s goth boots. However, for all its size and flair, it was still a simple panel gag with one strap that went around the head.

Mistress Citrine had been quick to reclaim the pump gag she’d grabbed on the first take, and it wasn’t hard to understand her choice. The pump gag was a lot like tape, in that you could choose just how effective you wanted it to be. When she strapped it into Madame Muse’s mouth it looked like a simple panel gag with a bulbous tail, but that basic-looking gag could become incredibly strict, depending on how many pumps you gave it.

She gave it one and a half.

One and a half was the only way to describe what had happened, since Citrine’s second pump was barely even a squeeze. This squandering of a perfectly good pump gag raised more than a few eyebrows at the round table.

With the pump gag’s bulb dangling from her face, Madame Muse turned right, towards Icy Fyre. In her hands, she held a leather corset gag. The neck corset was a comfy gag. It got its name from the way it is worn not only over the mouth, but the neck as well. It was decently effective, and hard to remove. In spite of all that, it was not a popular gag, and there was a reason for that. It was also very hard to put on. The string lace at the back of the corset had to pretty much be removed entirely, then woven back in again, just so that the neck corset could slide over the wearer’s head.

The tediousness alone was enough to deter most dommes, but Madame Muse didn’t seem to care. In fact, she got the gag on in a respectable time. An impressive flex if nothing else. By the time she was done, Icy Fire was wearing a form-fitting leather collar that spanned from her collar bone, to just below her nose. The mask portion of the gag concealed a built-in mouth-stuffer that made for a decently muted damsel.

Icy’s gag of choice was a familiar one, but still very respectable. A trainer-style panel gag. Everyone present had seen one before, and they all knew that it would get the job done. Scarlett was the one who got to wear that gag, and the square black panel suited her dolled up face quite well. The leather panel had six straps. Two straps went around like an ordinary gag, two more branched together between the eyes before reaching over her head, and the last two crisscrossed beneath her chin before strapping together behind her head.

Scarlet had a similar idea, but more basic: A trainer-style ball gag. The kinky gothic domme was the only one to put her faith in the iconic ball gag; but so far as ball gags went, this was the one to bet on. It had a huge rubber ball, and its numerous straps were buckled very tight around Jynx’s head. You could see the ball compressing between her teeth as Scarlett pulled her chinstrap tight.

Now, it was Jynx the Mynx’s turn to gag Ms Hawtrey. Apparently, the busty Texan domina was more interested in humiliating her fellow domme than actually gagging her. The gag that she chose was little more than a standard ball gag, but it was attached to a bulky dog mask. The mask had a snout that extended out from its wearer’s face, and would do little to muffle her voice. Hawtrey looked less than thrilled to be wearing that, but she didn’t have much choice.

Hawtrey took the longest time to apply her gag. That is to say, ‘gags’. The dog-lady had plucked up every cloth and scarf within reach, and she applied every single one of them to Velvette’s mouth.

She worked systematically, starting with the smallest cloths and ending with the biggest. The first two cloths were used as stuffing, a handkerchief was used as a cleave gag, and then four different scarves were layered over top of that. The last gag went over Velvette’s nose, and the sum of all that cloth caused the lower half of her face to bulge out like a big dome.

Now thoroughly covered up, Velvette turned her attention to Miki. Like Vasilka and Icy before her, Velvette had selected a sort of panel gag. Unlike the others, Velvette had chosen the mother of all panel gags. This gag looked like something that would be used to muzzle the world’s deadliest psychopath. Velvette probably wasn’t aware of just how appropriate her choice had been.

The muzzle gag was a bit large for Miki’s small head, but Velvette pulled the straps nice and tight. And boy, were there a lot of straps. The muzzle’s panel covering was connected to several straps, and even featured a wide ‘headband’ strap that went around Miki’s forehead and connected to its own web of leather belts. Not a lot was going to get past that leather muzzle.

With all ten contestants gagged, Bee Devine – the only dominatrix left with a free voice – spoke.

“Looking good, dearies,” she smiled. “Now, if you’ll look under the table, you’ll each find a secret message for your eyes only.”

On their cue, the dommes reached under the table in front of them. There had been ten paper scraps taped to the underside, just as Bee said.

“It’s up to you to repeat that message with the contestant on your right. Your rank in this contest is determined by how quickly you can get your message across, as well as how quickly you can understand the message. If you can’t guess it within two minutes… well then don’t expect to win this game.

The contestant with the best average time will be declared the winner, and earn her goddess’ favor. But wait, there’s one more thing…”

Bee Devine reached behind her and pulled out a pair of shiny handcuffs for all to see. “No talking with your hands!”

She tossed the handcuffs towards the table, and Velvette was the one to catch them. The cuffs had a safety release that anyone could undo, but they would get the job done just fine. With the director satisfied with all the footage, they paused their recording and explained the rules again to make sure everyone understood.

Velvette would wear the cuffs behind her back first and try to speak her message to Miki, who was given a small whiteboard and a dry-erase marker to write down her guesses. Once she had something written down, she would hold the board up, facing the center of the table.

No matter who held the board, a camera could read it. The set had been rigged up so that once someone guessed correctly, a bell would ring and green lights would shine down on the table. Wrong guesses would get red lights and a loud buzzer. Once the timer had run out or someone guessed the right answer, the whiteboard and handcuffs would be passed to the right until they had gone all the way around the table.

“Best of luck, ladies,” Bee called out. “The timer starts… now!”

[mention]TomYi[/mention] Congratulations on the 10,000 milestone!!

I had a few installments here to catch up on after being offline for the past 3 weeks and I'm really glad to see this progressing the way it is . I still stand by my comment from 2 months ago "You have created a work of art with this story and this is nothing short of fantastic". I will 100% be sticking around. Thank you for writing this tale for us to enjoy!!

“mmm mn nm mmm”

Miki just stared blankly at Velvette. She didn’t even try to write a guess down. Seeing this, Velvette spoke again, loud and slow.

“mmm mn nm mmm.”

Both Velvette and Miki had half their face covered up with a gag, but in that moment, everyone could see a look of despair cross their eyes. They had just realized that they weren’t going to win this.

As the timer ticked its way down to zero, Miki started getting desperate and making more and more wild guesses. ‘You are not tall?’ ‘This is a fish?’ ‘I love Bee Devine?’

Every guess resulted in red lights, and the timer ran out on poor, clueless Miki. But every domme had more than one chance to get ahead in this competition. Now, it was Miki’s turn to wear the cuffs, and communicate with Lady Estela.

Sadly, the muzzle gag strapped all over Miki’s head was almost as effective as Velvette’s layered gag. Miki tried her hardest, but the muzzle reduced her high-pitched voice down to a kittenish mewl.

“Knm mn mmn phmm phm”

To her credit, Estela was closing in on the right answer when the timer ran out: Can we have some fun? Unfortunately for her and Miki, the timer did run out once more.

Lady Estela’s gag was prettier than it was effective. In less than a minute, Queen Vasilka had correctly guessed her message: I like playing rough. But when her turn came to talk with Citrine, she had a much harder time. It was really quite the demonstration of just how effective tape could be depending on how it was applied.

“mmk mn hrmph”

Citrine scribbled guess after guess in rapid succession, but they each failed. After a minute had gone by, no one expected Vasilka’s message to get through. So naturally, quite a few contestants were shocked when she held out her whiteboard, and green lights flooded the table.

‘Make it hurt.’ That was the message.

Citrine’s luck only improved from there. The panel gag wasn’t as effective as it appeared, and Muse was able to guess Mistress Citrine’s phrase in even less time.

As Madame Muse easily got her message across to Icy Fyre, it generated a few sour looks from her competitors. Citrine should have pumped that gag up more. They clearly all felt that way, and it was frustrating for them to watch Icy guess the message in record time.

Icy, Scarlett, and Jynx were all muted to a similar degree. That is to say: very muted. They were all able to convey their secret messages, but all three of them took over a minute, and they all looked wonderful trying too. Jynx even started drooling as she repeated herself, and Icy’s resulting smile could be seen even through her neck gag.

Ms Hawtrey was almost reluctant to speak. The dog mask may not have been the most effective gag, but it was something that that old school teacher did not want to be seen wearing. Her reluctance undoubtedly cost Velvette some points, but once she started talking, it didn’t take long to guess it.

“Mn rdmn pfr pwhhtmn”

I’m ready for playtime?

Velvette guessed it faster than many of her competitors had, but her initial flop with Miki meant that she didn’t stand much of a chance.

But the match wasn’t over yet.

“Dearies,” Bee Devine said. “You have all had your chance to speak through your gags, and your times have all been clocked in. The circle is complete.”

She paused, not just for dramatic effect, but to let that feeling of conclusion fester in the contestants’ heads before she continued. “As I said before: Mistresses like us walk a fine line. Even though we’re constantly gagging our partners, communication is always essential. For the second part of the challenge, you will each be given a new secret message.”

Everyone perked up, but their expressions were different. Some of them looked unpleasantly surprised, and others looked gleeful. It was a dead giveaway of who had picked up on Bee’s hidden clues, and who hadn’t.

“The second challenge will have the same rules and the same procedure as the first. Only now, you will be sharing your secret message with the domme on your left!”

Despite the gags in everyone’s mouth, Bee Devine could hear gasps from where she sat. Some of them hadn’t been counting on this at all, and they weren’t thrilled one bit. Now they would all have to deal with the very gag that they had applied in the first place. The crew paused recording and quickly handed everyone a second message.

“Get those cuffs back on, Velvette. The game’s not over yet! Good luck, dearies. The timer starts… now!”

Ms Hawtrey’s face was covered better than anyone else’s but even behind that dog mask, she was visibly petrified. She had been one of the top contenders in the first round, but now she was up against the impenetrable wall of scarves that she had built over Velvette’s face, and she didn’t stand a chance. The timer ran out with no good guesses.

Jynx had much better luck. One might think that she had seen through Bee’s clues and deliberately picked a sub-par gag for Ms Hawtrey, but the queen of queens knew better. The muscle-headed sadist had mainly been interested in degrading her competition. It was by dumb luck that she was able to score exceptionally well.

When Jynx, Scarlett, and Icy got their turns to talk, the gags yielded similar results to round one. Overall, the result was mediocre, and not enough to get Scarlett nor Icy in first place.

Madame Muse and Citrine had much better chances, thanks to Muse’s inadequately inflated pump gag. Of all the contestants, it was clear that Citrine and Miki had the best foresight. They had both seen right through the goddess’ ploy, and tried to hit a nice balance with their gags. Unfortunately for Miki, her plan had been sabotaged by a thorough muzzling from Velvette.

Vasilka had a similar issue. Were it not for the seven circuits of tape wrapped around her head, she might have had a chance. But in the end, it all came down to Madame Muse, Mistress Citrine, and Jynx the Mynx. The winner was still unclear, but those three certainly had the best times.

Jynx had luck on her side, but both Muse and Citrine had performed admirably. On the second round, Citrine had even guessed Muse’s message – ‘What are you going to do with me?’ – on the very first try.

“Well done,” Bee said. “You may now remove your gags. The competition is over.”

One by one, the gags all came off. Some faster than others. The editors would undoubtedly be including an amusing snippet of Velvette untying scarf after scarf, or Vasilka gradually unwrapping thirteen feet of tape from her head.

While mouth-stuffing was being dislodged, and jaw muscles were being massaged, the crew was working off-camera to calculate everybody’s average time. Eventually, an intern ran up to Bee Devine and showed her a tablet with the final score. He was waved away, and the cameras turned back to the queen bee.

“Jynx the Mynx, Madame Muse, and Mistress Citrine, come kneel before your queen.”

All three of them did as Bee Devine said, kneeling before the goddess’ throne like a trio of obedient subs waiting to be collared. It made the legendary dominatrix want to chuckle. No matter who was the Alpha Domme, they were all Bee’s bitches.

“Citrine,” Bee started. “Your strategy worked well. You had an average time of fourty-eight seconds.”

That made the blonde domina smile with pride. Bee continued.

“Jynx, you chose the right gag, and wound up with an average time of fifty-six seconds.”

The ebony queen maintained a solid poker face. She already knew that she wouldn’t be the winner, but she wasn’t about to let her disappointment show.

“And finally, Madame Muse,” Bee took long pauses at the perfect times. People like her were made for wielding dramatic tension. “You read your partner’s pretty gagged lips with great expertise. In the end… your average score… was fifty seconds.”

Mistress Citrine bit down on her lip to stop herself from cheering, and lowered her head to hide her overjoyed beam. She had the winning score!

“Everyone give a round of applause for this week’s winner, Mistress Citrine!”

The dommes all did as their queen commanded, but they put their hands together in a bitter, unenthusiastic clap.

“You may all return to the Dungeon. Everyone but Citrine.” Bee Devine waved them away, and they obeyed. But before Velvette could make her exit with them, someone from the crew pulled her aside. She was guided somewhere where she wouldn’t hear Citrine’s conversation with the queen of queens.

“Congratulations, Mistress Citrine.”

“Thank you, my goddess.”

Such good manners. Bee liked this one already. “As the winner of Alpha Domme’s first challenge ever, you are to be rewarded with a special opportunity. You have earned your goddess’ favor, and so, I shall grant you a wish. Tell me, dearie, what do you desire?”

That talk of wishes was, of course, scripted. The winner of the ‘Fight for her Favor’ challenge was indeed entitled to a special wish, but there were obviously limits to what a famous dominatrix could do. The cameras were turned off once the director was satisfied with the footage. Only then, did the real negotiations begin.

“Okay, so my wish involves a few different favors,” Citrine said, “but they’re all sufficiently reasonable.”

Bee Devine raised an eyebrow. “Reasonable by who’s standards?”

“I read the terms and conditions for this stuff,” Citrine yammered. “‘Sufficiently reasonable’ is what the contract says under section 6.3.4 under ‘Prizes and Revenue’. I think my requests will all meet those standards.”

“Go on and name them.”

“Well, I want temporary access to a private room that the other contestants won’t have access to; and from that room, I’d like to set up a two-way connection with Dungeon Devine. Your crew already has something like that set up on the intercoms, and I’d like to use it for just one occasion.”

Bee had to ask more than one crewmember if that would be possible, but they all seemed to think that it could be done; and in good time too. With their reassurance, Bee turned back to the contest winner.

“Very well. We can do that.”

“Yes! Thank you, goddess! But, there is one more thing I’ll need…”

“You’re pushing your luck here, Citrine.”

“Oh, but I promise you’ll love it! It’s super easy!”

She told Bee Devine her final request, and the queen of queens had to stop and make sure she’d heard her right.

“You call that ‘easy’?! Where the hell am I supposed to even find something like that?!”

Citrine smiled. “In my luggage. The luggage that I didn’t bring into the dungeon with me.”

Bee leaned forward. “Come again?”

“Y’see, I could easily grant my own wish five times over, but section 2.4.2 prohibits me from bringing something like that onto the show. However, this doesn’t violate any of the clauses in 6.3. With your permission, I could use my win to bring my special little arsenal aboard.”

Bee Devine took a deep breath and leaned back in her throne. After a very long pause, a grin curved out from her wicked lips.

“I like the way you think, dearie. Consider yourself lucky, because I will grant every one of those requests!”

“Yes!” Citrine quietly clapped her hands and jumped with joy. “Thank you so much!”

“Give me something real good for the cameras, and I’ll call it even,” Bee said, calmly. “Now go and talk with the director’s assistant. He’ll help you out.”

Citrine thanked her again and excitedly walked away. With her gone, the cameras were aimed once again at Bee Devine. She was given some coils of rope, which she inspected closely. They were in great condition. No fraying or abrasions.

“Bring her in,” Bee said.

An intern left, and returned with Velvette. When the cameras booted back up and began recording, Velvette was standing all alone before the queen of queens.

“Velvette, my dear, do you know why you’re here?”

“N-no ma’am.”

“You are here because you haven’t been doing well on the Domme Tally. In fact, you have the most votes.”

“What do you mean,” Velvette asked. She looked as though she understood, but didn’t want to believe it.

“I mean the fans have voted to boot you off the show, and they must have done that for a reason.”

“I-I don’t--"

“Shush,” Bee commanded. “You aren’t going home. Not today. But the domme with the most on the tally deserves to be punished…”

Bee pulled at a bight in the coil of rope, and it unfurled down to the floor. With that one quick motion, Bee Devine stood over Velvette with a long strand of rope in her strong hands.

“…wouldn’t you agree?”

A dainty jingling sounded throughout the playroom. It repeated in sync with the thuds of Velvette’s clumsy hopping. Hopping was just about all she could do. Bee Devine had seen to that.

First, she had ordered Velvette to take off all her clothes. If it were anyone else, they would have gotten a middle finger and a cold shoulder, but the queen bee wasn’t someone you said ‘no’ to. Her clothes had been replaced by dozens of feet of rope, which Velvette wore from head to toe.

Velvette’s wrists had been tied behind her back, and pulled so high up that they were nearly crossed in a reverse-prayer position. It was as though her right hand was reaching for her left shoulder, and the left hand was reaching for the right shoulder. And it was there that they stayed, thanks to a web of ropes that enveloped her whole body. The body harness that Bee Devine had trussed up formed a bunch of hexagons running down Velvette’s body like some sort of soccer-ball. The pattern went all the way down to her ankles where they were finally tied off. The entire tortoiseshell grid was wrapped tight, and it barely even allowed for the tied-up tomboy to bend her knees.

Still, she could bend them enough to muster a hop, but Velvette didn’t even want to do that. Once she was all tied up, Bee Devine had outfitted her with a purple collar that had four D-rings and three noisy bells. Every time she hopped, the bells would chime like a beckon call. An invitation for any one of her opportunistic competitors. Miss Devine had trussed her up, strapped a bit gag in her mouth, and sent her out on a silver platter!

The ropework was about as solid as one would expect from the queen of queens. Suffice to say, Velvette wasn’t about to break free anytime soon. She needed shelter. Sanctuary. Her private room was her only hope, but that had never felt so far away.

Velvette hopped in a B-line for the dormitories. There was luckily no one around at the moment, so she was free to bounce as loud and clumsily as she pleased.

jingle-jingle-jingle

‘Stupid Dome Tally,’ Velvette thought to herself. ‘What more am I supposed to do?! Sure, my thing with Muse didn’t go well, but I’m not the worst one here! I owned Estela way harder, and don’t even get me started on--’

Icy Fyre entered the room.

Velvette made a terrified gasp and stumbled. Her clumsiness came back to bite her, and she went down hard. She wanted to scream as she hit the floor, but chomping on the bit gag proved to be a decent alternative. Her impact coincided with the door slamming shut. Velvette couldn’t see the door – she had landed between a stretching rack and some wooden horses – but just from the sound alone, she could tell that Icy was pissed.

She could hear the stomping thuds of Icy’s feet drawing nearer and nearer.

WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP

And then they started to get quieter.

There was no pause, or falter in her steps. She just kept on walking, right past Velvette. By some miracle, the bound and gagged tomboy remained unnoticed; At least, for the moment. Icy had travelled to a workstation, and was now filling up a bag with all kinds of restraints. She had her back to Velvette, but that wouldn’t last.

It seemed like an opportunity to sneak away, but the bell around Velvette’s neck would doom her if she tried to move. Her only option was to lay there and hope that Icy wouldn’t turn around and see her. It all depended on where she was going once she’d stocked up.

After one nerve-wracking minute, Icy zipped up her bag and turned right, towards the gym. That woman hadn’t even changed out of her outfit from the gag challenge, and if she hadn’t worn her hair off to the side, she might have seen Velvette in the corner of her eye. Or perhaps not. She was moving with a purpose, and might not have stopped for anything.

Velvette breathed a massive sigh of relief once Icy had left. Alone at last, she could focus on getting back up. With her arms and legs tied, that took a hot minute. She had to sit up against the stretching rack and lean hard on it as she worked herself back into a standing position.

She had to hurry. The playroom saw plenty of traffic, and she probably wouldn’t get lucky twice. Velvette bounded towards the dormitories for all she was worth. She made it to the exit in good time, but once she got there, there was no good way to turn the handle!

With Velvette’s hands twisted up so high behind her back, the door handle was completely out of reach. And with her whole body so tightly woven up, she couldn’t even bend her knees enough to fix that problem. In the end, Velvette found a knot on her hip that was bulky enough to catch on the handle, and drag it down. She nudged her waist, and the door unlatched.

Velvette was forced to gamble. For all she knew, there’d be nothing but trouble in the dorms as well. One way or another, she couldn’t stay in the playroom. She had to bite the bullet, or the bit gag, at least.

Hallelujah! The dorms were empty too. She had to scramble. Had to get to her room ASAP!

jingle-jingle-jingle

Too much noise. Whatever. Couldn’t be helped. Her room was only five feet away!

‘Holy crap,’ Velvette thought as she shuffled herself up against the door handle. ‘I actually made it! I’m gonna be okay!’

She breathed in and focused. She’d done this before, and she could do it again. She lowered herself, and the handle turned partway before slipping off of the knot. Velvette cursed behind her gag and tried again.

Because of where the knot was, Velvette was forced to turn away from her door as she worked the handle. Because of this, she could clearly see the door on the opposite side off the hallway.

She saw it open, she saw Vasilka, and Vasilka saw her.

The dark-haired dominatrix stopped dead in her tracks. Just like Icy Fyre, she hadn’t changed from her latex costume either. She was still rocking a dark blue latex skater dress, and tall platform pumps. She stared up and down at Velvette. Her eyes looked shocked, as though she had just been thrown a surprise party.

And just like a surprise party, her bewilderment was quickly replaced with glee.

“My, my! Do you need some help…”

Poor Velvette I feel sorry for her - just a little. And a nice Cliffhanger!

Untidy living spaces always bothered Vasilka, but she didn’t mind a messy work place. This apparent contradiction confused people, but they just didn’t understand the difference. Home is where you can be safe from chaos. Work is where you inevitably face chaos.

And in Dungeon Devine chaos was a constant part of life, whether you were working or not. In fact, Dungeon Devine was quite possibly the only place where a bound and gagged dominatrix could randomly hop by your room. And just like that, your living space becomes your work space. Hence, why Queen Vasilka just couldn’t keep a tidy room.

Not that she was complaining or anything. She had a new model to work with, and whoever had tied up Velvette was a true prodigy in shibari!

The ornery tomboy’s arms were neatly secured in a high-hands takate kote, and the kikkou karada engulfing her entire body was impeccable. Queen Vasilka couldn’t have done it better herself!

Sadly, however, she would have to.

Or at least, she would need to modify it in some way. Anything to make it her own. She had planned something like this for Velvette, but to do it with someone else’s ropework would be a plagiarist’s move. This was a surprisingly challenging puzzle for the Bulgarian queen to solve. How does one add to something that was already so flawless?

The answer: change the presentation.
Vasilka’s prepwork was clumsy and rushed, but it didn’t involve much. She just needed a little step-stool, and a whole lot of rope. Everything else was all ready to go. She had her makeshift studio still in place, and her trusty suspension ring still hung from the ceiling with three ropes dangling at the ready beneath it.

“Grrrmmph mmn!”

Velvette snarled and twisted against her bindings. She wasn’t going anywhere, but it seemed that her fighting spirit endured nonetheless. How disappointing.

Queen Vasilka – not one to strike without a warning – hooked Velvette’s collar and pulled her in. The bald domme was actually a bit taller than Vasilka; but with her naked, and the queen wearing tall pumps, Vasilka could look down on her victim and gloat. She drew her lips close to Velvette’s ear, and shushed her. Her voice was quiet and gentle, but she knew the cameras would still pick everything up.

“Shhhhh, shhhh. You’re all mine now. Resisting will only make it worse for you.”

Velvette didn’t seem intimidated at all by that threat, and so Vasilka was forced to work with a struggling, protesting victim.

She began by forcing her bound prisoner to stand on the stool. That battle was definitely not easy, but Vasilka got Velvette right where she needed her in the end. From there, she very quickly took the main rope from her suspension ring and lashed it to the rope on Velvette’s body. The knot attached near her centre of gravity, between her crotch and her belly button.

The second rope was attached from the ring to the middle of Velvette’s chest. Vasilka had to mostly guess just how long she needed it to be, but she knew how to make a good guess. This was far from her first suspension. The third rope was tied above Velvette’s ankles, but it wasn’t tied off to the ring just yet. Instead, Queen Vasilka braced one hand behind her captive’s back and pulled hard on the ankle rope.

Velvette had been grunting and cursing throughout the whole ordeal, but now she screamed. She made a surprisingly girlish cry as she fell backwards, unaware that there was nothing to fear. Vasilka’s first two ropes caught her weight and held her face-up in the air. Queen Vasilka quickly tied the leg rope to the ring.

Velvette’s body harness was bearing her weight evenly, just as Vasilka had predicted. The front rope was a little long, and she had to retie it at just the right length. Then, she scrambled to tie a couple of extra tethers for good measure. Keeping a model suspended for long without enough support was always a bad idea, so she had to move fast. Aaannnd… success!

Velvette was safely and helplessly suspended. It may not have been an elegant process, but as she gazed upon her model squirming in the air before her, Queen Vasilka couldn’t help but beam like a giddy child. She had worked through the chaos, and was now certain that her vision would come to pass. She could already see the end result, just like how Michelangelo could see David in a giant block of marble.

She grabbed more rope. Velvette may have been stuck in the desired position, but the ropework wasn’t done yet. In fact, every one of the five ropes holding her up would eventually be removed or repurposed as Vasilka added new ones. In the end, Velvette was held up by five ropes on either side of her body. Her bound figure was bent in a smooth arch, like an old stone bridge. Her upturned belly was at the peak of this arch.

Velvette had hopped to her doorway wearing a kikkou karada, or as some less cultured people would called it: a tortoiseshell harness. Vasilka would expand on that with her own kikkou pattern. She would wind rope from Velvette to the ring above her, until the suspension itself was a web of tortoiseshell rope!

Velvette’s rebelliousness kept up throughout the entire rigging, and it caused Vasilka to botch a few knots while she decorated her ropework. Such minor inconveniences were the best Velvette could hope to achieve in her helpless state. She just had yet to accept that there was no escape.

It was for that reason that Vasilka kept Velvette’s gag in place while she prepared the new one. With so much beautiful ropework on display, the leather accessories just seemed off. Luckily, Vasilka knew exactly what to do about that…

She started by removing Velvette’s noisy collar. Then, the European queen took a new length of rope and began winding it around itself, forming a thick middle section; every bit as thick as the gag between Velvette’s teeth. When Vasilka was through, she had effectively cloned Velvette’s bit gag. Only this new one matched her bindings perfectly.

She unbuckled Velvette’s bit gag, and the strung-up tomboy couldn’t even get one curse out before the rope gag replaced it. Vasilka decided that it needed more intricacy to go with the shibari, and so more rope was added. In the end, Velvette was silenced by a trainer-style bit gag composed entirely of rope.

Vasilka tied off what seemed like the hundredth knot, and took a step back. She looked upon her work, and swooned at its beauty. The queen had outdone herself! Velvette was ready to be added to the portfolio!

Queen Vasilka scurried excitedly to her dresser and retrieved her most treasured belonging: her Canon EOS 5DS camera. That trusty workhorse had created some magnificent portraits over the years, and it was going to create many more at Dungeon Devine.

The producers had their fair share of reservations about that camera. They were concerned that Vasilka would use it as a conduit to the outside world, which was huge no-no in Alpha Domme’s rulebook. But despite that risk, they were also excited by the idea of a contestant providing them with hot photos. In the end, Vasilka got to bring her precious camera along for the ride, but without a Wi-Fi adapter card. It made no difference to the visionary rigger. She had plans of her own.

The ropes had captured Velvette’s body, but the camera would capture her image. And not just her, either. Before she inevitably left Dungeon Devine, Vasilka planned to suspend each and every one of her competitors and fill her portfolio with images of them, all helplessly ensnared by her ropes. Who could ever look at that photo gallery and still deny that Queen Vasilka was the Alpha Domme?

And besides, Vasilka liked taking pictures. She was good at it. Well equipped for it, too. And most important of all, she could work with just about any model.

Velvette was pissed. She had tired herself out ages ago, but she was still red with rage. For a moment, Queen Vasilka was worried that that scowl might take away from the beauty of the photo; but after a couple of sample shots, she decided that they didn’t look half bad. They told the story of a conquered beast – a predator turned prey.

She snapped some more shots, and liked what she saw more and more with every take. After a couple of minutes, she found the perfect composition, and captured the perfect image. The lighting, the expression, the contrast: all immaculate!

In spite of this great victory, Queen Vasilka wasn’t done. Velvette had at least fifteen more minutes before the suspension would start to take its toll. There was still time to experiment…

Vasilka’s lipstick might have suffered during the gag challenge earlier, but she had been quick to reapply it. That fix had mostly been because she wanted to look good for the rest of the day, but now it had a practical application as well!

She cradled Velvette’s head in her hands and leaned in. Slowly but firmly, she planted a deep kiss on her model’s cheekbone. Velvette let out a muffled curse as she was kissed, and it was music to Vasilka’s ears. When she finally pulled away, there was a picture-perfect lip print left in her wake.

Vasilka made an excited giggle and returned to her camera. She had been uncertain about her idea of adding kiss marks to her photo gallery – it certainly hadn’t made Miss Hawtrey’s images any better or worse – but now, with Velvette glowering at the camera, she knew that it was the right call.

Moments like this are what Vasilka lived for! She had created a thing of beauty, she had fun doing it, she was being paid to do it, and she even got to experiment and discover new techniques!

And the cherry on top, was the bound and gagged woman at her mercy.

Queen Vasilka carefully removed the lens from her camera and put everything away. There would be no more pictures, just footage. And she wouldn’t be directing this footage, only performing.

“Well, Velvette, I’d like to say that it was a pleasure working with you, but that’s only half true…”

She grabbed one more toy and began strutting in circles around her victim, swaying her hips like a triumphant diva.

“You see, your struggles might have been cute and all, but they were also an annoyance. A thorn in my shoe, yes?”

Her fingertips glided over Velvette’s skin, their touch no less gentle than a feather’s. “I like to repay my associates for their cooperation…”

CRACK

“Gmnph,” Velvette grunted as Vasilka’s crop struck her exposed bottom.

“…and I like to punish them for their misbehavior!”

She whacked Velvette three more times. They were all powerful strikes, and there was a pause between each one so that the audience could hear Velvette’s uninterrupted cries.

Vasilka grasped Velvette’s head and forced her to look up at her tormentor’s eyes. There would be much more punishment to come, but before that, Vasilka had one last thing to say to her visibly worried captive.

“I don’t know what you were expecting, but you’re going to wish that you had just submitted…”

!

Message from: TomYi

Hey, everyone. Happy New Year! Sorry for the delay with this newest update, but the sad truth is that things are about to slow down whether we like it or not. I’m going to university, and I’m going to have my hands full. I will try to get more updates out whenever I can, but I just can’t make any promises. I hope you guys stick around! Your support is what keeps me going. And hopefully, that won’t change.

Take all the time you need. Quality like this tale is always worth the wait.

Thank you for this wonderfully realised tale. It is always a delight to read. I almost (stressing the word, almost) feel sorry for velvette. I am excited to see what Queen Vasilka has in store for her

[mention]TomYi[/mention], Unfortunately our everyday lives will tend to get in the way of some things. I have my times where I'll disappear from the site for weeks on end. So I understand if you can not update story as often when you go university. You hooked me with the 1st chapter, so I have no plans to stop reading this story

The best of luck to you with you're studies. Update us when you can!!

Another great addition to the story ^-^ and I agree with the above, take all the time your high quality writing needs! Don't rush things!

This is a masterpiece. Just wonderful stuff...