Stories of Tie Up Games

The drill sounded next to my ear like a chainsaw as seven people watched, accepting glasses of sweet dessert wine from a waitress. It was all role-play, but the party guests played the part of rich, heartless assholes well. Their glances expressed superiority. Of course, they liked their prison plaything but acted as if their entertainment was nothing special. Just another party.

“Ever whipped someone?” a man asked the waitress, a girl with black hair tied in a tight bun. She was roughly my age.

“No, not really,” she replied. A clear lie. Everyone here was into bondage or BDSM. After putting her tray down, someone handed her a flogger (luckily), and she aimed it at my nude breasts. I could not move. Sharp stings followed that did not eclipse what had happened tonight so far. My entire body was bruised, full of rope marks, and with many ugly words written on it, like “squeeze hard”, “bitch” and “I enjoy this”.

“Again,” a woman encouraged. “Sorry,” the waitress whispered. A bit gag with an extra lip to keep my tongue down stopped me from answering. She hit me four more times before the guy continued drilling out the screws that had kept me chained to the board. It had been my favorite bondage position so far. Screws holding me prisoner had felt different than locks or knots. It was more permanent.

When I was freed, pairs of hands grabbed me, clicking my wrists into handcuffs and a leash to the steel collar around my neck. I was pulled into the house, and the door was closed behind me. Only Cecilia and the waitress remained with me, and they removed the gag, collar, and handcuffs.

“How are you, Cyan?” Cecilia asked. “You get a 20-minute break.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, accepting the bathrobe around my shoulders and sitting on the green leather chair. I had not processed the question, and my host asked again. “I’m tired, and my body hurts. It’s stiff and stinging.” The words left my mouth automatically. I had begun processing the hardships of the past three hours.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just the first time.” The waitress put a tray on my lap holding many different treats: nuts, dark chocolate, pieces of apple and banana, dried mango, chicken tenders, bread, and cheese. Water, a smoothie, and orange juice completed my dinner. They let me choose what I needed to recharge. I had not been given anything from the fancy dinner save for an oyster forced through my throat, so my stomach rumbled.

“We know. That’s why I’m doing a quick check-up. You are doing outstanding. Everyone adores your presence. You are easy to work with, communicate well, and appear both like a fearful, pitiful being and comfortable enough that you consent and enjoy the play. Thanks a lot.”

A smile curled around my lips. I liked that my sacrifices were appreciated.

“Do you want to finish the night with a big final, or have you had enough?”

“I can’t quit so close to the finish line.” Possibly, I felt peer pressure, but I would regret it otherwise. Having food, drinks, and a toilet break was lovely, but I could not start doubting myself right now. I am not headstrong, and that option would tempt my little brain.

“Don’t undersell yourself,” the waitress expressed, who curiously had been eavesdropping. She introduced herself as Arwen. “I was invited for this role but declined. I doubted I could handle it. You’re brave.”

My head went crimson. I had been a last-minute replacement, and Gregory had not informed me properly. I continued to eat, needing energy. I munched on the sugar-heavy choices and downed a glass of cola. I walked a few laps through the room and stretched my back before removing the bathrobe.

“Cyan, ready?” Cecilia spoke as she locked my cuffs again. I nodded. How foolish. She hugged me before opening the door. “Have fun,” she whispered. The second I was grasped, I felt regret. Some cloth was shoved into my mouth, and tape circled my head to keep it in. The sun had set, and many cozy lamps and torches lit the garden.

“Walk,” a woman commanded after my arms had been firmly boxtied. Something heavy was attached to them. Lead.

A crowd followed us to a side of the garden where I had been held previously. Being busy, overwhelmed, and often blindfolded, I had not noticed the pool, my least favorite type of hole. I could swim, or well, save myself from water. It was not something I would do voluntarily, and I had told Gregory this. Save for warm showers, I disliked the feeling of liquids around me.

Gaia, with her pink hair, also had a taped-up mouth. She was tossed in the pool and fished up by two men in shorts. It goes without a word, but Gaia was nude. I feared receiving the same treatment. I stopped and turned around to the woman who dragged me forward. I looked into her brown eyes and shook my head.

“Walk, bitch,” she hissed before leaning in. “Trust us, okay? Cyan, we’ll take care of you.”

I nodded and moved forward, receiving a harsh push, and belly-flopped in the water. With my arms tied behind my back, my swimming skills, and heavy metal connected to said arms, I sunk to the bottom. I pushed myself up against the bottom of the pool and took a deep breath through my nose. Swimming gagged is weird.

I was instantly pushed down again, and when I came up, people were laughing. “What a scared little bird,” a woman with long dreadlocks joked.

“More like a dirty rat.”

“The arsonist cannot burn anything underwater.”

“Finally, some justice.”

“Yeah, maybe this will teach her a lesson.”

A man with pink swimming trunks and a decent six-pack clipped a chain to my collar, and another pushed Gaia toward me. A third guy lowered gym weights in the water between us. Gaia was forced to the bottom of the pool, and the chain around my neck was linked to hers as it went under the weights. What was going on?

It took me a stupendously long time to realize that Gaia was pulling on the chain to force me down. Otherwise, she would drown due to the short chain between us. We could not be both above water. I let myself sink with the lead attached to me as Gaia pulled me down by my neck. Painful. I did not like this bondage at all. It was terrifying. Would Gaia allow me to breathe soon?

After what felt like a minute but was closer to 20 seconds, I pushed myself up against the white tiles and broke through the water’s surface, and my nose filled my lungs with fresh oxygen. Tape still covered my mouth. Then, I let myself flow to the bottom so Gaia would not suffocate.

In this way, we went up and down, and every time I breathed, two dozen people surrounded me. I was glad I ran frequently because I already felt my lungs burn. Diving down once or twice is fine, but doing it continuously (and maybe indefinitely) is pure torture. Especially when the audience, playing entitled elites, showed bored disdain, like a movie playing in the background during a party.

It was an awful situation that soon deteriorated. My saliva had soaked the cloth in my mouth and had reached the glue of the tape. The swift roundings were sloppy, and I tasted chlorine. I swallowed it to avoid it entering my lungs underwater. I went up, took a breath, and dove down again. The cloth in my mouth prevented me from closing it, and two shots worth of pool water entered my stomach before I went up again. This was bad news.

On the surface, my eyes searched for anyone paying attention, and I made eye contact with an older man. I shook my head and blinked rapidly to tell I had a problem. He did not react. I had to go down again, taking in an entire glass of water.

I tried again, focusing on Lotte, the German with a giant sunhat. It had no use at night, but she still wore it. When I went down, I doubted she got the message.

Then someone grabbed my neck, unclipped the chain, and pulled me out.

“You okay?” someone else asked.

I bobbed my head. Trying to figure out how to prevent myself from throwing up. That could be deadly when gagged. I screamed, and someone was smart enough to rip off the tape and pull out the wet cloth ball. “Bucket,” I whispered, bending over. I felt sorry for the silver champagne cooler. The brown liquid from my stomach covered the ice.

I first noticed a green flash from the smoke detector when I opened my eyes. I rolled around, clenching the soft blanket while sinking my body into the thick mattress. Even that movement jolted through my body. No specific area of my body hurt in particular. It felt broken in its entirety. My skin felt rough, my guts upset, my muscles sore, and my bones just emitted small shocks of pain. It felt like I had been drinking, running a half marathon, and crawling on a concrete floor the previous night.

Still, I had slept well. I had been tired, and my rest had been dreamless. Or my mind had been too exhausted to remember it. I had feared that the events of the previous evening would leave mental scars, but my mind seemed to handle it all well. Save for the one incident, I had not felt truly in danger. That helped. I separated the role-play well from the actual words and actions. In my memory, the entire evening was a wild dream, almost like a psychedelic scene in a movie. I just felt the voices talking about me, the fingers caressing my body, the heavy chains and stiff ropes pulling on my limbs, and the feeling of being nude, exposed, and vulnerable in front of so many strangers. It had been both wilder and safer than I had imagined.

I grabbed my phone. 12:30PM and a few messages from Gregory. I felt I was overstaying my welcome.

After I had been forced to tap out, I had been told Gregory had departed half an hour into the party. A junior lawyer from his office had been slacking off and had failed to prepare a brief in a multi-million copyright case. Gregory had to work all weekend to fix it. Nobody had warned me during the party as I was in a flow. I heard it afterward, during the debrief and aftercare session. Then, Cecilia and Ambrose offered to spend the night in a guest room.

I sent a quick text to Gregory. My car was still in his driveway.

All good! I just woke up. I feel OK. Yesterday was quite intense. I will come to you soon.

After a short shower, I pulled on yesterday’s clothes. At home, I would definitely change into something clean and thick. My body wanted more than a crop top and skirt. I probably had to get an Uber to fetch my car at Gregory’s. That would be awkward in my current state.

“Hey, sorry, I overslept,” I said as I bumped into Ambrose in the hallway. I had not expected to sleep for 13 hours straight.

“No worries! All good. Slept well? How are you feeling?” he inquired as he sent me into the kitchen with a dozen or so dishes to eat for breakfast (or brunch, or lunch, whatever you call it when you have your first meal of the day in the early afternoon). I opted for skyr, mixed nuts, and banana.

Cecilia gave me a hug when she entered. She was not that old, being somewhere in her mid-thirties. I stared at the white marble kitchen, half-imaging how such a young couple could own this mansion. The Demeyere pans and designer stainless steel bar stools were anything but cheap.

I had not hidden my gazes well.

“I heard you like cooking. We often also host smaller events. We would love to have you around again.”

They put me on the spot. “Yeah, right. I would love to return here in whatever role. But give me some time. I need to recover a little first.”

Maybe I made a mistake. They did not really pressure me, but I was uneasy. I was out of my league.

“That would be lovely. You are a wonderful addition to our growing community.”

I blushed. The current circumstances were peculiar. “Yeah, I would love to help you out with catering. It’s indeed a very nice kitchen. I mean, the entire place is amazing.” I am so stupid. Why am I even allowed to speak?

Cecilia laughed. “We got fortunate in life. We joined the same start-up just after college and got lucky. It was successful and sold off. You are entering your senior year. Majoring in math? Do you already have some plans for the future?”

She was deflecting, and I appreciated it. Their finances and unusual bondage hobby were not my concern.

“It’s tough. I want to start applying to some industry jobs soon, but I am unsure what I want to do. Like, whether I want to become a programmer or consultant or do something completely different.” I was at a good school and enjoyed a good GPA, but it was not outstanding. I also had no network or anything special on my CV. It was also scary to make such a big decision and be forced to act like an adult. “I have attended a few job fairs and will start applying in a few months.” My college years had flown by.

Ambrose and Cecilia sat down and continued questioning me as if they were interviewing me for the inner circle of this kink club. The duo owned part of the Tangled Maiden. Gregory enjoyed respect there, but this young couple was higher in the pecking order. After discussing my future professional career and my current circumstances (including horrible housemates), they moved subtly to bondage.

“It’s my little strange, secret hobby. Or, well, not so secret anymore. It has accelerated in the past few months. I am not sure where this is going. I am just going with the flow,” I blurted out after describing my history with the ropes and our dare website.

I could not read my hosts’ faces. They seemed content with my answers, but it sounded like I was a weirdo to me. Would this be the moment I would be offered to star in a porn flick? Or offered to stay at one of their friends’ places? I was unsure whether I wanted to enter that dark path. I felt naked now. The skirt and crop top covered too little.

Luckily, I did not have to make such choices today. Someone else had entered the house.

“Hey, Cyan, good afternoon!” a heavy German accent sounded. It was Lotte, the woman who had been my lead torturer yesterday and spent an hour talking to me as aftercare. “How is my favorite felon doing today?”

I smirked, feeling warmer. Despite her cruelty, her signaling had helped me through the previous evening. At the start, I had unconsciously decided to put my faith in her, and it had worked out. “Thanks for taking care of me yesterday,” I whispered into her ear as we hugged.

I finished my late breakfast by emptying my second cup of tea and third glass of fresh orange juice (I had not drank enough water yesterday, although that was not solely my mistake) as we chatted a little bit. Lotte offered me a ride to Gregory’s place and gifted me a large gift basket filled with artisan food products and a bottle of wine.

It was almost humbling that she drove an ordinary car and not some shiny executive’s car. Cecilia had lent me sweatpants and a sweater to hide my bruised body. At Gregory’s, I fetched my car. My sugar daddy fled back to his computer within five minutes. Black rings circled his red eyes. I had not seen him as stressed before.

Then I drove home, locked the door of my room, put on headphones, and dove on my bed. The next day, I would have to work in the garden center all day. Splendid.

@Beaumains, you are doing a fantastic job of making Cyan an actual person. As always, this was a pleasure to read.

“Who scares you more? Young people like you or older folks?”

“Younger, clearly.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe younger folks are more judgmental?”

“Are they? Or do you care more about their opinion?” Gregory inquired as he buttoned up his light pink shirt, which replaced the more expensive white dress shirt he had worn for his Zoom meetings all day.

“There’s also a higher chance I encounter them elsewhere.”

“Do you truly meet more younger people? Maybe in college, but they will have forgotten you before classes begin again. What is the average age of a customer in the garden center?”

“It’s just a feeling. It’s hard to describe. There is no good rationale, and I have not considered it. Or can you explain why you are into certain things? Why are you nervous? Were you not nervous today? How much was this lawsuit worth?”

Gregory laughed but did not answer my question. He loved to argue about everything but kept it always friendly and inquisitive. Sometimes, it was tiring, especially when I bounced a question back and did not get a reply. Still, his way of teasing me got me nervous.

All day, I had hung out on his couch wearing a plaited skirt, tight shirt, and panties. My legs and arms had been cuffed, and my sugar daddy thought it was a good idea to put my phone on the kitchen counter while locking the chains to the couch. “I don’t want you to be scrolling all day. That’s a waste of time,” he had voiced before handing me a pile of books he loved. I instantly put Fitzgerald and Hemingway away (who reads that voluntarily?) and had already read Orwell in high school (it was surprisingly good). Then there was a fiction book about the Roman lawyer Cicero, so I ultimately settled with a spy novel by John le Carré. I could complain, but there were harder ways to make money.

Now, I was wearing a short cyan latex dress (he loved me wearing blue as a pun with my name) that simultaneously showed cleavage and a turtleneck collar. I wore matching blue heels and natural make-up. “Shall we?”

Gregory grabbed my hand and led me to his car. “You want to back out?”

I smiled. In the morning, I heard what was planned for me. Tonight would not be a surprise like last weekend’s garden party. I preferred this. It was less extreme, and my fantasies had played with my mind most of the day. That Gregory sometimes used the remote-control vibrator from his study did also not help.

“It sounds fun! Scary but fun. I am going to do this. Do you know whether I can keep the result?”

“I’ll ask for you. Do you want to frame it in your room?”

I blushed. A depiction of me nude and in bondage would change my relationship with my roommates forever. There were talks about other places I could move to, but nothing was concrete yet.

“Cyan?”

“Maybe you could hang it somewhere,” I returned. I had not considered the implications, but Gregory did not call my bluff.

We parked behind the Tangled Maiden and were directed to a table for four. An older couple was already awaiting us. Both were lawyers I had met before and had been at the garden party. They were the average of Gregory’s and my age and continued the pesky trend of questioning me about my studies and job prospects. That was the best small talk of the evening as the three elders soon dived into politics and some recent law cases. They spent the main course with a recent Supreme Court opinion and its consequences, which was above my pay grade. I was quiet and nodded, grasping that the legal explanations were subtle and controversial. I could not say anything that was not foolish. I just enjoyed my (homemade!) pasta with excellent Parmesan cheese. Being the trophy girlfriend and enjoying surprisingly good food was not a bad way to spend a Wednesday night.

After a proper cheese platter with a matching muscat wine, show-time was near. Gregory and the lawyer couple teased me more before I was approached.

“Hey, you’re Cyan, right? Did you read my email, and do you have any questions?”

I rose and trailed the artist to a backroom. It is hard to explain, but Bree was someone I had never expected in a bondage and kink club, especially to run a class. Bress was young, my age, and her long white braid and ultra-pale skin were clearly caused by albinism. At first blush, she looked tough and menacing as a deep scar stretched from her chin to above her eyebrows. But her voice was soft, and her grey-white eyes were dreamy and avoiding mine. Her sneakers and red-white checkered summer dress, which a fifties housewife would wear, contrasted with my heels and short blue latex dress. She seemed too innocent for this place.

I pondered who I envisioned here: older men who had gotten a harassment complaint from HR, rich guys who were bored of their wives, younger lads who had left their parent’s basement for the first time in half a decade, and girls you would imagine posing next to a mafia boss in a movie. Yeah, that was too stereotypical. The Tangled Maiden had many patrons who were more well-adjusted to society. But still, I would not have expected Bree here. She was too pure.

“You have not been told the pose we selected for you, do you?”

“No.” I could not picture Bree turning into an evil, cruel dominatrix who whips misbehaving subs while calling them nasty names.

“Then I’ll keep you in the dark a little longer. Please wear this. No worries, it’s new. We are not allowed to do full nudity, even for art.”

It was a tiny, thin string the color of my skin. Many would once more glimpse at my body tonight. Bree let me change into a changing room, but she still saw me in the little thing. That extra privacy made no difference.

“I am going to tie a rope harness. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She grabbed a thick red rope, half an inch in diameter. It was thicker than one would usual for a rope harness, but Bree explained it was easier to draw. It would be a full-body portrait. The artist added a knot that pressed against my private parts, and the soft fibers also compressed both my breasts. It was not too tight.

“Can you deal with that for two-and-a-half hours?”

I thought for a second before agreeing. The timid girl knew how to tie a knot but was less comfortable tying me up. Professionally, she did not mention it, but she avoided touching my skin. And compared to others, the lack of banter and laughing made the entire experience a little more awkward than necessary. I attempted to make small talk, but it mostly went unanswered.

Bree forced two fake leather cuffs around my thighs and connected them with a little chain. It barely obstructed my walking but looked good. Then she handed me a long brown coat that I put on. It was oversized, and weirdly, it had no buttons or a zipper.

“I heard you are into public bondage, and someone suggested it for a pose. It’s a good exercise for shadows, while we do not have to focus too much on muscle groups. The class starts in five minutes. Shall we go?”

I smiled. This would be embarrassing. On my bare feet, I shuffled through corridors until we reached a small, well-lit room. Twelve large easels stood in two quarter circles behind each other while two bright lamps at both ends shone towards a wooden plate in the middle. I would stand in front of the white wall, wearing a pair of pink sneakers that stood in the middle. Even worse, six people were already in the room: five women and one man.

“Hey, good evening,” I flushed, folding the brown jacket around my bare skin. I recognized Antoinette, the host of last week’s garden party, and Arwen, who had been a waitress at said party. I had seen two other women (both seemed in their thirties) and the man (a hipster with shredded arms full of tattoos) before. I did not recall whether from the Tangled Maiden, the party, or elsewhere.

“Cyan! Amazing to see you here!” Antoinette exclaimed as she came in for a hug. “You’re once more a life-saver to agree to be a last-minute replacement.” As I accepted the hug, I took my hands off the jacket, instantly exposing my belly and chest and pressing it against Antoinette’s black dress. My cheeks turned even redder.

Bree directed me to sit down, which was possible as the vertical ropes of my body harness did not run over my back. She welcomed her other students before beginning a spiel about shadows, lighting, and emotion in art.

“Thus, this week, we will not focus too much on the face or posture. Remember to consider colors and textures and bring them to life with the charcoal. When is an edge sharp? When should you make it more gradual? How does that affect the composition and focus of your piece? Understood? As usual, I’ll set up our model, and then you can start drawing.” She sighed as if she was glad that her mini-lecture was over.

Bree directed me to the wooden plate. The pink sneakers were screwed into it, so I stepped into them. She laced them tightly, pinning me in place. Then she fastened two fake leather cuffs around my wrists. To them, she connected short chains whose other ends were linked to the holes where the jacket’s zipper would be, roughly at breast height. Now, to keep my breasts covered, I had to awkwardly clutch the jacket with both hands.

“Pull your hands apart, please, Cyan,” Bree asked. Twenty-four eyes watched me as I exposed what ordinary people revealed to one other person at most. “Focus on a single point and find a comfortable stance.”

I complied, aiming my elbows downward as I took a position. All stared at me and my compressed breasts. This was awful and I was trapped. I loved it. When Bree was content (which did not take long), her students started drafting me performing a fantasy I had only dreamed of: Flashing people with a jacket. Luckily, these people had consented to it.

Once again, @Beaumains, this was a joy to read.

GreyLord wrote: 4 months ago Once again, @Beaumains, this was a joy to read.

Absolutely!

Only just discovered this story, sorry I realise i’m late to the party!

I’ve read the first two chapters and its an interesting story, quite enjoying the dare concept. Looking forward to working my way through the rest of the chapters and any more

GreyLord wrote: 4 months ago Once again, @Beaumains, this was a joy to read.

Thanks a lot!

Bigballgag1 wrote: 4 months ago Only just discovered this story, sorry I realise i’m late to the party!

I’ve read the first two chapters and its an interesting story, quite enjoying the dare concept. Looking forward to working my way through the rest of the chapters and any more

Welcome! I am glad you are enjoying the concept!

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I sat in my car near the staff entrance of the Tangled Maiden, eating the scraps of a pasta salad I had made for dinner. The previous evening, I had been tied up and modeled almost nude for a drawing class. And I had been wearing a long jacket and posed as if I was flashing them. That had been something, and I could not believe I was back already. At least I would not be the victim tonight. Or that was the plan. Still, I was nervous. The past 24 hours had been weird (which I know I say a lot, but I still cannot comprehend this roller coaster of a summer), and this evening would also be eventful.

After the drawing class, I stayed for drinks (non-alcoholic as I had to drive Gregory back home), sitting at the bar and chatting with Marlon and Miriam. They were the innkeepers of the Tangled Maiden and had always been keen to talk to me. I was unsure whether they were nosy, wanted me for some project, or were trying to ensure I felt safe and welcome.

That night, the topic landed on the bondage-dare website that had brought me into this mess. I still posted regularly on it but censured myself. Some bondage enthusiasts I had recently met followed my posts. So, I could not report my exact thoughts as it could be deduced about who I was writing. I also quit writing too much about Gregory. That evening, the two innkeepers joked about B0undB0ndGir7.

That had been a painful topic.

The relationship between Riley and me had weakened significantly. It was no secret she was envious of my bondage adventures or at least the doors that had opened for me. We had learned we knew each other in real life and shared a quirky, hyper-specific online community. Then, I got a million opportunities while she remained alone at home with her two cats. Satisfied with the amount of bondage, I had declined a bondage meet-up with her, and my motivation and love for the garden center had diminished. I was still unhappy about my reduced hours, and Gregory paid better for less arduous work.

“Pizza!” I exclaimed as Riley entered my car with a full food delivery bag. It smelled heavenly. “That’s not what I expected. The pizza dare is most often flashing the delivery driver. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah…” Riley mumbled. The rules of our site state that dares should not burden strangers.

I smiled at her to boost her confidence, but I had not expected the black cap, strawberry-blonde hair in a ponytail, dark blue bottom-up shirt, and black skirt. “What do you have to do to prove yourself?”

“Make ten deliveries. You’ll be my driver. Each delivery has an envelope with a special request.”

“So you have to suck off a few guys?” I smirked.

“I was not planning on doing that. I was told to draw my line.”

Yesterday, Miriam proposed to invite Riley for a guest membership but let her complete a dare first due to her background. For safety reasons, they interviewed her first, so I waited in the car. They had arranged everything in a single day. Riley had agreed, and now she was shaking.

“Sounds good. What’s the first address?” I queried, entering it on my phone.

We drove to a shabby apartment in the city center, and Riley went in with two pizzas. She returned a few minutes later, all giddy and smiling. She slammed the car door shut and stared at me with twinkling eyes and flushed cheeks.

“What did they make you do?”

“Show my boobies. Flash them. There was a guy and a girl.”

I smirked before driving to our next customers. Again, Riley exchanged the pizzas for a delighted, blushing face and a ten-dollar tip. Apparently, she had been tied in a loose hogtie and had to escape as a young gay couple was watching. In total, it had taken her ten minutes to deliver the pizza.

“Had fun?”

“Yes! Very nice lads. They’ll send me the videos.”

“So you trust those strangers completely?” I inquired.

“Not completely. But more than the average guy after a first date. You being here helps a lot. Someone is vouching for them.”

“You’re welcome, but I’m as clueless about what’s going on.”

Back at the Maiden, we loaded up another fresh batch of pizza goodness before heading off. Our third customer had put the delivery girl’s underwear in the special requests, and poor Riley also had to handle this delivery. Miriam had given me a towel for her to sit on in the car so it would not end there. Indeed, after the fourth delivery, the top buttons of her shirt were missing, showing off some cleavage and black rope around her breasts. A black face mask hid her mouth in which a ball gag rested, judging by her high-pitched sounds.

“One piece of advice. Knock on the correct door,” I told Riley before the sixth delivery, somewhere in a suburban neighborhood where all houses seemed identical.

Riley shrugged, but from the car, I could see her double-check before ringing the bell. She entered the home and had to endure a quick photo shoot where she was forced into a strappado. For whatever reason, she also returned barefoot. Another button from her shirt was missing, and a collar was pad-locked around her neck that barely could pass as a choker.

Number seven was even worse for Riley. We stopped at a large, old house that I recognized. I had dropped off one of the Maiden’s waitresses once after a long evening. Inside, Riley had to compete with a girl in a game of tug of war: Their bodies were saran-wrapped against each other, and they had to pull away in opposite directions. Riley won, and her reward was to spank the other girl instead of being spanked by her.

“You are still okay with this?” I asked Riley. Miriam secretly texted me the dares planned for my manager.

She nodded and gave me a hug. Despite having far more embarrassing dares, Riley was far more confident. She trusted the process and got nice and kind reactions (and decent tips).

Delivery eight was in a quiet neighborhood for one of the wealthy patrons of the Maiden. Riley was lucky it was nearing ten and getting dark because these people were cruel. Riley was tied in their shower and hosed down with cold water until she was completely soaked. Luckily for my car, they dried her before returning the nude woman wearing nothing but a rope harness, collar, ball gag, face mask, and cap. She used the towel to cover herself while driving to the second-to-last delivery.

Confident and unashamed of her nude body, she rang the bell and handed the pizzas. Compared to the last few deliveries, it was quick because they only locked chains to the woman with the strawberry-blonde hair. Her ankles were less than a foot apart, her thighs less than an inch, and her wrists were behind her back.

“You look good, Riley. Much better than those work clothes,” I joked when she was back in the car. I covered her using the towel and used the collar to hold it like a bib. We drove to the last address as I played loud, obnoxious music from the nineties on full volume. I shook my head when we got close. I recognized the street that was by far the furthest from the city center. Here, hidden in the forest and hills, mansions and farms covered the landscape. In one, I had been dressed as a prisoner, humiliated, tied up, and almost drowned. We had to deliver there. Cecilia and Ambrose were hungry.

I parked at the end of the driveway to spare Riley from shuffling the entire path to the manor while carrying two pizzas behind her back. She got up the stone steps and knocked on the door with her knee. It opened, and she was let inside. Three minutes later, I got a text from Cecilia.

Riley agreed to spend the night at the last location. You can go home or back to the Maiden. Have a wonderful night, and thank you very much!

I rather let my interest in this magnificent story lapse. Wasn't i the idiot, eh? Needless to say i've put that mistake right now, at last!

LunaDog wrote: 3 months ago I rather let my interest in this magnificent story lapse. Wasn't i the idiot, eh? Needless to say i've put that mistake right now, at last!

Many thanks for your kind words!

“See ya, Cy. Have a nice weekend, and I think we see each other again on Sunday,” Riley hummed as we grabbed our bags from the garden center’s backroom. She was still riding the pizza dare high, visible in her demeanor and cheerful posts on the dare website. Our day-shift colleagues walked out as Riley waited to say something to me. “Have you planned anything today?” She craved ropes and maybe something more.

“Sorry, I gotta go. I have something planned for tonight.”

“With him?”

“No, not today. I have a roommate interview tonight,” I replied. “And it seems a big improvement.”

Riley wished me good luck, even though I had not told her all the details. Yeah, she knew I was discontent with my current living situation, but not that I got this invitation due to my new connections.

In my car, I crawled out of my work clothes and put on a long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of pure white jeans dungarees. I was told to cover my ankles and wrists and not wear my Sunday clothes. Thus, I had to find something cute in my wardrobe that I did not love. I wiped away the neutral makeup I had worn all day and applied bright red lipstick, black mascara, and dark blue eye shadow. I brushed my shoulder-long blonde hair and reapplied the clips. After applying deodorant and cologne, I was ready.

The house was gorgeous, but I did not have high standards for accommodation as a student. Having a tiny backside patio to sit outside was already an upgrade. The fact that the joined semi-detached house faced a busy road and was squeezed between a car dealership and a beer brewery did not matter. The garden was as small as you would expect in a city but still secluded at the back. The place was further from the university and city center but closer to the Tangled Maiden and Gregory. What mattered more to me were potential housemates.

“Hey Cyan!” a girl with long, wavy, light-blonde hair shouted from the kitchen window when I left my car. I greeted her before entering the house.

The long dining table was already set for ten people. I already knew Gaia and Arwen from that intense garden party a while back. Catalina and Alejandra worked at the Maiden, but I had not spoken to them besides the usual customer-service worker interactions. Bree had taught the drawing class earlier this week, but she had only thanked me for volunteering. We had not talked much. I could not remember seeing Cassandra, Hope, Sujata, and Velvet , where the latter had beautiful blonde hair. Well, actually, the entire group together looked fit and young, but unlike your typical Hollywood sorority, Cassandra and Hope dressed in black plastic fetish dresses and bore tattoos on their arms. I had heard all were either in their last years of college or the first years of their working life.

“Let me quickly show you around before dinner,” Sujata, a small girl with a knee-long black braid, told me.

“But not like that,” Hope laughed. “Turn around, Cyan.” She tied a rope around my wrists, and it was clear she had done this a hundred times already. My elbows followed, but Hope was kind enough to not force them to touch behind my back.

Then Sujata took me for a tour, and Catalina and Arwen joined us. The walls between the two houses had been completely removed, creating a big kitchen and dining room and an enormous living room with a huge U-shaped sofa, a TV, and cupboards filled with board games and unmarked black boxes. Upstairs were five bedrooms: four lovely single ones and a master bedroom Velvet and Alejandra shared. The four other bedrooms were in the attic and felt smaller due to the slanted roof. “It’s actually not too shabby,” Catalina remarked. “You get used to it quickly, and it does not get super warm in the summer as you notice.”

Everything looked lovely for a student home. It was modern, clean, and polished. The house was much busier than I was used to and not that gigantic when you lived there with nine others. The room I was interviewing for was the smallest in the attic, but my current room was even smaller.

Back downstairs, three girls escorted me to the table and tied me to the wooden chair as others put the food on the table: a vegetarian pasta with tortellini and a meaty one with tomato and spaghetti. Cassandra and Velvet sat down to my sides.

“Are you huuuungry?” Velvet asked in a very catty, demeaning voice as she tied a long bib over my chest.

Then, I realized this would be more than a tied-up interview. These girls wanted to test my personality. I was told they were looking for a new sub in the house to have a healthy balance between dominants, switches, and submissives. Moreover, they wanted someone willing to work with everyone else and with multiple people simultaneously.

Or, well, maybe I should explain the concept of the all-female house. The home was (of course) owned by one of the wealthy anonymous founders of the Tangled Maiden. It started as affordable housing for young female employees in a bad housing market, where they freely and safely could explore their kinks. Indeed, the rent would be half of my tiny, old, awfully isolated room. It had created a close-knit group that shared dinners, watched movies and series, played board games, and did bondage. There would be rules for the subs to follow, punishments for messing up or losing games, and impromptu bondage. I was told everything was personalized and in consultation. Moreover, everyone took care of the house together. Thus, contrary to my awful previous relationship, everyone was responsible alone for cleaning, cooking, and creating fun. It would be a perfect home for my last year in college.

Thus, I had to appear laid-back, enthusiastic, and willing to play their games. I decided to ignore the taunts stone-faced. “Could I get some of these tortellini?”

Velvet filled my plate, and the portion was at least 50% larger than usual.

“So, Cyan. What do you reckon? Do you like the place?” Arwen inquired. I had not spoken with her since the garden party.

“It seems amazing. The rooms are small but cute. Everything is modern and well-maintained. I like it.”

“And as a place to live? Could you envision yourself living here?” Gaia asked. “I mean, getting tied up all the time and living with us.”

Annoying questions. “I don’t know you well, but the vibes are good. I have lived with a boyfriend who tied me regularly, so I can handle that part. Doing that in a larger group seems even better. A social house is great.”

“So how used are you to bondage? What is the longest time you have been tied?”

I glanced down as I saw the others eating. My arms were still tied behind my back. “Hard to quantify. I have had my legs cuffed for an entire weekend and my wrists for a similar period. But would you call that bondage? It’s more of a minor handicap. I had been tied up all night inescapably and also forced to stand on my feet the entire night. It’s hard to quantify how severe these things are, and I would not claim they are earth-shattering or extreme. But I spent quite some time in bondage.” It was hard to know what they wanted to hear. “By the way, could someone help me eat?”

“I thought you would never ask,” Cassandra smirked. She grabbed one of the large serving spoons, stuck it in my plate, and scooped more than a mouthful of burning-hot cheesy spinach pasta between my jaws. I almost gagged, and only a few sputters of sauce ended on my bib.

I blushed as I made eye contact with Arwen, who seemed unfazed. “Serious question. We care about our privacy here and play outside the bedrooms. Thus, you need everyone’s permission to invite anyone over. Would that be fine with you?” I agreed to that. In my tiny apartment, there had been little space to have people over. “You have your blog where you publicly discuss many kinky things, including things that happen at the Maiden, that drawing class, and the garden party. How would you continue that when living here?”

That was my weak point. I often got such questions at the Maiden. Oh, and it is still taboo to be a sugar baby, although I would not be surprised if some in this house earned money similarly. And everyone at best knew me barely.

It appears to be great.

GreyLord wrote: 2 months ago It appears to be great.

A motion that i'm only too happy to second.

“Cyan, please don’t sit down and stand in the middle,” Hope directed me after dinner. My nine potential roommates nestled on the large U-shaped couch. “As we all know, Cyan, you like your bondage and BDSM combined with a sprinkle of embarrassment, especially in the form of dares. So that’s what we are going to do tonight. We will play truth and dare, but all the dares are predetermined, and you are the only person doing them.”

Velvet handed me nine white, indistinguishable envelopes.

“Each envelope holds a single challenge for you. Push yourself. Challenge yourself. But if you don’t want to do something, skip it. We don’t judge. Pick your own limits.”

Of course, they were judging me. That was the game. They were in a position of power (would they take me in as a roommate?) while I stood in front of them alone. I shuffled the envelopes and picked one at random.

Do a sexy striptease lasting at least five minutes while using the pole and the items from the red box.

I flushed already before reading the prompt out loud. Velvet handed me a box with fetish gear. Cassandra and Alejandra fetched a metal pole, fixed it on the coffee table, and fastened it to the ceiling. It was almost unsurprising to me that the hidden compartment in the middle of the coffee table was designed to hold a stripper pole.

“Ready, Cy?”

I was not. I had gone clubbing a few times but preferred bars and house parties. I disliked the loud music, hot environment, and expensive drinks. During parties or clubbing, I was not super outgoing and not the person going home with a stranger or flashing the cab driver. Apart from shooting clips for dares, I had not practiced twerking nor performed any lap dances. Due to my dares, I often considered myself a sexual deviant but was anything but a nymphomaniac in many aspects. The build-up to my dares is more important than the actual execution.

Cassandra started the slow and sensual music, so I let my body follow the rhythm. I locked eyes with Bree, shaking my hair and smiling like a stripper trying to extract money. I spun around and bent over. Half twerking, I undid the two straps of my white dungarees. There was a reason no one used them for stripping. I sat down on Catalina’s lap before lowering the dungarees. Why had I chosen some unflattering white panties today? Why did I fail to predict something like this would happen?

And what was I doing anyway? I returned to the coffee table and swung my body around the pole, surprised at how smooth it turned. I had never touched one before. I kicked my shoes off and humped the pole, and continued to strip. My movements ranged from graceful to amateurish, but my audience loved it and cheered me on. Me fighting through the nerves and incompetence made it hopefully entertaining enough to watch. Or, well, at least I attempted a slut drop in just my worn-out white panties.

When I was nude in front of these strangers and potential housemates. I opened the red box, finding metal handcuffs, a black ballgag, and a black strap of fabric that was meant to blindfold somebody. I took everything out, swinging it around like a helicopter. I clicked the cuffs around my ankles. I stood against the pole with the ankle cuffs around while unable to shuffle away. I put the gag between my jaws and the blindfold over my eyes before finally locking the cuffs behind my back and the pole. I was stuck. I had no key.

I got polite applause for my mediocre performance as I stood nude, bound, gagged, and blinded in front of them.

“That’s only four minutes and three seconds, Cyan,” Hope spoke. “That’s less than five minutes.”

“And it was not very smooth,” Sujata added.

“But it’s a passing grade,” Gaia concluded. “You can take your next challenge.”

The girls let me hang for a moment before bursting out laughing. I was nude, cuffed, gagged, and blindfolded. Alejandra freed me and allowed me to put my panties back on before I opened the next envelope. It contained two pieces of paper. I read the first. What are your top 3 people in this house you want to be close with?

“Uhhh, Gaia, Arwen, and Hope. In that order,” I replied a bit too fast. I would be screwed over anyways, so I blurted something out. The girls smirked as they allowed me to read the second piece of paper. Yeah, it had been an illusion of choice. I had to put Gaia’s panties and Arwen’s pink ankle socks in my mouth. They got taped inside while Hope’s long black sock was taped over my nose. It is not truly necessary to describe the smell and taste. It was disgusting.

Next, the girls roped my legs together and my arms behind my back before pulling me on four of them on the couch. I had to endure three minutes of tickling. Three minutes can pass by in an instant when doomscrolling or in bed in the morning, but three minutes of tickling is a long time when gagged with something that disgusting. I was not tied completely. With my limbs rendered useless and all the girls surrounding me, my squeals could not help me. It was suffering, but I passed the test. I did not tap out.

Share your last five private chats.

I disliked the dare. My last chats were with a college friend, my manager Riley (who was still emotional about the pizza dare), Gaia to arrange the interview, my mother, and Gregory. Some of these chats contained very private thoughts and naughty comments.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do this,” I replied, and the nine wine-sipping women nodded. I was unsure whether they respected I did not sell out or deemed it weak.

For my fourth dare, I had to do a few karaoke songs created by an AI that contained not-so-innocent lyrics. For my fourth dare, I had to role-play as a dog, which was another first and hopefully last. I liked being called a “good girl”, the bondage mitts, the leash, and the dehumanization, but the entire context weirded me out. I could not wrap my head around sexuality and animals. For dare number 7, I had to stand naked in a corner, pressing a penny against the wall with my nose. It was dull but quite challenging as the girls kept talking about the previous dares and my reactions.

Dare number 8 was very complicated, involving rolling dice and me making bets. I loved it. I had to make awkward decisions, estimate probabilities, and try to come up with a strategy. I ended up kissing Sujata’s bottoms, doing three more vodka shots, and promising I would spend the night in bondage in the house.

So it was time for the last dare. And now you expect it to build up to something big, are you not? Well, it was fine. Three of the girls wore strapons, which they covered with whipped cream, which I had to suck off. As I said, it was a fine dare, but I was getting tired and hoped for a big splash for the ending. I did it without much thought. When drawing the dares in a random order, that is what can happen.

With the dares completed, some hours remained in the evening. This allowed me to study the house dynamics more closely. Arwen, Bree, and Sujata left to play a board game in the dining room. Meanwhile, Cassandra, Alejandra, and Hope rounded up Gaia, Catalina, Velvet, and myself. They put us into loose hogties and blindfolded us with thin hoods. Laid on the ground, the trio tied an inch-thick rope between the wrists of me and Gaia, and a similar one between Catalina and Velvet. A complicated but loose knot between these two thick ropes caused complications.

It was a fun problem to work together to undo this knot. We could talk but not see, and the hogties limited our mobility severely. I still only wore my white panties, but the other girls were still fully clothed. It took us maybe 20 minutes, and despite my love for dares, I liked the simple bondage and cooperative challenge. It allowed me to bond with these girls instead of feeling like an outlier.

All good things have to end, and around eleven, the first woman made their way to bed. I was not drunk or even tipsy, but I had had enough to discourage me from driving home. Thus, I had to keep my promise of staying the night. Alejandra, Cassandra, and Hope exchanged ominous smiles before leading me into the hallway. I had assumed we would go to a bedroom, but they led me down into a basement that had not been included in the tour.

During the dares, this had been the place the girls had gone to collect more gear, as there were dozens of boxes with labels ranging from “Red polyester rope”, “6 mm chains”, and “rags” to “whips, etc.”. I could see camping gear, wooden boards that could be combined like Lego, and steel pipes. I had seen quite some bondage collections at the Maiden and Gregory’s house, but it still surprised me. The floor was concrete but covered by foam mats, and the ceiling was white. There were various kinds of lighting, ranging from red spotlights to fluorescent tubes. In a corner stood an unassuming box covered by a white sheet.

They allowed me to take in the view before Hope pulled the white sheet away, revealing a black cage with thick black bars and chicken wire one cannot stick even their pinky finger through. It was five feet long, three feet wide, and three feet high. In the middle sat a girl, nude from the neck down. A metal box was locked around her head, and her wrists were cuffed to its side. Hence, she could not lie down or rest her head against the side of the cage.

She was not one of the girls I had already met, so she had been there the whole time. I assumed that during the evening, people kept checking in on her and changing the bondage. She had to be the girl for whose room I was interviewing.

“Ready for bed, Gabi?” Alejandra coed.

“Yes, mistress,” the girl replied defeatedly before Alejandra threw her over her shoulder and carried her upstairs.

“You seemed to like that betting dare, so let’s turn this night into one as well,” Hope said, pointing at a big red button in the cage. “You see that button? It’s connected to at least three phones in this house. Press it, and we’ll free you as soon as possible.”

Cassandra gave me three dies, which I rolled on the table without being allowed to see the result. I would have to spend as many hours in the cage as the sum of the three die. Thus, I had to be inside between three and 18 hours. However, no one would warn me about the time or the sum of the dies. I had to press the button when I wanted to get out.

It was a mind game.

It's been a while, but it was a wait well worth it. Superb as ever!