Stories of Tie Up Games

Chapter 19: Tying Up You and Taylor Too
Monday, July 6, 2015

This one is going to be so busy that I’m skipping the interludes for this one chapter. The day was off to a fun start with my dear Ashley wearing a stars-and-stripes bandana headband for the final day of Best Buy’s 4th of July sale. She found all these ways so she could still wear her bandanas even at work, and she always looked adorable in them as well.

Taylor Zawislak had been released on the 4th as well and gone home to her family, who received her in love and support and forgave her for her indiscretions because of her true sorrow. I had to admit to Kylie I was jealous since she could relate to Taylor’s warm reception. Similarly I felt a little sorrow for myself, Hannah Jones, Mary-Ann, Kendra and our podmate Jacqueline Martin as we all exited juvie to no family. M.A. was initially homeless and finally settled with her cousin; Jackie moved in with cousins who were willing to give her a chance; Kendra was tortured while still having many, many extended relations. Hannah and Hannah had no one, not even cousins.

Hannah fit into the Palmeri house well, but she was scared. After my meltdown the first day in her new home, she’d spent two days more or less hiding from everyone, but that Luisa struck as she always does, sweetly working her way into the bedroom and convincing Hannah to go mass with her and Michela on Friday and with us all as a family on Sunday despite the misgivings she had thanks to her Protestant upbringing. She had taken a liking to Casey’s style of bandanas and hoodies in a similar manner, although Hannah had her own way expressing it.

Taylor was already settled into her new life as a convicted felon who bore a badge of shame that would torment her the rest of her life. Hannah was adjusting to her new life with much fear and a quiet hope that her family would give her the second chance she deserved. Together, the four of us girls I just discussed were going to Tied After Class to shoot a scene with Ashley and for Taylor and Hannah to make their bondage modeling debuts with two sets for each girl. There was the depression of a new life without the rigor and certainty of prison though.

Taylor looked hot and ready to tie up in her three-quarter legged jeans and a white tank top; only the accident with a bottle of hair dye elicited any response from me. Ashley and I traveled to our second job in our work clothes, and I admit I’d joined the bandana train using a solid blue one to get mine by the censors. Hannah had a purple soft cotton knee skirt, a purple bandana headband, her black hoodie jacket, and a white sleeveless t-shirt.

“Are you scared, nervous, curious, excited?” I asked my friends.
“I’m curious now,” Ashley admitted, “I wasn’t mentally ready for my first shoot.”
“I’m a little nervous,” Taylor laughed a little bit, “I’ve only been tied up once before.”
“Care to share?” I asked to make her feel comfortable.
“Oh, it was a game of cops and robbers with my brothers, but they were boy scouts and good.”
“I’m actually excited,” Hannah responded, “To explore my newfound liberty via captivity.”

Hannah and Taylor saw all the moral quandaries of bondage modeling, but they respectively had reconciled it by seeing it as a captor-captive fascination game and by seeing it as mutually shared kink. Hannah’s explanation was easier since she had a strict no-tit-exposure policy while Taylor was trying to reconcile it in line with stereotypical Roman Catholic Polish lines. It helped that I had been tied up by Michela yesterday with Michela then convincing Hannah to try it to be sure she wanted to do this shoot today. As you’ve seen in The Pirate Queens if you’re reading that story, both became regular bondagettes that partook in many bondage scenes.

Taylor looked around with mixed surprise and curiosity. Part of her was ready to try this, and a small part of her still only knew damsel-in-distress to mean a drug dealer in handcuffs. Was it a setup that led to her arrest? She didn’t know and didn’t care to know. While Taylor filled out the paperwork with my assistance, Hannah and Ashley went down to the basement to pick out their first outfits of the day. We were doing two scenes for each girl if possible. Once we were all in our “first scene” outfits, Taylor spoke for herself in a clear and kind manner.

“Since Julia Pulaski has the baggage and uncertainty, may I go first. Ashley, please?”
“Julia Pulaski? How apropos,” Ashley smiled warmly and acquiesced, “Yes, you will go first.”
“I like that name. Julia sounds good for you,” I contemplated the name, “Why is it familiar?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she giggled a little bit, “It’s my middle name.”
“All right, then, my Polish beauty. You know my mother was Polish?” Ashley asked her.
“Ash, I love you, and you won me back to Catholicism. Still, I’m not your beauty. OK?”
“All right,” Ashley blushed and looked to me for help, “I’m still trying to accept myself.”

Denim miniskirt, blue-and-white horizontally striped polo, white socks, and blue heels on Taylor Zawislak? Yes, please. That’s a hot outfit. Wrist and elbow bondage and the usual three bonds on her legs work nicely, and strips of gray tape are a classic gag for a debut photo-only scene. A hottie in distress can be found in the basement of Steve Moreau’s home! A white crate was put down on the floor of the cellar for Taylor to use as a chair.

Now, all Taylor had to do was pose for the camera and allow me to use those socks to gag Ashley when the scene was done. She really was pretty, bondage aside, and didn’t need to do this for an army of guys to train in behind her. Her experiences, however, left her with a bad taste of it all, and she is still only in the dating phase to this day. That said, her current boyfriend will someday be her husband; that much I’ll guarantee.

Taylor naturally looked around the room at her bonds while in each position, and she even began to wail into the gag without being asked. She conveyed the fear and anger very well while also striking each of the requested poses. She was genuinely determined to escape, and she looked so pitiful that even I wanted to go rescue her from her kidnapper Ashley, a.k.a. Genevieve Badeaux. A squeal saw Ashley quite happily roll up Taylor’s shirt to reveal a bra over big tits. How much the big captive girl wailed and cried for mercy, but mercy didn’t come!

When the heels came off, I saw feet that I knew Kendra would love. Too bad Kenny wasn’t here because she’d have too much helping me gag Ashley with those socks. Then it was tits out down here in the basement, my friends. Taylor Zawislak was a hottie in distress! Ashley was a bit too nonchalant about things, suggesting she wouldn’t be good at my job, but it was a good approach for films! Yes, you can see why Ashley became a star of motion bondage pictures. Taylor then worked the tape off her lips, much to our pleasant surprise and giving some more good shots.

“All right, it’s cute and all, but it’s strict. Can I go now?” she asked, “I promised two though.”
“Yes, I’ll untie you on one condition,” I negotiated with her, “Your socks become Ashley’s gag.”
“Take ‘em. I don’t care. Just untie me,” she groaned, “It’s like I’m in the prison truck again.”
“You don’t like it?” I asked her with concern for her well-being.
“I can do it for pay, but it’s not fun posing without some sort of real scene. It’s nice though to be beautiful and having my picture taken,” she then smiled, “I could do this regularly for the pay.”
“You keep doing scenes like this one, you’ll keep getting work,” Steve grinned, “Untie her.”



Ashley screwed up her face at the realization that we were talking about silencing her with socks that had been on Taylor’s feet for at least 30 minutes. She loved those gags, but we also had just seen her embarrassed when Taylor squelched the French girl’s lust. Maybe it was the fact that I just loved the garter she was wearing and was in a hurry to tie her up. Ashley and Michela were the only Cool Girls then and now who would wear garters for real let alone for scene work.

Look at those cheesecake shots! Ashley is so cute. The short hose, the tight garter, the tight blue jean miniskirt, and the unbuttoned polo is just quintessential bondage damsel Ashley. Wouldn't it be a shame if I… tied her up? Maybe I tied her wrists behind her back. Tied a nice harness. Put a pair of socks in her mouth and put red duct tape on her lips. Tied her legs in three places. How could I forget those open topped red heels?! Yes, folks, we have a hottie in distress in the cellar!

What's funniest is that this skirt is Ashley's own skirt. She was so cute posing for the photos, and I still feel honored to be one of her best friends. She looks scared, like a girl who really is down in a cellar for hostage photos. It's a good thing Michela and Kylie weren't here because they both would be all over her at the moment; I know what they like in a bound and gagged hottie. What I really appreciated was Ashley's transformation from a terrified young woman into a confident damsel in distress. She convincingly scowled for the camera upon request, and she embraced a genuine look of fear. This scene, though, was Taylor’s, and we’d see how she was on camera.

There aren't enough photos of Ashley bound and gagged for this world. Just watch her pose for a battery of photos. The red nail polish perfectly matched her gag despite being a hasty job she did in the car. Ashley posed for the camera, but we had to watch Miss Julia Pulaski make her video debut alongside Genevieve Badeaux. It was a cute situation, but did it have a cute costar playing the role of abductress? What kind of kidnapper would Julia Pulaski be?

“Mmmmmmm!” Ashley whined like a true damsel in distress.
“Hi there. Do you know who I am?” Taylor calmly walked up to Ashley to unbutton her shirt.
“Nmmm mmm,” of course Ashley didn't know.
“That strong man you love so much? Well, heh heh, I like him too, but I want him more!”
“Noooooo! Unhie -e -igh- -ow!” she cried, but it was tits out, my friends.
“I’ll be back with a rubber since that's the only d-ck you'll get!”
“Ah hate -ou!” Ashley snarled into Taylor's former socks.

Sexy, exposed Ashley now got to pose for more photos during a break in the action. Somehow, I loved that garter beyond all belief, but I realized Ashley was also 3 inches taller than me. I was not a garter girl, but I liked this one especially since the hose were so starkly contrasting her skin color. She looked so cute, and I wished Michela were here because she'd be so aroused by this. The chair was taken away, and Ashley was left squatting in the air.

With the chair removed, Ashley slowly collapsed to her knees while continuing to look as pitiful and deserving of mercy as possible. She briefly scowled for the camera, but this right her would one day be the quintessential Ashley the Seductress who would dress in this type of clothing, ask her boyfriend to tie her and gag her, and engage in beautiful romance. I can't say the same; with bondage, I can only handle romance from a woman. Thanks, Greg; I’m… glad… you're dead. I don't like saying that; it's so antithetical to my Roman Catholic beliefs.

Then Ashley was seated on her butt on the floor in perfect TAC style. She started sideways on her legs and gradually adjusted herself to a more typical sitting position. The fear in her eyes is always so genuine at these moments, and this moment was an example of that, solidifying herself as a girl who would get “regular work” from Steve and Marcy Moreau. She had the damsel role down perfectly and adorably. This day of production was still in the first half though.

A few more shots of Ashley tied up like this followed before Steve asked Taylor to untie Ashley and likewise directed us to get to work with sweet Miss Hannah Jones. Ashley added her usual adorable touch even when pulling the tape off her lips. These first two scenes had been absolute gems, and we could only hope for it to continue. There was cheesecake still to be served up!



The pale blue, and two sizes too small, blouse and the beige miniskirt looked wonderful on Miss Jones. The white hose she wore for the cheesecake shots were rejected by Steve, though, and he asked her to change into classic brown hose before putting the brown heels on her feet. Then, it was time to tie her up for her debut. She was tied up just like Ashley and gagged with strips of double-sided tape and an icy blue bandana OTM gag.

There’s a lot that could be said about the captivity, but there’s more to be said for Hannah Jones, a girl about whom I was mistaken. Her charges were given the maximum sentence, but none of them were felonies. I assumed they were felonies, but someone found a job she loved in a place with which the so-called “Bondagettes of Pod F” were very familiar: Teddy’s All-Day Breakfast. She ended up being a waitress in the restaurant that was the official meeting ground of us and all the friends who loved us in spite of our criminal pasts. Isn’t that beautiful in its own way?

Hannah carefully listened to all Steve requested and provided her own expression to the scene in an endearing way. She was disgusted that she had been taken captive and showed no fear. That she played her own part likely helped endear her to Steve. She has clear cut defiance toward her captor and desires to escape and punch her captor in the nose. Even when I took the chair away, I heard a slight grunt of defiance from Hannah, or Sarah Johnson.

Let’s pause a moment and talk about legs because Hannah’s legs were, and are, amazing. I wish I had legs like hers, and I happily drop her to the ground and pull off her heels. Through this, we discovered, or rather Steve discovered, that Hannah had a nice pair of feet. Through this began a journey that was unexpected: Hannah’s foot fetish that matched Kendra’s. Hannah, however, did like bondage in her own way that was between Kendra’s opinion and a typical Cool Girl’s. This opened up a lot of opportunities concerning feet in Hannah’s endeavors as a bondage model.

The best part is watching her pose for the photos and never letting go of that scowl that would be her signature trait in bondage. When on her knees, the tension she felt in her role was apparent; I was always amazed how some could be so engaged in their role when I struggled to keep reality and fantasy separate while shooting. Perhaps I had too much baggage weighing me down? We even put the shoeless Hannah back on the chair for a few more shots to show her shoeless in a few more positions, give a good glimpse of her legs, and enjoy her scowl some more. This had been a great set of scenes so far, and I could tell they would get better.

“Let’s get working on that second set for Ashley,” Steve motioned to me.
“You like feet, Steve? Like, you like feet like I like bondage?” I asked him candidly.
“Not like the serious people do. They’re fun, but it’s for the fans,” he nodded confidently.
“How did you like that, Hannah?” I asked the girl after removing her gag.
“Not bad. The tape worked to make sure that stayed in place,” she seemed to enjoy learning.
“All right, Hannah ELLLLLLL,” Steve then teased me, “Focus on the French girl.”
“Right! Sorry,” I went over to Ashley.
“But Meesterr Moreau,” Ashley said in her adorable accent, “I am not een lohve weet ‘err.”



She was in love with me as a friend, to be accurate. We were friends for life from the day I met her, and I’m proud to have been her housemate for a stretch of her life. She now had a charcoal gray miniskirt with a slight cut up the sides, brown pantyhose, gray heels, and a striped sweater in two complementing pinks. She knelt on the floor for cheesecake shots, and then it was time to tie her up! In case you cannot tell, I absolutely loved this job and found comfort in it then. I tied her the same as before, including the harness. A classy look for a classy girl. Double-sided tape and a green bandana OTM gag silenced her after I stuffed that initial pair of hose in her mouth.

Yeah, Ashley posed for the usual battery of photos, and that distinctive pitiful made appearances throughout the scene. She played the role straight even without their being film as she felt more “in” the role when she did that. Just as quickly, she was on the floor and rolling around for the camera. Then came the fun part: me dominating Ashley for a film. Roll ‘em!



“MMMMM!” Ashley wailed after three minutes of struggling.
“Hey!” I picked up one of her now long lost heels, “How you doing, friend?”
“MMMM! Unhie -e -ight -ow,” she cried out to me and look at her bonds.
“You listen to me, Missy,” I put the heel near her nose, “I’m in charge. Not you.”
“Ah -on’h hare. -ou unhie -e -ight -ow!” but I pushed the heel against her more forcefully, “-o!”
“Hey!” she kicked me forcefully so that I rolled away, “You’ll pay dearly for that.”
“Ah’m -uhn,” she said in her regular voice, “Unhie -e. Ah -ean ih,” she looked away from me.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I quickly removed the three layered gag, “Ashley, I’m sorry. What’s up?”
“The words ‘You’ll pay dearly’ was what my aunt would say to make me comply,” she cried.
“Awww, Ashley, I’m really sorry,” I wiped her tears with my fingers.
“Hannah, please hug me. I want Mama and Papa,” she lost it all right then.
“I remember,” Steve said thoughtfully, “Made national headlines. Sorry, Miss Calland.”
“You and Michela are such good people,” Taylor shook her head, “Unlike me.”
“Miss Jones? You’re up again,” Steve kept us moving, “Taylor, comfort. Hannah, bondage.”

Pretty impressive. Yummy cheesecake. She found a maroon long-sleeve version of the shirt Ashley wore in the first set and a darker denim skirt. The white knee socks reflected her foot prowess, and I tested her by stuffing a pair of clean ankle socks in her mouth under strips of duct tape. I tied her like Ashley but added a second rope on her thighs. Clothesline, sorry.

That scowl was awesome. It’s still awesome. She still scowls like this for a scene and is sweet in reality like she was then. There was plenty to love about her. I felt the pain she felt though; it was Hannah and Hannah alone in the world without even a cousin who loved them. We were the resilient girls with the same first names; resilience was a common theme among us girls. I had to learn to stop missing my parents because it turned out they never… loved me. Poor Hannah; she had such a good upbringing, and she wound up rejected at the first sign of trouble.

Taylor was raised in a standard Roman Catholic background, likely unaware that she’d attended the same church as Michela. Well, I knew that. We learned this fact in prison together; I always managed to encounter surprising new things starting with the prison phase of my life. I am still always learning new things that help me to better love and appreciate my friends.

Hannah was beautiful. She looked so convincing in her role, and I could see that Steve enjoyed her performance style as well. She kept her scowl even as I took the chair away first and then her heels second. I enjoyed the power, and the love that went with it, that came with the job. I was strangely happy. Yes, damsel-in-distress photography empowered me and made me happy.

“Hi, Sarah!” I casually sat down next to her after 4 minutes of filming, “How you doing?”
“Mmmphulll,” she responded while glaring at me, “Mm unna oo urth uh ou!”
“Aw, Sarah, I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” I hugged her and kissed her.
“Ah ohn’h! Ah anna oh hohe!” she yelled at me like I was the dumbest person ever.
“This is home. Here. In this basement. My personal plaything. Forever,” I kissed her again.
“NO NO NO!” she yelled some more, “Unhie -e! -IGHT -OW!”
“I love you so much,” I said as the camera faded out to end the film, “Besties forever!”
“NOOOOOOO!”
“You were wonderful, Hannah and Hannah,” Steve had a glowing smile, “Awesome job.”



It was back to the great upstairs for this final scene of a busy time of shooting scenes. A pleated thick pink miniskirt with pockets, a white tank top, and white knee socks were a great way to get the cheesecake going for Taylor on her second scene. What a hot seductress she was. It's not too surprising to say she's engaged; what's more impressive is that she's a virgin still at 27 years old.

Ever seen such hot cheesecake? Yes?! Where?! Oh, you mean me? Awwwww! Thank you! It is so kind of you! Taylor held the coil of rope like only a hottie could. She sat on the carpet such that… well… I wanted a piece of her just as badly as Ashley did. I never got it though, and once a few months passed I stopped desiring such things. It happens with the passage of time.

I did it again, binding Taylor's elbows as well as the clothesline allowed me along with her wrists and then binding her ankles, knees, and thighs. White heels shod her feet, and a big 2.5 inch blue ball gag filled her mouth almost to an uncomfortable extent. She took a seat on a sofa so that her hostage photos could be taken.

It did not take many photos for her shirt to get rolled up to reveal a white bra. I squeezed her tits to see how she would react, and she gave me a mischievous wink and a squirm. She didn't like a bondage scene, but she had her own kinks that would emerge in time. After she rolled her eyes enough times, she finally kicked her heels off. This hottie was a sweetie though.

Down to the floor with Taylor! See her panic and scowl! She was the real deal, and starring her in bondage productions was a brilliant decision on Steve’s part that saved her life in a big way as she was a felon like Kendra. She refused sexual deeds, but TAC, Tommy Trusser, and Mary-Ann all paid her for bondage services, and she and Hannah did other local fetish modeling, stuff with feet in particular. If she kept her clothes on, Hannah tried it; as long as nothing entered her butt or her p-ssy, Taylor tried it. Certainly better labor was available, but we were food at fetish stuff.

Like Taylor right now crying on the floor while struggling in tight bondage. It was when she got on her knees that Steve started a solo movie for Taylor, Julia Pulaski, to show off. For all of us, watching Taylor struggle for 10 minutes was a joy, and I sure hoped the customers felt the same way. With that film a busy afternoon of bondage production came to an end.



“Well, ladies, how was it? Was it like I said?” I asked them afterwards.
“That was a lot of work,” Taylor was doing a lot of stretching, “But it felt rewarding.”
“I can handle that gig if he's going to pay me that much per hour,” Hannah added.
“It was a successful day,” Ashley smiled and spoke for all four of us.

And then my phone rang with Tommy Trusser on the other end of the line.

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In Chapter 21, it’s time for Mary-Ann to introduce a friend to bondage modeling. Our old friend Jackie Martin will join the fray, and we’ll all get tied up once by each of the other two. Which gag will Jackie use on Mary-Ann?

(A) Matte red ball gag
(B) Microfoam tape gag
(C) Gray duct tape gag

C

C!!

B from me

Chapter 20: The Hotel
Friday, July 10, 2015

“Mrs. Palmeri,” I heard Hannah crying, “Thank you so much for taking me in.”
“It wasn't easy,” Mom responded, “but we're all glad we opened our home to both Hannah’s.”
“There's nothing like being wanted somewhere,” the sniffing was obvious.
“You're such a sweet young lady, just like Michela.”
“How will I ever repay you?”
“You gratitude is enough,” Mom said just as I entered the kitchen.
“Good morning, my friend,” I wrapped my arms around Hannah’s neck.

The pastel colors she favored in her bandanas gave her an unique niche. Hannah liked TUGs as well, and I promised her that she would get to meet the ultimate masters of love and friendship as best expressed in the game of TUGs. I speak, of course, of my friends Casey and Jenny. They're the best at this kind of thing, and we’ve all been too busy for it. Today the stars finally aligned in a conducive manner for. This chapter has three parts: breakfast with Hannah and Michela, hotel scenes with Tommy Trusser, and visiting the CGC so Hannah could meet them and play TUGs.

As I said, pastels were Hannah’s niche; pink was already featured. Today, yellow was her choice. She was a wonderful person, but she had a thing that made me struggle to appreciate her as much as I should. She was raised as a Baptist, and she had Baptist’s sentiments on lesbianism. She didn't hide her feelings, and she echoed Michela’s. I’d be a total liar if I didn't say I wanted to resent her when I couldn't control my attraction, but Michela had more self control than I. It was out of my control that she was irresistible to me… But I could resist the desire to act on it.

“Hannah,” Michela reminded me, “You need to stop being so selfish.”
“I was raised to be selfish. I don't know how to break the cycle,” I admitted to my shame.
“Have you ever tried asking God to help you in your struggles?” Hannah asked me.
“Of course not. It's only recently I even accepted that God might be real.”
“Hannah,” Miss Jones smiled at me, “Our friendship is one of God’s blessings in our lives.”
“Me? A blessing?” I looked at her and started crying, “Hannah, you're so sweet.”

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Interlude #86: The Girl Who Prayed in Doubt
Tuesday, January 14, 2014

“Dear God, why did I…?” I heard come from the cell behind me while I was playing a game.
“Your turn,” I pointed to Bridget Anderson.
“If you’re real, why did you let me do it? But… if you weren’t real, I wouldn’t have run.”

I listened to her simple, pious prayer and wondered what gave her such confidence to say that to God. Seriously, I figured if I believed He was omnipotent, then I wouldn’t push any of His buttons like that. I’d be scared of Him. I’ll never forget Luisa giggling when I told her I was too scared to ask God for something and giving me a cheerful explanation of things in a way that I’d understand. Seeing Hannah kneeling like that made me realize that even people with faith have a moment of doubt every so often. Hannah loved Him that much though.

The realization that came later made what Hannah said then make sense. That someone had tried to take advantage of her explained the panic, and drunkenness explained the bad driving. Still, I couldn’t fathom praying for faith when in doubt of His very existence. This paradox puzzled me for years, and it’s still a point that flusters me even as a mother and wife who has faith. Bearing children was a dream that became unfathomable to me after what Greg did and again became a dream. I had a dream, lost it in doubt, and got it back, just like Hannah got her faith back.

“Your turn, Hannah,” one of my playmates ended my daydream, a typical flaw of mine.

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“Tommy Trusser, good to see you again,” I shook his hand and pointed to my friends.
“Ah, good to have you back,” he shook Michela’s hand, “I’m sorry. I forgot your name.”
“Michela,” she blushed a little and stepped aside, “And this is my other friend Hannah Jones.”
“Nice to meet you, Hannah,” he then shook Hannah’s hand as well, “Coming to watch.”
“I do a little modeling of my own…,” she admitted timidly, “But not today.”
“No pressure. If you ever want to do it, tell Hannah or tell me directly although I’ll ask just in case you change your mind about things.”

I was told to put on a pair of blue jeans, keep my black canvas sneakers, and add a black graphic t-shirt after all the usual paperwork was filed. Then came the fun of posing for pictures while I posed on the sofa, sitting, standing, and even getting on my knees and facing the wall. There is a lot of fun in posing and getting to just act like a kinky girl about to get into a kinky situation. It’s easy to smile in these circumstances.

I was given a simple white rope bondage with ropes binding my ankles, thighs, wrists, and chest. A simple red bandana cleave gag finished it off, and then it was time for more pictures. There’s a lot of work in posing and holding the pose long enough for the perfect shot to be taken. It will often take 2-5 tries before the photographer is satisfied, and others are one-shot wonders.

“Hannah, turn sideways,” so I turned sideways for a couple of pictures.
“Twist your arms like you’re looking at the bonds,” so I twisted my arms in front of my stomach.

You get the idea. It wasn’t hard work, but it was tiresome. I enjoyed having my picture taken in this context unlike the photos taken of me by the police and Mudville Juvie and better known as a mugshot. The CGC instilled a love of bondage photography in me long before I knew it was a real thing. There was something arousing about a camera being on me.



I could see a genuine curiosity in Hannah’s face. She wasn’t thinking about the photography but about the actual binding. She was thinking about bondage itself, but what was she thinking? On the other hand, Michela’s eyes had glazed over while Tommy was tying me up, and she seemed to be triggered. Her fingers were interlocked in front of her, and she looked down at the carpet a lot of the time. She also kept adjusting her skirt. That told me she indeed was in that basement.

Hannah turned, saw Michela’s mannerisms, and studied them with confusion written on her face. She hadn’t seen Michela in a full trigger, and I felt a bit helpless. Fortunately, Tommy untied me right then, and I was able to go over to my girlfriend and give her a reassuring kiss on the lips. It didn’t bother me, at the time, that Hannah turned away; that would settle within me afterwards. I only cared that the glaze disappeared and the confidence returned. We erotically embraced.

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Interlude #87: The Girl Who Prayed in Sorrow
Wednesday, January 15, 2014

“I’m such a failure, Lord. I don’t deserve anything except to be struck by lightning. My family hates me, and my friends have abandoned me. Why must I be alone in this world now? There’s a void within me; please fill it. You’re there, right?”

Aha! I thought to myself, She’s finally getting some sense in her religious silliness.

“I’m trusting You, because You love me,” she meekly spoke, “I trust You will take my mistake and help me find equivalent or greater blessings from it if I have faith and faithfully serve You. You’ve never failed me before, and I know that somehow something amazing will come from it.”

She turned and burst my bubble. Just when I thought she was getting smarter, she turned around and made a monkey out of me. Destiny saw my frustration and shook her head in disapproval. I could not say how much prison was changing this big-titted girl from Newark, but she’d become a different person in here while most of us remained ourselves in a transformational manner. The horrors that led to changes in me, Kendra, Mary-Ann, and Kylie didn’t afflict the others since our dear friend Mr. Reardon left Mudville Juvie in January 2013, long before girls like Destiny were incarcerated. We were the unlucky ones, but I could see a softening of Destiny, a desire to leave the past behind. She’d beaten people, terrorized others, and even committed arson, but she was able to let go of the past unlike me. Everyone here except me seemed to be able to soften some part of their hearts! What was wrong with me that I couldn’t do so and continued my arrogance?

I still don’t know except that I purposely hardened my heart. Kylie and I went from teens who had to learn a hard lesson to scared girls who’d been repeatedly molested. No wonder both of us exited here with an interest in girls, and Kylie’s even developed into an interest focused on TUGs and related scenarios. No matter what it may be, prison changes you. It’s a matter of learning to leave behind the criminal lifestyle and to improve yourself as a person. In my case, both lessons had to wait longer. For Hannah, Kylie, and Destiny, both happened; in Kendra’s case, the former happened; in Mary-Ann’s case, the latter happened. We all learned both lessons with time.

“Girl, I like your style,” Destiny motioned for Hannah Jones to come over, “Talk to me.”

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“Mmmmmmm!” the white ball gag filled my mouth.

This scene was simple, although I now was dressed very differently with a black evening dress that had a woefully short skirt, perfect to make Michela’s eyes pop out of her head and to get her thinking dirty thoughts about me. She bound me upon my request, further arousing her. What a lucky girl I was to have her as my best friend and lover.

I loved wearing dresses for scenes more back then than I do now. Now, I wear them outside my labors instead. It’s amazing how far I’ve come from a drug dealer to a desperate bondage model to a college student and, eventually, to a cop. At the time, we’d all have laughed if you told me I would one day be a guard in Pod F of the Mudville Juvie.

My black open-topped strap-on heels were a lovely match for the outfit, and I had black panties but no bra. Oh, yeah, this scene was really naughty, and the white ropes bound me just as in the first scene. This time, however, Michela got to have fun; she got to walk up to me while I cried and wailed into the ball gag and to pull the straps of the dress down my arms. It was tits out, my friends. It was obvious that she was extremely aroused because she fondled me and kissed me. I noticed an uncomfortable squirm in Hannah’s movements, but the love still glowed in her eyes. I would call it her moment of quiet acceptance of our open lesbian relationship.

Sitting on the couch in a hotel room to be bound and gagged and then repeating the deed but only on the bed brought an unique thrill to things. I didn’t realize just how much fun one could have even while working. I’d had lots of fun at Steve and Marcy’s, but I didn’t appreciate it as much as I thought I did until then. There was still a lot of work, but I loved it so much.

“Mmmmmmm!” I groaned into the ball gag, causing myself to drool.
“That’s it,” Michela, upon request, walked over to me and fondled me.
“UNNNN!” I pulled myself away from her as if I hadn’t just enjoyed that immensely.

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Interlude #88: The Girl Who Prayed in Gratitude
Friday, January 17, 2014

“Dear God, thank you for giving me new friends who don’t hate me for my mistakes.”

I didn’t understand why, but Hannah was comfortable praying in front of me and Michela. She had no one who loved her like we did, and this was a way for a still terrified and quite reclusive girl to show some love and trust. Hannah wasn’t a girl who was openly affectionate like Michela or me. She smiled at me after saying those words, words that charged my agnosticism a little.

“You know, a prayer like that…,” I started to be a bit of an arrogant jerk about religion.
“Really stirs our hearts,” Michela said to her, “You’ll be Catholic someday. I know it.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Hannah responded, “Maybe in 17 months I’ll feel differently about it.”
“That’s still someday,” Michela reminded her with a cheesy grin despite her glazed eyes.
“Michela, have you ever thanked God for delivering you from your father?”
“Every day. Doesn’t stop me from wondering why Daddy hurt me though.”

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“Where’s Gangsta Princess?” I asked Casey when I walked into the house.
“Not here yet. This is the sweet Hannah Jones?” my friend asked me in earnest.
“Yeah, this is her,” I smiled, “In the flesh. The same girl to whom you gave your clothes.”
“Like you didn’t visit me enough times,” Hannah hugged Casey to begin their new friendship.
“Before Jenny’s here… I don’t know if you knew this, but,” Casey laughed, “I was adopted.”
“Wow! Wouldn’t know it. That’s good. Really good,” Michela’s eyes sparkled at that thought.

Since Hannah and Michela were the ones that were going to be bound and gagged, it is time to tell you how they were dressed. Hannah had the pastel yellow I mentioned as a knee skirt and as a bandana headband. She wore plain white socks and pink canvas sneakers with a pink t-shirt. I wanted to hump Michela really badly; she was wearing her pink tight-fitting mini skirt, a cream button-up three-quarter sleeve blouse, and a matching pink bandana headband. Pink socks and a pair of cream pumps rounded out her cute outfit. How lovely she was in contrast to the frumpy gym shorts and matching hoodies Casey and I wore.

Casey’s house was a place a girl felt welcome and wanted. It was home to all. As long as we all heeded the house rules, we were even free to play TUGs in this place. It’s incorrect to think that meant the Clark’s were more open-minded. They were as morally uptight as Miss Jones, but the love overwhelmed any other sensibilities they may have harbored. Michela and I were welcome as a couple so long as we weren’t fornicating or kissing. It was quite the dynamic that made me feel comfortable here. Adding to things was the entrance of that bouncy rope bunny, Jenny.

“Hey, Hannah Bandana!” she jumped into my arms for a breath-taking hug and a kiss.
“Sweet Gangsta Princess!” I returned the gestures, and she repeated her greeting on Michela.
“Be careful. I like when girls kiss me and might steal you for the afternoon,” my lover joked.
“Like you would ever,” Jenny bounced to Casey next, and finally Hannah, “You’re different.”
“Oh, am I?” Hannah more awkwardly greeted a stranger and shifted her eyes away, “How?”
“You’re writing a new chapter like prison never happened while Hannah and Michela almost meditate on prison and its impact on their lives every single day,” she looked at us with love.
“Jenny!” I gasped, “I’ve never thought of it that way. You’re completely right!”
“Hannah Bandana, we’re so happy to have you back in our lives!”
“Sorry to interrupt!” Michela also gasped, “Destiny’s getting sprung August 1st!”

Two wonderful revelations which we all could celebrate happened back to back! How little I knew that she was making plans on starting at the University of Minnesota this semester. Soon, a group was going to spring up… Casey, Hannah Jones, Destiny, Kylie, Jackie, and Felice… all girls who rose above their pasts just like Michela and I and who attended that particular college. We didn’t know that there would be a group called “TIE” in our lives… That’s for much later in this story, but we will eventually get to it.

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Interlude #89: The Girl Who Prayed in Repentance
Wednesday, January 22, 2014

“Lord, I’m finally ready to say… I’m sorry I made you sad. Thank You for dying for me.”

Hannah said this while gazing out a window on a cold winter’s night. She said the words with a feeling I couldn’t appreciate but which brought tears to Ashley’s eyes. Madison could feel those same feelings of love and peace that Michela could feel emanating from Hannah, but like Kylie Madison Hill maintained her agnosticism even after prison and after watching my conversion to the faith that I once mocked and refused to believe was for anyone but mental midgets. Destiny made the sign of the cross, but it’d be six months, she admitted, before she did that again. “Once a superstitious Papist, always a superstitious Papist” was how I figured it worked.

Hannah, Destiny, Taylor, Madison, Mackenzie… were just as special as Felice, Jackie, Kendra, Mary-Ann, Brooke, and Bridget even if they didn’t get to overlap with all of those girls. There were going to be six families in my life someday even if I didn’t see it then: my grandmother, the CGC, the Tau Iota Epsilon bondage sorority at Minnesota Tech, my prison friends, the Palmeri’s, and my own family with my husband with whom I would have children. All mean something to me that I cannot put into words, and I cherish each of them in their own ways. Sharing many of those with Hannah was going to bring unspeakable happiness into my sullen, dark life.

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“Mmmmmmmm,” Hannah sucked on Casey’s socks with delight in her eyes.
“Hmph!” Michela scolded the rest of us while sucking on Jenny’s socks.
“Well, well, that was deeply satisfying,” Jenny sat down between them to pose for photos.
“Well, my dear, you got what you asked for. How is it?”
“Mmph!” she playfully but haughtily turned her head away from us.

As it turned out, Hannah and Casey were one of a kind in TUGs. They both forbade nudity and loved a dirty sock gag. Nothing dirtier than a teasing squeeze of the breasts was allowed. Crotch ropes were forbidden, although Hannah would occasionally permit those during scene work. In a friendly game of TUGs, they were a no-no. Hannah was practically the little sister Casey wanted and never had. There actually was enough of an age gap between Casey and Hannah for them to be sisters.

Both girls were tied the same, with their wrists crossed behind their backs, a waist rope (Michela with a crotch rope), a harness, and ropes binding their ankles, knees, shins, and ankles. A classic bondage was appropriate for two classic girls. I felt that the first step to enjoying bondage was to experience being tied even if it wasn’t enjoyable. At minimum, it gave an appreciation of why a person enjoyed captivity, and it seemed right to have Jenny the rope bunny be the one doing the tying since she would exude the most joy of any of us in performing the deeds. Casey and I also helped, but Jenny did the most. We had agreed that Hannah’s kidnapping school would involve tying up that little ball of energy. How much Jenny and Kendra were, and are, alike!

“Now it’s time for my favorite thing,” Casey smiled at me, and Jenny and I knew what to do.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

“MMMMMMMMM!” both damsels wailed and blushed at being spun around and spanked.
“See that sparkle!” Jenny pointed it out, “That’s how you look when you’re spanked, Casey!”
“Awwww,” Casey blushed, not knowing then that Hannah would be to her what Michela is to me or Jenny is to Nichole, “I never thought about it, but you’re right. It’s fun! Let’s tickle them!”

If you’ve ever thought Jenny was sweet and innocent, then you never met Casey Clark. As she explained before Jenny arrived, she was abandoned by her mother and knew nothing except that her mother was a Mudville native who, while a sophomore at the University of Minnesota, found herself pregnant after a one-night stand with an Argentine graduate student who graduated just a month after their affair. He went home, and Casey’s biological mother never saw her biological father ever again. Her mother abandoned her at the Mudville Fire Department, and shortly after she was brought home by her barren parents to be loved and cherished as their miracle baby. A miracle baby now had a miracle friend in her life. I only say that because Casey privately shared with me that she read a newspaper report that said that “She should have been killed; that car was smashed beyond recognition.” If it was a miracle, then I thank God for saving her for our sake.

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Interlude #90: The Girl Who Prayed in Happiness
Friday, January 24, 2014

“Dear Jesus, there’s hope. I’ll be here for a long time, but I’ll make the most of it.”

Hannah was trying to win me over it seemed by this quiet prayer said as part of her usual prayer before eating lunch. She then sighed, smiled, and began to eat her lunch. Every meal had to be of a certain nutritional balance under Minnesota law, so we had something like milk to drink, like it or not, a cheesy side dish, a pudding for dessert, etc. The same was true of the fruits and the vegetables and the meats. It was a balanced diet, and somehow Hannah was grateful for what, to Michela, was the absolute bottom of the barrel while for me it was just like what Mom made.

Hannah could smile while she ate, and she admired the mixture of bandanas, scrunchies, and, last but not least, barrettes that she saw at this table, dreaming of earning those privileges ASAP. She wasn’t dreaming so much of the items themselves as much as the success of earning them. There was a lot to be said of motivation; the system certainly gave us motivation to behave except for a niggling problem, one many of us shared, of not having a loving family waiting for us after this.

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“Hleathe thop!” Hannah finally surrendered after 12 minutes of tickling, “Unhle!”
“I’d say she did pretty good for a rookie!” Jenny was almost bouncing, as always.
“I agree,” I continued tickling my girlfriend, “She’s a trooper.”
“You mean she’s happy!” Casey looked at me and Jenny teasing a bright eyed Michela, “I don’t know what happened before you got here, but Michela needed this as much as Hannah did.”

She was right that Michela needed it. Thankfully, Michela wasn’t glazed over 24/7, but she was still like that too much of the time. My only concern was what would happen to her if she were triggered at college when she didn’t have someone she trusted to get her through it. Alexandra was a good friend, but I suspected she wouldn’t know what to do if Michela spaced out on her. I never really realized at the time that I was like a guardian angel to her.

Michela was laughing and sounded happy to be getting tickled too, but I had to stop. Mrs. Clark had just pulled up in the driveway, and the rule was that we had to be quiet in playing TUGs. It was a reasonable request we happily accommodated. It’s not a small price to pay for the right to continue playing such an atypical game in someone else’s home.

Thus, three relationships were born out of that day. Casey and Hannah Jones; Jenny and Hannah Jones; and bondage and Hannah Jones. I’m not 100% certain, but I think she went to sleep with a smile on her face. I know I sure did, and I did so without dirty play and as the little spoon. My life was… more or less happy. I just hadn’t realized it yet. There was one last hurdle though…

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In Chapter 22, I will have a nice playdate with my friends. Who will be there? See the poll at the top of the page to send in your choices. The three girls who get the most votes will be there, and there will be excuses why the others won’t be there. You get no choice; Michela’s there.

I just want to reiterate that you may choose up to 3 girls in the poll. At the moment, I see only 1 vote for just 1 girl.

My vote is cast I can't wait for more!!

@charliesmith, @silvertejp590, @SquidIncMaster, @Switcher1313, @The G-Man, @Caesar73, @Phantomette, @0Kay, @Yewteed, @Solarbeast, @GreyLord, @Kinky_boi,@harveygasson, @hafnermg, @johopp, @Bilmik, @DommeKirsten, @RopeBunny, @LunaDog

The return of the Bondagettes! I have figured out how to use the Google Drive to include photos, but I am still limited on the size because I have to shrink the photos down enough to make the watermark/link illegible. Many thanks to Ken for giving me permission to use his work like this.

Chapter 21: Mary-Ann’s Breakthrough
Tuesday, July 14, 2015

“MMMMMM!” Mary-Ann said in the not too distant past.
“Man, even when it’s another studio, you’re hot,” I walk away from Kendra’s screen.
“Thank you!” Mary-Ann curtsied in the open door while waiting for me.
“Make sure she’s hotter than that!” Kendra yelled to me as M.A. and I went out the door.
“Will do!” I promised Kendra as we headed out the door to an evening at TAC.
“Have fuunnnnnnnnnn!” the distinctive accent of Ashley called behind us.

Mary-Ann wasn't usually confident when we were in juvie. The only thing in which she had any sort of confidence, then, was her arm wrestling ability and her volleyball playing. She was, still is, very talented, though. She can sing; she can rhythm box; she is very intelligent; she can learn to bake and cook; she runs her own bondage studio; she's incredible.

I didn't realize until she said something in the car that this was going to be her 12th time shooting with TAC since making her debut with them. She’d done 9 each with Tommy Trusser and NC as well. This was absolutely incredible for her, and this was the first time she was doing TAC alone with me; most times at any studio she had Kendra with her. In fact, at NC, every shoot was with Kendra. Their friendship had exploded in the last 8 months, and now it included Ashley, too.

“Hannah,” she sounded vulnerable, “is it… Why did… Do you understand parents at all?”
“I used to think I did, but I don't. Who among us does? I’d say Taylor or Kylie is your best bet if you want someone who has two living, loving parents. Xandra is another good one.”
“No,” she shuddered, “I’m just… Why didn't mine want me?”
“I’m not answering that,” I knew I couldn't help M.A. with this, “Maybe Jackie can help.”
“Hannah,” she said my name so sweetly, “You're a real friend. Thanks for being in my life.”
“I love the big chain of dog tags. Remember singing for me when we were in juvie?”
“Thanks,” she clutches the dog tags, “I’m a survivor. Of course I remember that. Shall I sing?”

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Interlude #91: Mary-Ann, the Lovely Singer
Saturday, December 15, 2012

It was always Ashley, Destiny, and Jackie whose names were mentioned with singing in Pod F, but there was another talented singer who just never showed it. One day, during recreation, the sounds of heavenly singing filled my ears as I walked to the gym with a kiosk treat. There was a girl all alone in the gym, singing in perfect rhythm to her boxing routine. I speak of Maddy, who had a voice that was incomparable to any others. O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.

“M.A., that's beautiful!” I said to her shocked reaction as she clearly thought no one heard her.
“Hannah!” she jumped 10 inches, “Don't come up behind me when I’m boxing!”
“Your voice! Maddy, it's amazing!”
“Thanks, Hannah,” she smiled before she turned and returned to the meat bag without a word.
“What are you thankful for?” I asked her one last question before moving along.
“To be here instead of foster care because I’ve gotten to meet girls like you.”

That was the beginning of Mary-Ann’s journey to becoming part of our church’s choir. She’s not the only member of the “Bondagettes of Pod F” to also serve in that choir though.

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Jackie Martin was a fellow inmate of ours. She’d done time for her crimes, and she'd gone home to cousins who cared about her, unlike her family. She and M.A. had a lot in common, given the similar disinterest they saw in their parents. We were living tragedies, but hearing the blonde say she’d committed crimes ro survive was something else.

Jackie and I are almost the same size. She's only a little taller than I am, and she came riding her motorcycle and wearing all leather pants, jacket, and boots. Under the jacket she had a crop top, and on her head she wore a kerchief bandana. She was M.A.’s kindred spirit of edgy fashion and parental neglect, and they even both preferred prison to home. Was this… God at work?

“Hiiii!” Jackie waved so happily when she saw us, “I brought a friend with me, too!”

And out stepped Madison Hill, a tall, beautiful girl, taller than Mary-Ann. She had long blonde hair and beautiful chocolate brown eyes. She was in blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a t-shirt after the ride over. I had no idea that in 2025 I would still be making bondage scenes with all three of these girls. Yet, here we were, and Jackie was holding a roll of duct tape, ready to go.

“C’mon, Mary! Get dressed so I can tape you and expose those 34DD squishy French titties!”
“Sorry, Maddy, but your melon tits are legendary,” I tease our friend.
“Madison, this here is the legendary Mary-Ann Voisin,” Jackie brings them together.
“Hardly legendary. We met inside,” Madison blushes and smiles, “But to hug them.”
“I forgot that. It's Taylor who didn't overlap,” Jackie shrank in embarrassment.
“I can't wait to see these on camera,” I pointed to Madison’s bust.
“Not today,” she giggled loudly while embracing me, “Your eyes wander a lot. It's cute.”

My eyes wandered like a boy’s, that is true, and learning to control myself was necessary when I got married. It knew my friends could take the teasing. Or at least I supposed as much. When I was doing my exercises with the girls and showering, even I got the jokes from others. As much as Michela, Kylie, and I were known lesbians, besides Ashley being in the closet, we were alone and never had another podmate who felt as we did about girls.

Mary-Ann put on skin tone pantyhose, a woolen gray miniskirt, and a white button up with dark gray pinstripes, and in so doing she transformed herself into Maddy Vee, the gorgeous bondage model. The black heeled sandals added a touch of charm to her outfit, and she was now quite a natural at the heel walk. Steve skipped the cheesecake and went right to the main course.

Duct tape with a side of tits, please! Yeah, I duct taped Maddy at Jackie's suggestion. Jackie had the idea of sealing Maddy’s lips with duct tape though. We taped M.A.’s wrists and elbows and her legs in the three classic TAC spots. Jackie playfully sealed M.A.’s lips shut, and there was a distinctively playful vibe to the manner in which Jackie did it. This was the beginning of one of Mary-Ann’s most dependable actresses when she later created Maddy Tied Her.

“You look so cute!” Jackie stepped back, “What would make a good name for me?”
“Well, you’re clearly mischievous,” I grinned and stepped back.
“Well, then how about ‘Miss Chiff’?” Madison kindly spoke while keeping an eye on M.A.
“I don’t know… I’m more of a Missy,” Jackie thoughtfully contemplated this concept.
“Missy Mischief then?” Madison blurted out, and the glow in Jackie’s eyes said we had a winner.
“MMMMMMM!” M.A. reminded us all of her presence.



Photo shoots are so much fun, but they’re a lot of work, too. You don’t just pose; you hold that pose until Steve gets the shot. Then you move a little and hold that position, and you keep at it until he has a nice set of sequences of you struggling in different manners. Maddy had the face down perfectly; she could look scared, sad, and pissed off. The hardest part was twisting about so our arms would be in front of us for shots. Then Steve had me stand by the camera just as he had it set up while he grabbed Maddy’s tits for a few shots.

In true fashion, next Maddy was taken off the egg crate and put on the floor. She squirmed and rolled and looked absolutely sexy for those pictures, and then came the best part. Yes, I mean tits out, my friends! Big 34DD floppy French titties were exposed, and it was I who pulled them out of Mary-Ann’s shirt. She continued to pose, but we weren’t done yet! Nope! Jackie pinched her new colleague’s tits in clothespins! Maddy quickly twisted around and pulled one clothespin off her tits before Steve gave an “Ah ah ahhh!” that told her to leave them be. So, M.A. caressed her own tit for a few shots while glaring at Jackie.

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Interlude #92: Mary-Ann, the Boxing Queen
Sunday, June 30, 2013

“C’mon Hannah,” Mary-Ann motioned to me with a fire in her eyes, “I’m ripped.”
“You? OK…,” I followed her to the punching bag, which she attacked with a vengeance.
“They won’t keep me until I’m 19. I’m getting out next week,” I saw fearful tears in her eyes.
“Well, this was your deal…”
“I have nowhere to go, Hannah!” she explained, “I’ll be homeless.”
“Go to Bernadette’s. She'll take you,” I insisted, but my words fell on deaf ears.
“I’m a disgrace to the Voisin family. No one will take me.”
“And your mother's family?”
“What family? I don't even know her maiden name,” she responded, “She turns 35 in July.”

Mary-Ann really went to work with perfect form. When she said that, I realized just how screwy her childhood was. She didn't know her mother's surname? I never knew her mother was just 16 when she was born. So much was messed up in that home. It's a miracle that worse didn't befall a sweet youngster like Mary-Ann. All pictures of her from before my release from juvie (and my subsequent reunion with her) were taken by her Voisin relations or by the guards. I don’t mean a monster guard; I mean someone like Mrs. Copley, who secretly took the photos to send to cousin Bernadette or Mary-Ann’s aunt.

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Now, I got the pleasure of binding and gagging Jackie, the first time my friend had ever been tied up or gagged in her life. Madison cheerfully untied Mary-Ann, and I noticed that the blonde still had that same undying positivity she had adopted shortly after imprisonment. She was cheerful, and her spirit hadn't changed. She looked forward in hope although she was without religion, but hope, but casual hope and virtuous hope, is found among all peoples.

Jackie needed hope, because I was tying her up. I bound her legs in the three classic places, and I bound her wrists and tied a harness. You should know this drill by now unless you're a newbie to this story. Even then, you should have read what I said about photoshoots above, but now the photos represent a girl bound in ropes and enjoying a classic white fabric cleave gag. White high heels, a black miniskirt, hose, a garter, and a colorful blouse were pretty for doing this part in the Moreau's living room. Then it was tits out, my friends, but Jackie asked me not to include those.



“Hannah,” Maddy took my hand and asked, “Maybe God spared me going down Jackie’s path?”
“I’m really not sure what you're asking me, Mary-Ann,” I shook my head and watched Jackie.
“Maybe God wanted us to be friends, me to Kendra’s bestie, to take in Ashley, so He nudged me to go out with my soccer ball that day so the cops would come. Maybe He wanted me in prison.”
“Maybe He wanted Mr. Reardon and his gang to r-pe you, me, Kenny, Jackie, and Kylie, too? I can't believe my ears!” I was aghast, but I turned and saw M.A. looking like I’d slapped her.
“And maybe He cried when that monster ruined what little was left of us!”
“What?! You think He cares enough to…,” she cut me off and spoke emphatically.
“To bring us together in hopes we’d see He made us perfect for each other?! Yes!”
“Mary-Ann, a God who nudges but mostly leaves us to ourselves… Is a truly loving God.”

Suddenly, pieces of the great spiritual conundrum came together in my mind and made sense.

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Interlude #93: Mary-Ann, the Dumpster Diver
Sunday, August 04, 2013

Mary-Ann never knew what she’d find in the dumpster. Sometimes she found cans of perfectly fine food that someone had discarded. Then, she'd have something to eat, at least. Eating was a lot better than her other two main activities: begging and running from solicitors. She’d lost her innocence in prison and wasn't going to lose anything more if she could help it. Often, the food she found in the dumpster was better than anything she’d eaten at home as a child. She missed a lot of things, especially Grandpa Voisin and Uncle Junior. Here she was, an 18 year old, and her own mother had just turned 35. She never considered that her parents were high schoolers until it was pointed out to her by others. The things wrong with Mary-Ann’s life piled up higher and higher the more you talk to her. Dumpster diving was better than home life?!

“I just love Baked Beans!” the homeless girl took her food to her secret camp.
“Why ain't you sharin’?” she heard a frightful voice as she returned to the dumpster.
“You again!” she kicked the wannabe molester right in the nuts, “I’ve had it with you!”
“Damn, baby, you know how to strike!” the freak went down to the earth.
“And if you ever bother me again you'll be hospitalized to have what’s left chopped out!”

With that, Mary-Ann put those running skills to use and took off.

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“I’m sorry. I never even told Kendra that much detail,” M.A. said afterwards.
“He did so much worse to you, emotionally, than he did to me,” I responded ruefully.
“Hannah, he ruined me. For two months I fought off bozos daily for my purity…”
“Until God led Bernadette to your camp,” I blurted out the words to my own shock.
“Yes, Hannah, and led you to my register,” her response was confident, “He saved me.”
“M.A., you’ve never processed your life before, have you?” it was tough for us prison girls.

She shook her head. This was her breakthrough, the moment where she finally put all of her life and experiences into a big picture, gave it up to God, and accepted reality. She had ignored those various demons that had pursued her, finding it easier to tune them out than to vanquish them. It was a relief to hear her admit her weaknesses and what reasons she had for talking to me instead of Kendra. In short, she knew Kendra would be triggered by what she'd said, and she knew I had experience with abandonment. She felt the proverbial weight lifting off her shoulders.

Jackie felt a weight though. She kept the miniskirt, and she changed her shoes and blouse. I tied her elbows this time, and I tied her forearms as well. No harness, but I did gag her with a strip of microfoam tape. The whitish pantyhose made her look so freaking cute. Jackie Martin was now a hottie in distress! She was a pretty girl, bound and gagged.

In 2025, Jackie is still single. She has dated many, many guys, but only one has even gotten her to pucker her lips for him. She is a pretty young lady, but she still believes everyone sees her at a distance and recognizes her as the teenage crook or something. That's how I see it. I hope that I am wrong, but I see that as the best of the possible explanations. I suppose she's not interested or hasn't found the right guy yet. Regardless, she is happy with her life.

Notice how the middle rope slips down her arms throughout the scene? She has to be told what to do, unlike M.A. who often moved without being told. Removing Jackie's evoked a squeal that told me we were about to have lots of fun. Soon, the time came—tits out, my friends—and with it came the squeal I had expected to come out of the newly christened Missy Mischief.



Before the closing cheesecake came Jackie's first movie. We got 7 minutes of Jackie hopping all over the Moreau’s living room while she quietly complained into the microfoam tape that sealed her mouth shut. She moved around so much that Steve actually had to motion with his hand for her to come back into the living room. What fun! Jackie, you are such a lively and sweet girl!

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Interlude #94: Mary-Ann, the Beloved Cousin
Monday, December 23, 2013

“Please, Mary, sing for us,” Mary-Ann’s cousin Bernadette pleaded with heartfelt emotion.
“I… can't,” Mary-Ann faced the window and sighed, “I need routine, Bernie.”
“Don't sing for me, then. Sing for Daddy and Grandpa,” Bernie ignored the guests for now.
“And Grandma too,” the big girl sighed, “OK, for love. To the memory of the wonderful men, Bernard Voisin, Sr. and Jr., I will sing O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, their favorite song.”

Mary-Ann sang the complete song, all of its lyrics, from memory, to perfection, just like when I heard her sing it in juvie. She sang it with emotion. with tears, and with much tension. As she sang, she slowly walked about the room despite the numerous eyes watching her. As she sang, the tears grew more numerous until she could no longer hold them back. She was sobbing.

“That was perfect! But, Mary, what's wrong?” her cousin approached her.
“This is my first Christmas outside since 2007,” Mary-Ann explained, “But the worst thing about juvie was not getting to say goodbye to Grandpa and Uncle,” and she fell to her knees in tears.

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Back to the basement we went for Maddy’s second scene of the day. A black bra, a pink blouse with ample cleavage, a flowy gray miniskirt, black heels, black hose, and a garter made Maddy look absolutely gorgeous. I tied her wrists and added a harness, but this time I did three bindings along her lower legs alone with the thigh binding. A knotted pink bandana cleave gagged her.

The cheesecake that preceded this told a tale of its own. It was common for Steve to take 30-50 pinups of Mary-Ann, but it was hilarious when he asked M.A. to grab her own tits. We all liked to fondle those squishy melons, it seemed! I briefly wondered if Ashley or Kendra would ever grab those tits during games as well. Mmmmm, tits. Let's move along to M.A.’s scene!

Throughout the day, Madison had graciously untied the damsels in between scenes, and she had watched it all with great interest. Little did I notice that she was upstairs at this moment, filling out one of the forms so she could model sometime as well. She was so sweet, and I didn't know at the time that she would end up being good friends with the Moreau's themselves. That's for a later installment of this story, though.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't Maddy Vee,” Missy Mischief strutted over to M.A. and exposed her!
“Nothing like seeing those squishy melons out for the world!” I taunted Maddy.
“MMMMMMM!” she was completely into her role of a hottie-in-distress.

Again, I got to hold the camera while Steve fondled the beautiful Maddy Vee, and while she kept herself into the role I could secretly tell that she liked it and wanted to one day have a man who’d manhandle her while she was tied up. That outfit was nice, and the double-thick footpads were a cute touch as well. I see London; I see France; I see Maddy’s underpants.



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Interlude #95: Mary-Ann, the Best Friend
Friday, February 27, 2015

“Marrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyy!” Kendra’s voice called out in a sing-song manner.
“Yes, my sweet,” Mary-Ann stuck her head in the bedroom to see her friend on her new bed.
“Is this as cozy looking as it feels for me?”
“Oh, yeah, and then some,” the big French girl nodded, “I’m glad we're friends.”
“Well, now’s not the time for sleeping,” Kendra climbed out, “But I had to try it.”
“What’ll it be tonight? Cards? Rope practice? Independent?”
“Yeah, all right, Mary, I’ll tie you up,” the little girl smiled.

This was how they improved their skills for both work and for being around others. They tied up each other using the same kind of clothesline Steve and Marcy used. Then they’d try to bust out. It was a simple game for girls who enjoyed simple pleasures yet adored the other’s personality as well. Mary-Ann opened her home to Kendra; but she also opened her heart.

“Mary,” Kendra asked a conversation starter while knotting a rope, “Why do you like bondage?”
“Because it’s all voluntary; it’s fun; it’s a game,” the French girl’s eyes sparkled as she spoke.
“That's interesting,” the Napoleonic girl bound her friend's wrists, “It's a fun game?”
“Yeah… It's because… I love and trust you. You're testing me and my limits.”
“Mary, you're… The more I know about you, the more I care about you.”

That sing-song way of saying “Mary” really meant “beloved best friend Mary.”

——————————————————————————————

Mary-Ann was quiet all the way to Teddy’s, where we were going to meet Madison and Jackie for lunch. She relaxed with a peaceful smile on her face and seemed almost to be asleep or even daydreaming. She had Kendra and Ashley at home; what did I bring to her life that was different from her friendships with her own housemates? I didn’t give myself enough credit.

“I had so much fun today! It’s always good when I get to hug a podmate!” M.A. was so happy.
“I really enjoyed myself today,” Jackie admitted, “That was awesome and loads of fun.”
“And Steve has my number, so Hannah better be ready to get the call,” Madison added.
“M.A., I’ve seen you happy before, but you’re at peace finally. What happened?” I asked her.
“Hannah, I’ll never be at true peace with what happened to me as a minor,” she was candid, “I’ll always wonder why juvie happened like it and why my parents were–are–that way. Learning to carry those burdens, to process, and understanding how to,” she paused to reflect, “To use them to not just make my life better but to improve the lives of all around me–that’s special, Hannah!”
I took Mary-Ann’s hand, “You mean you learned that you’re defined by who you choose to be in the here and now and not by the tumult of your childhood.”
“Yeah,” M.A. clutches her dog tags, “I’m a survivor. We—We—are survivors.”

I could see Madison processing what Mary-Ann said differently from how Jackie processed it. It was the beginning of a journey for Jackie; in October, Jackie was baptized into Catholicism, and she and I were confirmed on the same day with Kendra as our sponsor. She took the first leap of faith long before I did, but we took that final step together. She didn’t want to be confirmed until she fully grasped, let alone knew and blindly believed, what the Church taught about matters.

“Tell me, Jackie, what was awesome about today?” Madison loved talking to people directly.
“Everything. Friends… Steve… bondage… photography… videography!” Jackie smiled.
“You’re holding back something still,” Mary-Ann peered into Jackie’s heart a little more.
“Mary, our stories aren’t really that different,” Jackie admitted, “It’s good to be understood.”
“You dress like a retired thief,” Mary-Ann winked at Jackie, “I like your style.”
“We have a lot in common, and I’m glad we’re in each other’s lives.”

We had a lot of reasons to be grateful despite of our unique, and sometimes tragic, stories.

——————————————————————————————

In Chapter 23, who are going to be the girls who join us at the shoot? To help you, I’ve included some shots of the people involved.

(A) Kylie Svensson (with her cousin)
(B) Kendra Kristensen (with her boyfriend)
(C) Brianna (with a friend, shown by herself in the photo)
(D) Taylor (with a friend)

C

C!!

@charliesmith, @silvertejp590, @SquidIncMaster, @Switcher1313, @The G-Man, @Caesar73, @Phantomette, @0Kay, @Yewteed, @Solarbeast, @GreyLord, @Kinky_boi,@harveygasson, @hafnermg, @johopp, @Bilmik, @DommeKirsten, @RopeBunny, @LunaDog

Brianna DeChambeau and her friend will be featured in Chapter 23.

Chapter 22: Borderline and Rough
Saturday, July 18, 2015

Since there was no interest in my playdate, I instead got to visit Steve Moreau again. This is the story of something more than just bondage and working as an assistant to a bondage producer; it is my story of discovering my darkest self. You see, I had planned this playdate for weeks, and I had nobody show up. All had real excuses not to be there, but my BPD disagreed. This is when I learned that nothing can stop life from bringing disappointments. Suck it up, buttercup.

“Ah, Hannah, don’t feel bad,” Luisa tried to comfort me, “Sometimes schedules don’t line up.”
“Hey,” Hannah Jones gave me a tight hug, “I’m here if you need me.”
“Oh, I’m just being pathetic,” I looked at Luisa, her head covered by a bright blue kerchief.
“No, you’re not!” the middle Palmeri sister insisted, “Hannah, you can’t help some things!”
“C’mon,” my beloved Hannah took my arm, “You have a busy day ahead of you.”
“All right. You’re right,” I sighed, “This BPD just absolutely f-cks with my mind!”

That use of “f-ck” got raised eyebrows from Hannah and a slight recoil from Luisa; they saw an uncomfortable shift in my use of a word I normally did not drop so easily. Living with Hannah had changed nothing in our way of life, and she had quickly become another cherished member of the household. Hannah led me out to my jalopy and got into the passenger seat. With a sigh of mixed emotions, I drove to the Moreau’s house, realizing that I was complex but redeemable.

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Interlude #96: Destiny, the Foodie
Monday, December 02, 2013

“Oh, boy,” our friend Destiny rubbed her hands together, “If there’s anythin’ I love more than a gangbang, it’s cookin’,” she chuckled at her own joke because she probably liked both kinds.
“You do not seem to eat as much as you cook,” Jackie wryly commented about Destiny’s size.
“Listen, missy, don’t get smart wit’ me,” Destiny ironically used the term that would one day be Jackie’s modeling alias, “I might be a heartless, cold-blooded thug, but I like seein’ the smiles on my brother’s face when I make his favorite cookies,” and then she sighed.
“What’s the matter?” Michela asked her, “From one paesan to another.”
“Oh, hell, here’s the sob story. My father died when I was 11. My ma remarried, and she had my brother. There, ya happy? And right now I’m missin’ him because he’d be so pissed off and heartbroken to see what came of his little girl after his death,” she started crying.

There was so much bitterness in Destiny’s voice. Most of us came lost in some sort of guilt, but I hadn’t heard this kind of mixed anger and regret. She was struggling with something that only one of us could understand, and that was a girl who had been released before Destiny arrived at the Mudville Juvie, Felice. There’d be bonding between them, but that happened later.

Still, Destiny loved cooking classes, especially the ones in Program Room #3 at the north side of the building. This room had bare concrete floors and the typical walls; it was inflammable. This gave girls the opportunity to get a little more hands-on than the little demos we just watched at a distance in Program Room #1. Destiny loved such classes so much, and the sight of an instructor with a table and all the ingredients ready to go snapped her right out of her tears.

——————————————————————————————

Burying myself in my labors as an assistant to Steve Moreau was a great way to get my mind off the failure of my playdate. Yes, you understand! I make it for the failed playdate by making the most of my work for Steve, enjoying it and giving it my best. Hannah suggested I do this on the way to the Moreau’s. As if it isn’t obvious, Hannah is a natural at making helpful suggestions. I am not the only person quickly growing to like having her in the Palmeri household.

“Madison, welcome to the club we jokingly call ‘The Bondagettes of Pod F,’” I greeted her.
“I don’t think you should joke!” Madison smiled and gave me a hug, “It’s cute!”
“Well,” I looked into the tall girl’s brown eyes, “I guess you’re right! It’s who we are!”
“You’re sad today,” everyone was seeing through me, “That’s all right. Hating yourself isn’t.”
“Thank you for a much needed reminder,” I turned and saw Hannah’s approval.
“Now, let’s do our best during our workouts. After all, you’re going to tie me up!” Madison was so sweet I couldn’t figure out how a girl like her could do a job like this..

How could I not smile while I bound and gagged this girl? Steve was so pleased with her style at a debut shoot that he only asked her to put on pantyhose and a pair of heels? The shirt and skirt? Those were Madison’s, her choice since she figured she should wear a skirt since that was what she saw everyone wearing last time she was here. Now it was time to test her.

This was my first realization that I had hope of controlling my sexuality. It was a lesson that I’d take a long time to fully appreciate; I didn’t have to feel aroused by every girl nor desire to see a boob or a crotch. It was fine to appreciate the platonic company of a person, and I felt a need to reign myself in a little. It was a moment that was a long time coming, but it was coming soon.

I didn’t pay too much attention to the coils of clothesline as I grabbed them, and I ended with one that was more appropriate for a harness when I went to tie Madison’s knees. She never once had any visible signs of nervous; in fact, she had no anxiety whatsoever. What a trooper! She never uttered a complaint when I forced her elbows to touch, and the solid black ball gag was a perfect gag for this scene. Now, it was time for Madison to do her workout and follow Steve’s orders.

She proved herself to be a hottie by doing everything requested, and she also posed for the cutest post-scene cheesecake afterwards. How little we knew that Madison would be at TAC to the end in 2024, when Steve, Marcy, Mary-Ann, and Kristine all agreed that it was time so the Moreau’s could retire to Florida like they’d always wanted to do since they got married.



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Interlude #97: Destiny, the Gangster
Tuesday, December 03, 2013

Lavender and black made us stand out relative to other prisons where they wear orange or, more likely, are only allowed to wear outfits brought from home and approved by staff. We retained a distinct femininity and had dignity. We weren't criminals like the orange uniforms said; we were regular girls who'd made mistakes and needed more help than our families and loved ones could give us. The uniforms empowered some and demolished others.

“I hate this hellhole wit’ a passion,” Destiny sighed one day, “But I deserved it so bad.”
“I think we all deserved it to some extent,” Jackie sighed, “It’s the sentences I question.”
“Jack, you’re the only girl who has a navy bandana. How on earth did ya get that?”
“Well,” the girl with the navy kerchief chuckled, “It’s mine. I was wearing it the day I arrived in this place, and when I earned the permission I asked instead if I could have it back. Jealous?”
“A little bit, but I’ll get there. I like the tough girl vibe. When I get out of here, I wanna scare all the folks into thinkin’ I’m a bad gangsta when in reality I’m sweet as sugar.”
“And hilariously snarky,” I added.

Destiny was a gangster still in many ways, but she instead, to our delight, used it to become one of the most dynamic and fun actresses in our circle of friendship.

——————————————————————————————

I don’t know what was the best part of round two with Madison. The gray miniskirt, the sweetly pink blouse. Since Madison could take it, I tied five ropes on her legs this time, but her arms got the same treatment as before. One fun addition to the scene was using a knotted dish towel as a gag, something I sure I never saw in the CGC. It shut her up well enough for a series of photos!

“Well, Hannah, it looks like you’ve got a hottie in distress on your hands,” Hannah teased me.
“She’s a hottie, but she’s my friend first and foremost,” and with that I understood friendship.

It was the start, at least. The hair clip that Madison used was a good idea to keep her hair out of her face since her hair is so long, but it didn’t change that she was a prisoner of love. No one I’d previously seen so naturally understood the ways of the studio with positioning her feet to be so seductive for the foot lovers right off the bat. Sure, she needed coaching on the positions, but she had the foot thing down to an exact science by instinct. Yes, she’s a hottie in distress!

And then it was tits out, my friends. No, I’m not showing her tits, but they were out and were a nice set to handle with my hands. She handled them with her own hands, too. I put the heels on her feet at Steve’s request so she could do that adorable squat Steve liked so much. Then came a sweet smile and cheesecake shots that were going to make the men explode in their shorts.



“Hannah, let’s do a scene with you this time. It’s been too long,” Steve said to my happiness

——————————————————————————————

Interlude #98: Destiny, the Athlete
Wednesday, December 04, 2013

“POW!” Destiny spiked the ball, proving she was once on the high school’s volleyball team.
“How come I didn’t know you before if you went to Mudville Savage?” I asked her.
“Later!” she promised and took another spike at the ball, again proving her dominance.
“I got it!” some random girl in Pod B said while making a pitiful effort to return the spike.
“BOOM!” I heard one of our teammates say at the same time, emphasizing Destiny’s abilities.
“Nice try, but I’m almost a professional,” Destiny chortled before stepping off the court.

Destiny was apparently a real natural at these things. She was good at volleyball, dodgeball, and soccer, and she wasn’t shabby at basketball though she was more of a bruiser like Michela. They instantly connected on this, and I see Michela as the one most responsible for Destiny’s religious epiphany and true turnaround. There is a lot more to Destiny, but it will have to wait for later, in the chapter where she gets out of prison. For now, let this suffice.

Honestly, Destiny made us all better at sports. She was a natural teacher, as silly as it may sound at the moment, but she was really patient with teaching people how to do these things, correcting their form, and giving them pointers on how to be more effective. She later made use of her skill by becoming a hall guard here at the Mudville juvie, and she also led programs where she’d give the girls lessons on how to play the sports that we played during gym every day.

——————————————————————————————

I was really bound and gagged well by Hannah. She tied my wrists and elbows without mercy since she knew I could take it. The harness was super amazing and really made my tits more of a feature than I ever knew they could be in the arms of anyone besides Michela. My legs were tied up really well. The pair of socks that Madison had worn in the previous scene filled my mouth under a few strips of red duct tape. It was my turn to be the hottie in distress in the room!

A white blouse went perfectly with my a black skirt, a skirt with beautiful butterflies on them, as a matter of fact. Nude pantyhose and black open topped heels rounded off the sight of me in my beautiful bondage. A barrette held my hair back, and I used these more than I tell you I do. I do always wear a bandana, but usually it’s supported by a barrette or hair pins. I sat on the familiar egg crate for a few dozen shots, and that was it, but it was enough to help my confidence.



Holding the poses can be hard work. It really is a workout, and I’m glad that we only did one scene because the day I did six with Kendra really was a lot of work. This was the best kind of work, in my opinion, because the reward was instant for me as the model, but the exhaustion was so real. The BPD does that to me. It was nothing personal about the scenes or Steve.

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Interlude #99: Destiny, the Gamester
Thursday, December 05, 2013

“All right, who’s ready to get their butt kicked tonight?” Destiny issued her challenge.
“I don’t care if I lose,” Jackie said with eagerness.
“I just want to have fun with friends and forget I’m in prison!” Kylie added.
“Too bad I’m kicking your butt if I get the chance!” Michela challenged in her own way!
“Excuse me? Is that supposed to be some sort of bad joke?” Hannah Jones rolled her eyes.
“I think you, my friend, need a reality check,” I crossed my arms and turned away.
“She’s so funny! She thinks I care if I win or lose,” Madison giggled like a little kid.
“She thinks she controls our destiny,” Ashley’s thick accent added charm to her pun.
“The nerve!” Taylor stretched herself to her full height, “Thinking she owns us at games.”
“Yeah, right, Destiny!” another said, “Revenge is a dish best served cold!”

If you can’t tell, Destiny had become the girl with whom everyone in Pod F wanted to be playing during game time. Michela was easily distracted with hockey, though, and that removed one challenger for Destiny’s attention. The real problem was that Destiny also loved hockey, and we often lost her the moment she saw hockey on the TV screen. Tonight was one of those nights where friendship won, the first of many times that Destiny chose friendship over hockey.

——————————————————————————————

“Hannah, I’m so proud of you,” Luisa said to me after Hannah told her about today.
“Really?!” I was shocked by her words, “I see myself as a weirdo. Why don't you hate me?”
“What?! Never! You were raised to be such a bigot that you expect others to be bigots, too,” she answered me in kindness, “I believe that sleeping with Michela is wrong, but I believe that your friendship is more than this. I see you one day being a good Catholic wife and mom.”
“This girl is really positive,” Hannah squirmed a little, “I’m blessed to have the friends I do.”
“Lou, you're the kind of little sister I always wished for,” I answered her, “But wishing is just the atheist's way of praying and covering it up,” I laughed a little, “Thank you for being you.”

Hannah and I sat down and talked for a while. Michela had gone out with Sophia for sister time in town. Where they went or what they didn't matter. What mattered was that Hannah and I did what we did, which was talk about life. Our lives. Our shared lives. Our lives before each other and our lives without each other. I mean our lives before prison, our overlapping stints, our time apart while she was still inside, and our present situation. She was confused but hopeful.

“It's kind of hard. I never met my grandfather. He was dead for 25 years before I arrived,” I did not ever talk about my family like this, “Vietnam took him. Dad was 2. Grandma was 21.”
“I’m sorry. My grandparents are all alive, but the two that still love me are in Massachusetts.”
“Wow… I thought your family all cut you off?” I scratched my head in confusion.
“Well, yeah, my parents and my siblings would spit on me if I walked up to them, and so would my father's family. Mom’s side is the Portuguese side. They're more forgiving,” she blushed.
“Grandpa,” I muttered under my breath, “Maybe my parents only wanted a status symbol.”
“Oh, gosh, Hannah,” Hannah seemed stunned at the thought, “I hope not! Let's play a TUG.”

I tied up Hannah for a half hour. Ironically, little has changed for Hannah and Hannah. I had my brief reconciliation with my parents from 2018-2019, but I haven't spoken to them since then. It bothers me that my children don't know their grandparents, but they know their great-grandma. I have to stand up for something, and it's better being persecuted for beliefs than for being a dealer. Hannah, as of this past New Year's, is on 11 years without talking to her own family. It's like she died in that car accident, and since then her maternal grandparents passed away. Hannah went to their funerals, and her family wouldn't even acknowledge her. She's completely dead to them. It deserves a story of its own because I’ve never seen someone so heartbroken in my life.

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Interlude #100: Destiny, the Singer
Friday, December 06, 2013

“They offer mass? Really?” Destiny studied the schedule for Sunday finally.
“Yeah, one of the priests from my church comes here,” Michela smiled brightly, “I love him.”
“My daddy always wanted me to sing in the choir, but after he died my ma married that Baptist fella. I never went to a Catholic church again after that.”
“Oh, do you sing?” Ashley’s ears perked up, “I’d love to hear your singing voice!”
“Look, if I sing, ya promise to not ask me to sing ever again?” Destiny asked sarcastically.
“Of course not! I like to sing too. Please, Destiny!” the French girl had an adorable whine.
“All right, all right, I’ll sing for ya, but get ready to protect your eardrums.”

And what followed was something so profound and emotionally charged that Ashley burst into tears. This was like listening to Mary-Ann sing, only with a different kind of heartache. There was a thirst for goodness in Destiny’s soul, something I still wouldn’t experience for a very long time. She had a longing, a void, and it would take some time before she really felt herself start to heal. It all began that day, though, with her singing, and her subsequent choice to attend mass.

Destiny took Mary-Ann’s place in three ways: singing, gaming, and athletics.

——————————————————————————————

“Gmmm mmmmm,” I passionately ate Michela’s carpet while in my requested bondage.

It was my favorite game of all. My elbows were tied with rough brown rope as were my wrists and my forearms. I was in just my black sports bra and black briefs, and a detailed harness and a waist/crotch rope pinned my arms. My legs were tied at my ankles, knees, and lower and upper thighs. String bound my big toes. I was under the covers of the bed. An orange rubber ball with a green bandana gagged me, and a purple bandana blindfolded me. If only Kylie were here too!

The game was to find Michela’s carpet. She had taken off her underwear, but she still had a long denim knee skirt which I had to find a way to navigate, getting my head underneath the fabric to access her body. It wasn’t easy, but as I rubbed Michela’s crotch while she wrote in her journal, I started to realize that my behavior this morning was linked to my behavior at the present. Yeah, I genuinely enjoyed eating Michela’s carpet while gagged and blindfolded in the hope that I’d get her to squirt on my face and maybe even get her to ungag me so I could do this with my lips and tongue. When my BPD swung out to make me feel depressed, unlovable, or lethargic, I also had the hypersexual urges.

“Mmmmm!” I groaned in my own orgasm just as Michela squirted onto my face, “Mmmmm!”

Even as a mother and wife now in 2025, when my BPD gets ever so slightly out of balance, next thing I know, I’m either seducing my husband or asking if a single friend has time to tie me up to put me through some rougher, more adult teasing. The difference is that I won’t engage hubby if I am tied up; I have to be free for that. No, I won’t suck him off; Mr. Reardon made sure of that.

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Who will it be in Chapter 24? The top two vote getters will be in Chapter 24, and the loser will be in Chapter 25. I promise it will be fun no matter what choices you make, so don’t feel you have to choose any one of them. Pick your favorite, and don’t be disappointed if it loses.

(A) Kylie Svensson (with her cousin)
(B) Kendra Kristensen (with her boyfriend)
(C) Taylor Zawislak (with a friend)

B

B!!

Chapter 23: Kinky Work
Friday, July 24, 2015

“Hi, Bea, it’s good to hear from you! Yeah, I’m here with just my girlfriend. Video? Sure!”

Michela turned on the video chat feature, and soon on the other end of the photo was a girl with a bright smile, pale blue eyes, and beautiful straight brown hair. Beatrice Maddux wasn’t ordinary by any means because she and Michela had met in Mudville Juvie as fellow inmates in Pod F. It was before my arrival that Beatrice had been released, but she was also older than us. Pod F was just chock full of stories of redemption, and I was going to meet yet another!

“So… ummm…,” the girl seemed nervous, “My boyfriend Colin and I heard about your… job… from Kristine… And Colin and I wanted to do some stuff of our own… Kristine said that you or your girlfriend would be able to help. Would you be able to come over to Hastings?”

Now I got the story of Beatrice Maddux, a high-quality carjacking teenage girl who got busted at 17 and spent a year in Mudville and a year in the women’s prison Shakopee. She had turned her life around, but she wanted to find her own personal paycheck despite Colin running a successful lumber business. The miracle of the Bondagettes is how we were able to reform our lives!

The next day was the day I met one kinky girl. Beatrice was as sweet in the flesh as she was on the video call, and she had a bubbly hug for her former podmate and even one for me. She was a candid girl, open about her concerns and desires for trying. She wasn’t like the rest of us girls at studios like TAC, NC, or TT; she was a genuine amateur girl who just wanted to have fun and get a little money for it. Being how I am, I cut straight to business matters before I got too far into it.

“Well, Colin can’t take pictures of himself on camera, so we need you for two things: to be sure I am tied up safely and to handle the camera,” her laugh was contagious.

I turned to Michela and felt a strange distance between her and her friend, but thankfully Bea did not notice it. It was there from the moment we started talking about Bea’s interest in bondage; I didn’t want things to wedge me and Michela apart from each other. Uncertain what was going on with Michela, I took a break and excused myself and led my girlfriend away from the scene.

“Michela, what’s eating at you?” I brushed her wavy brown locks aside, “You’re staring.”
“I didn’t realize that she and Colin had sex while she’s tied up. Daddy,” she started crying.
“Baby, I’m sorry,” knowing her needs, I embraced her, “Thankfully, he’ll never hurt you again.”
“This was supposed to be fun; I’ll try to get myself back together. Hannah, why did he do it?”

I will never be able to answer that question. None of us, Michela’s loved ones, can do that.

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Interlude #101: The Garden
Saturday, October 05, 2013



How’s that? Zoom in; look around; check it; go to the bottom of the screen. In the summer of 2013, Mudville Juvie opened a garden that would be managed by the inmates in cooperation with a volunteer who had more information about gardening hidden away in his mind than you could ever imagine. I wasn’t in the garden too much, but on this particular day I decided to explore.

Flowers and vegetables were ready for winter, hidden away in various beds scattered around the small plot of land. It was odd to walk past the dining hall to the double doors that, for the first 8 months of my incarceration, had been forbidden. Instead, I was in awe of the beauty I found, but I knew I could never do it. The garden, which was a volunteer opportunity that, on nights that a garden-themed lecture was held, also counted as an opportunity to earn a point for programs.

There was one person who found her escape from everything— trauma, family, and friends— the sweet, lovable Michela Palmeri. She wasn’t alone, though, and gardening became the thing that she and Jackie Martin uniquely shared.

——————————————————————————————

“All right, can we agree that that pile of ropes with the gag and paddle is sexy?” I asked Bea.
“You’re telling me? It’s exciting!” she sprang like a kid, but in reality she was 21.
“Well, then, take a seat on the couch and pose with your bondage to come,” my arm flows like a TV game show hostess’s arm when she’s unveiling the grand prize.

Beatrice is an absolute babe with the blue jeans and the blue V-neck sleeveless top. She wasn’t an instant wood girl (sorry, I mean for myself, your mileage may vary), but she was pretty. This was exactly what they needed: my eye for placement and scene. Some say I have an artistic eye, but I think it’s more an eye for photography. I can’t paint or draw or anything of the kind. What I brought to Bea as a person meant more to me than what I brought as a bondage model.

That rope was thick and strong, and it really was quite the interesting material and unlike any of the ropes me and my friends used on each other. I played with it and tried to imagine a scene in which it would be perfect for anyone I knew, but I then realized that it was perfect for Bea. That was sufficient for me to take satisfaction in its use. Her happiness was what mattered here.

Bea and Colin had discovered bondage through Kristine. Kristine, Michela’s former cellmate, is an interesting girl who is candid with her friends about her income, but it lit a fire in both Colin and Bea’s hearts. They independently did research, and they ironically chose the same moment to confess their desire to try this new game. The thought of being helpless excited Bea, and it added a new dimension to their sex life as well. Such things aren’t discussed in detail as it is a private matter, but she dropped a few subtle hints. Of course I admitted that bondage was an important component of my and Michela’s relationship.

“You need to relax and enjoy the people themselves more,” Bea smiled while Colin tied her up.

In a way, she was right; I could be so uptight that I deprived myself of a good time.

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Interlude #102: Program Room #3
Sunday, August 04, 2013

Program Room #3 was at the north end of the building, the exact opposite location of the garden. It was a big industrial room: concrete floors and walls, big vent fans, high windows, etc. It was a place where we could get our hands dirty, whether with art or food or anything else that might be a bit messy. This was our chance to learn things that our parents, possibly, failed to teach us or to learn skills that might help us to find a job when we got out of this place.

Program Room #3 was a place where Jackie Martin and Felice Pryce had lots of fun; it’s where a certain girl named Destiny learned a lot of fun tricks for the kitchen. It allowed us to get hands on with something, and that’s why we had to be III’s or, sometimes, IV’s, to be allowed to enjoy the programs that went on in here.

“WOW!” Taylor laughed while stir-frying vegetables for the instructor, “This looks amazing!”
“Who ever knew that cooking could be so much fun,” I said to Michela, who stood next to me.
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, and I could see her eyes glazing over, “Hannah, why did he do it?”
“Michela,” I shook my head, “We’ll never know.”

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The thick blue rope bound Bea’s thighs first, her ankles second, and her knees third. Then it tied her elbows together behind her back. Then her wrists were tied, and I saw the gleam in her eyes, the gleam that I see in Kylie’s eyes: the arousal of merely being bound and gagged. It was only a matter of how much stimulation it actually took Bea to be able to orgasm.

The waist and crotch evoked a giggle and a shudder from her. This rope apparently was perfect for that kind of effect, but this time it only went over her jeans. She posed for a few photos with a stern gaze on her face, but soon a smirk appeared. Gone was Bea and in was naughty model Evelyn Woods. The harness and its associated artifacts had encouraged the transition before she was even gagged. Michela and I both noticed this, and my girlfriend smiled brightly at us.

“It’d be a shame if that harness gagged her and even was used to hogtie her,” Colin grinned.
“It’d be a shame if that paddle went to work on her hind quarters, too,” Michela added.

Which was sexier? That the harness was blue, or the big black ball gag with it? Either way, Bea was shut up in an extremely cute manner, and she was then put in the sexy hogtie. It was quite a position, and it was obvious in her reactions that she’d truly been given his best. I’d taken some 60 pictures already, and who knew how many they would keep to put for sale in their store.

Then came the time for me to stop taking pictures and for me to start filming. It was only five or so minutes, but it was five minutes of Colin striking her butt and feet with the narrow paddle, one of those kinds you see in the Lew Rubens videos. I realized then that getting beaten aroused my senses and that I wanted to try a scene where I was getting tortured like this.

Michela wasn’t one for torture of this kind. Spanking was fine, but other ways of hitting captive girls did nothing for her, as a giver or a receiver. Nevertheless, I could see that discomfort mixed with horniness that so frequently characterized her. How many girls wear combat boots with an otherwise feminine outfit like her skirt and blouse? How many would wear a bandana with it?

“Mmmmmmmmmm!” Bea loudly wailed each time her feet were struck.

The beauty was the silence. Colin, Michela, and I said nothing and let the sound effects take care of all the drama for us. We had the sounds of the paddle striking Bea’s bodies, Bea’s reactions to her punishment, and nothing else. Those 5 minutes felt like 15 to me because it was so amazing to me, and I could imagine Michela and I would be grinding away tonight. It was only a matter of which one of us would have her crotch and tits on display for the other’s delight. I imagined Colin and Bea wouldn’t have these issues.
After the video was done, Colin only mostly untied Bea, who needed time to unwind after such an intense period of bondage and play. She slowly got up off the floor, looked around, and gave us a bright smile and a thumbs up. Only then did she turn to begin untying herself, shedding the various ropes that still bound her one at a time until there was only a smiling girl, a pile of rope, a gag, a paddle, and a cat left on the carpet.

Their debut production had been a success on this end; soon, it would be time to sell it online!



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Interlude #103: Their Old Homes
Thursday, April 01, 2010

The old Mudville juvie was a cold, heartless place. It was prison, and even the classrooms were a stark reminder of prison. Programs were rare due to the limited space, and girls, still in pods of 16 and cells of 2, were jammed into smaller quarters that just barely met the legal minima for an institution. The girls were often miserable, and the guards struggled to maintain positivity. The people were pushing for more human conditions, some saying Shakopee was better than this.

“Nothing like white paint to remind you that you’ve died and gone to hell,” Bea grumbled.
“Hey, kid, keep a stiff upper lip,” Kristine spoke to her friend.
“Jackin’ cars is better than this,” grumbled the shorter brunette, “And better for the soul.”
“Stop being so bitter,” moaned the 12 year-old Ashley, “How do you think I feel?”

Good evening, girls, came over the prison speaker system, We have good news for you. The new facility, after so long, is finally complete. The move will take place starting on Monday and should take 36-72 hours. You will move in groups of 6-8, depending on the number of girls in the pod. We will go through the pods in alpha order. Guards will show you photos of the completed new facility.

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Brianna DeChambeau had a complicated relationship with Michela. Those of you familiar with my previous story, The Bondage Model, know that Michela pretty much assumed that we were disliked by Brianna much like I assumed the worst of Cassie Novak. For Brianna, the rift was formed between her and Michela, and that extended to keeping things professional with her and, by proxy, me, despite Bree’s general misgivings about lumping me with my girlfriend.

“Hannah,” she said to me when Michela went to the restroom, “You’re good, but Michela…”
“I know we had problems before. You now how badly I feel about that,” I blushed as I spoke.
“Calm down,” she clearly didn’t understand BPD, “It’s not you or her. She’s disturbed. Why?”
“Oh, that… Ehhh,” I hated telling Michela’s story for her, “Her father used to tie her up and…”
“Holy sh-t. That explains it all. Would it help her if she was the one who tied me up?”
“Bree, are you,” my own anxiety was fully on display, “Extending an olive branch.”
“Hell yeah. Look, we don’t have to be friends, but we need to be on good enough terms to be able to pretend to be friends when Steve’s rolling the film,” she seemed uncomfortable, “I see a lot in both of you two, and you make a cute couple. Do you follow what I mean?”

I felt positive emotions. Brianna understood that there still existed a natural personality clash in between herself and Michela, but she wanted to be able to sit down and laugh with us over our kinky jobs when in between scenes on a shared workday. This made a lot of sense and helped to make me feel more comfortable. Together, Brianna and I picked out her outfits for the day.

Along with Brianna was a friend, a hot blonde named Rachel Crawford, who went to the same college. Rachel was a pretty young woman who came upon invitation and wanted to watch Bree go through the motions first so she’d know what was expected. We were going to have lots of fun, especially since Michela accepted the olive branch offered by Brianna with Steve’s OK.

Such a pretty smile, lovely white knee socks, dark plaid skirt, and purple sleeveless sweater top, yes? Bright blue eyes, pretty straight blonde hair. Elbow bondage wasn’t deserved, but it was a nice touch to the usual TAC style of trussing up a girl. Michela did a fine job in my place, didn’t she? It’s almost like she started, did a rope or two, apologized for being a b-tch to Brianna in the past, and let me finish the job. Michela still shoved the 2.5 inch blue ball gag into Bree’s mouth.

I know I’ve described lots of shoots to you already, so most of it isn’t new. What’s special is the way Brianna, stage name Cleo Shockman, can twist her arms so well. Yes, before you ask, my girlfriend did enjoy pulling Brianna’s shirt up and eventually exposing her. Michela needed to be able to do these things outside sexual escapades to be more professional here and able to play our TUGs with other people who weren’t interested in sexual relations. That’s just reality.



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Interlude #104: The Big Move
Monday, April 05, 2010

One by one, each of the girls in Pod F, the second pod to be moved, was handcuffed with chains in the belt loops of their jumpsuits and shackled on their ankles. Kristina, Ashley, and Beatrice were on the move. It wasn't exciting, but it was a very different experience to walk out of their old home, climb into a prison van, peer out the windows as they drove, and arrive. One by one, the girls marched into the new Pod F and studied the sight with its green metal staircase and the big windows. The walls and floors were clean; the beds were new; the dual sink-toilets were all shiny. There was a gym and a real school. Maybe it was prison, but it was humane. That made a massive difference in the lives of many, many impressionable young girls, including me.

Wow, young Beatrice Maddux wrote to her parents, For the first time, coming home and trying to start a new life seems real and worthwhile. We’ll see after the Shak.

She smiled to herself. One thing permitted to her now as a III was the right to maintain a journal in which she wrote similar thoughts, adding in the privacy of her own mind (albeit also visible to prison employees) was this one positive thought: I finally desire to leave crime behind.

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Then came my turn to control things with Brianna from start to finish. What made it much more comfortable for me was that Brianna seemed relaxed now. Friendship wasn’t essential here, but it was good to be able to mutually respect each other as coworkers, just like I respected all of my coworkers at Best Buy without being friends with any of them except Ashley.

“Now, Hannah, are you really going to use that gag on me again? Mmmmph?”
“Yes, because you handled it so well last time!” I quite cheerfully explained my motive.

The U.S. Army shirt and the tight miniskirt with the belt were very chic, and we also kept those yummy knee socks. This time, however, I pulled white knee socks over her arms before I tied her up. Steve made a lot of fun suggestions for scenes, and this was one of them. Who said it had to be grueling to be work? This was like a staged TUG with the artistic aspect added to it. Brianna, Michela, Steve, and I saw it, but I suspect Rachel didn’t see it. She was silent from the moment I arrived, and I knew right then that this would be the last I ever saw of her.

“Michela, you’re thinking about Bea?” I saw right through my former and current cellmate.
“Yeah… Hannah, what makes her different from me? I’m uncomfortable with her situation.”
“Actually, nothing. The difference is that she sleeps with a boy and the differences with that.”
“That actually makes sense. Why did he do it? Why? Me. His little girl.”
“Maybe he doesn’t love Jesus like you do,” was the best attempt I ever made at answering her.
“I want to go ice skating this evening. Would you come with me, please?”

I smiled at Michela and walked over to Bree. We had lots of fun with this scene. We pulled up Bree’s shirt to show her bra, and then we put it back for no reason other than it was different and fun. If I had learned anything, it was to not be so uptight, to relax, and to enjoy my labors. The real fruit of my labors was the friendship and relationship that grew out of it.



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Interlude #105: Their New Homes
Thursday, April 08, 2010

“Well, this is an improvement for sure,” Bea stared out the window during recreation time.
“I feel like a freaking human for a change!” Kristine said it so plainly.
“What a novelty!” Ashley agreed with that sentiment, “I missed the sunlight.”

Routines, functional showers designed to be easily repaired in case of issues, bigger cells, bigger windows, better colors, and brand new Monopoly boards were just among some of the features of the new facility. Some of these were prison reform; some were pod angels; others were just as expected of a new facility.

It wasn't complete, but soon a new schedule was to come in what was determined to be a facility of the highest kind, a place that served for both corrections and rehabilitation and changed lives for the better. In the shadows lurked something sinister…

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I won’t beleaguer the point. Rachel Crawford was a one-and-done as Adrienne Jenkins. It was a good scene done well by someone who put in her 100% best effort, and you cannot tell that she’d disliked the experience from any of the pictures. Not everyone is willing to be a bondage model, and that’s OK. I made sure she understood that. The skirt and shirt were scrumptious on her, but this particular hottie-in-distress had had her fill after just one scene. Pretty and sweet.



And then, that evening, Michela, Luisa, Hannah, and I went skating, as Michela requested. Luisa wasn’t too shabby, but Hannah took to ice skates well, a natural. I’d never seen someone take to the ice like Hannah did, and we’re going to spend more time on the ice in Chapter 25! See you!

B

Chapter 24: Hottie, Hottie, Hottie
Saturday, July 25, 2015

Mmmmmmmm… carpet. OK, OK. I’ve decided that I’m going to wrap up this tale after we get to see Destiny’s modeling debut. The polls have been disappointing, and it throws my BPD way out of whack when I see literally 0 comments on some chapters. It’s been a fun journey, but I’m aborting the plan to go through my settling into my dorm room at Minnesota Tech. Introducing Destiny is a fair way to end that will bring the story to a smooth conclusion, anyway.

Anyway, this chapter opened with me just doing what I suggested: eating carpet. Yummy, sweet cunnilingus. Did I just say cunnilingus? Yeah, and I’ll say it again too. That’s carpet, after all. I am entertaining Kylie as the clock strikes 1 AM because I’m tied up at the moment, and Kylie is also tied up while eating Michela’s carpet. Mmmmmm… carpet. That’s a disgusting thought, isn’t it? I’m glad you find it revolting because I absolutely loved every second of the adventure.

Patricia Svensson is a lesser known part of the Kylie Svensson dynamic. Kylie has her brothers, but she also has her cousin, an only child, who was like an older sister to Kylie. Patty played in a few TUGs, but they weren’t to her what they were to Kylie. Still, Patty wanted to try her hand at Kylie’s line of work, and I was the one that Kylie wanted to be part of the session.

But I first went to breakfast with Ashley, Kendra, and Michela. Not that anyone cares about that because it's about people and not bondage. We ate and talked, and Kendra shared that she made up her mind to become a Catholic and started classes for it. That made me happy, and I told her how I’d manipulated Michela and Kylie into the threesome and felt bad about it.

“I’m proud of you, Hannah. You're admitting your faults and are ashamed of them.”

Kendra's words changed me for the better.

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Interlude #106: Kylie's Desperation
Tuesday, April 24, 2012

“I’m going to my cell for a minute. I’ll be back,” Kylie said to her cellmates.

WARNING: Kylie’s attempt on her own life is described below. “EEEEEEEEKKKKKK!” screamed one of the girls.
“Girls, go face the west wall. Now!” Mrs. Copley ordered them all.

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Patty and Kylie had wanted to do a scene where Kylie dominated Patty, including the rigging for the scene. That was a reasonable request given their relationship. They admitted as much when I asked, and I greeted them with hugs because it was a decent request. I’d made similar requests in the past. Still, how sweet of them to be so close and yet invite me into their dynamic! I didn't know it at a time, but I had met the girl who one day would be my go-to party coordinator. Since they were doing that scene first, I felt comfortable arriving late with Steve’s permission, and, oh, what hotties I saw tussling when I walked into the basement. Damn, two gorgeous babes!

Too bad for us, but all you care about is the damned photos anyway. Here you go. I could say a lot of good things about Kylie or how Patty became a friend who didn't stick to modeling without ever giving up her love of Kylie or their games, but why would I talk about people when the part I care about most is the part about which you all care the least? You know what? F-ck it. I’m writing for me and not for you anymore.



Next came Patty’s debut; she didn’t change for the scene, choosing instead to maintain the slight continuity between scenes. The teal sweater and black skirt with her seductive personality gave a natural “bad girl” vibe, but she could be just as sweet in reality. Cheesecake was being served in large hunks at Tied After Class today, and Steve Moreau was the master chef with Patty and Kylie being the sweet crust and yummy filling. Miniskirts with a hearty helping of bondage were the sweet topping that went on top of the thick, cheesy goodness.

“Your ropes, master,” Kylie sweetly motioned towards Steve’s bondage supplies.
“Thank you,” I curtsied since I was wearing a miniskirt today.

I can’t say enough good things about Kylie and Patty… as people. They’re still agnostic to this day, but Kylie, finally, saw the light a few months ago and realized that her nihilistic tendencies were glorified self-harm as a terrible coping mechanism with what happened in prison. She and I truly suffered in there, but the one who truly suffered the worst wasn’t here with us. I refuse to go that far off topic, though, because I realize the suffering we endured doesn’t bother you a bit.

Classic TAC bondage followed: ropes at Patty’s ankles, knees, and thighs. Wrists tied together behind her back. A simple, bust-projecting harness. And you know what? I thought she really was beautiful, with my eyes. Not my hormones. I could finally see beauty without it being a pure hormonally, sexually driven reaction. This was big for me. This point in my multi-year journey was the one that I learned to see people as fellow beings with lives and genuine meaning. I am sure such a revelation means nothing to you; you just want the photos so you can jerk off.

I handed yellow tape to Kylie, who playfully gagged someone who was more than just a cousin to her. We then stepped back and let Steve and Patty, stage name Audrina Clark, have the scene all to themselves. She was a natural, needing minimal instruction on how to pose for the photos. A star was in the making, but sadly she’d only appear at TAC 3 more times before retiring from the industry forever. I never did get an answer as to why she quit, and I respected that.

The usual stuff happened. She kicked her high heels off. She got on the floor. And then Kylie got to join the scene, doing things to her cousin like hand gagging, fondling her breasts, and even playfully kissing her all while just getting to be herself. There was a lot of laughter, but Patty did a great job of playing it straight until the scene was done, revealing her smile. What sweethearts!



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Interlude #107: Kylie's Talents
Tuesday, May 01, 2012

Kylie found an escape in the form of art. She wasn’t the greatest, but she was still really good. I had no trouble identifying her subjects, but she struggled a little with getting the colors to come out right. She mostly worked in black-and-white, and on this occasion before my arrival she did what anyone with a broken leg would do: do things that didn’t require a leg.

“There, our bandana-wearing beauty, how do you look?” she showed Ashley… Ashley!
“Well, well, well! I didn’t know I could look so cute,” Ashley smiled at the portrait, “Why me?”
“Because you move the least. I could get a good enough eye on you,” Kylie shrugged.
“Oh, but Kylie, it does look like me. You did so well,” the French girl’s eyes brightened.
“Thanks. You’ve been a good friend for me the last few days. It’s the least I can do.”

Kylie had finally found true friendship in prison. She also started to notice that her eyes were more and more focused on all the other girl’s figures.

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The next scene saw Patty change outfits while Kylie stayed in the same outfit. I tied Kylie in the exact same fashion with one difference: I added a ‘V’ of rope between the breasts of the harness, upon Steve’s requests. Since Kylie loved such things, Patty’s pantyhose from the last scene was stuffed into Kylie’s mouth and sealed in with double-sided tape and a green bandana OTM gag.

From the start with the cheesecake shots of Kylie posing on the floor without heels to the time I just described, with her bound and gagged, I admired the outfit in a new way. Yes, her navy and white striped long-sleeve shirt, brown pantyhose, and denim miniskirt were lovely, but there’s a lot to unpack here. I’m talking about something more. Kylie wore them with confidence, like an outfit like this was naturally what she would wear if you called on her at home with her family. I caught something else, too, in this scene: she seemed comfortable, like she did during our tryst in the bedroom last night. This was big and special: Kylie had found her happy spot in scenework. The dirty blondes were bringing out the best in each other, and Patty’s brown eyes showcased her affection for her cousin. How touching for Kylie to invite me to enter her family dynamic!

Steve captured everything in beautiful color. The face, the eyes, the figure, the struggle, the fun interaction between the cousins. Even better, he immortalized it in film, with Patty going so far as forcing Kylie to smell her own heels during the scene, which created a funny sight with Kylie trying to fight it all. There were so many good things to be said about this moment. What was it about these two? I couldn’t relate at all: my parents were both the only child in their home.



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Interlude #108: Kylie's Sexuality
Tuesday, May 08, 2012

Kylie slowly began to change with age. The events with Mr. Reardon and his gang morphed her to take a different look at the “fairer sex” despite belonging to it herself. In particular, she had an attraction to a girl she knew would not be interested in her affections: Jackie Martin. That’s a classic case; the one that makes you realize that you’re lesbian or bisexual is always straight.

“I once grappled to a second story window,” Jackie laughed, “But I’m not daring a bust out Nuh, uh! I turned myself in with a resolve to clean up my act, though the lack of visitors is awful.”
“Says the girl who broke another girl’s orbital bone!” one girl joked about Jackie’s reputation.
“I didn’t want to do it, but I ain’t a doormat!” snapped the reformed bandit.
“She just wants to be as pretty inside as out,” Kylie coyly complimented Jackie.
“Yeah, that! Thanks, Ky! As scary as it was when it happened, I like the new Kylie more.”

All Kylie did was blush.

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Watching Patty and Kylie made me realize how empty my life had been. To be legally disowned by my parents by the time it was certain I was going to prison as a 16 year old was one part when Kylie’s family only grew to love her more for her own, much more innocent, mistake of being an intermediary of an illegal substance. Yes, that simple. Kylie agreed to intervene between friends who were both junkies, and a jealous classmate got wind of it and ratted Kylie out so that the top brain in the classroom would be gone. It was the only time in Kylie’s life she’d so much as even looked at cocaine, and it was gleefully misused to get her sentenced to three years in prison.

My mom’s parents? Dead by the time I was 10. My grandma died when I was an infant, and my grandpa died the day before my 10th birthday. My dad’s parents? His dad was killed in Vietnam when my grandma was 21 and my dad was 2. Grandma never remarried and raised her son with a strong will, lovingly raising him in a strong, loving conservative Methodist community only to watch her son grow up to be a bigoted, militant atheist. I know I’m supposed to be talking about me, Kylie, and Patty in 2015, but it warms my heart to still have my grandma alive in 2025 and to say I named my first daughter Ruth in Grandma’s honor. Family has a twisted meaning to me.

“Hannah, are you crying?” Patty warmly asked me while maintaining a safe emotional distance.
“Yes,” I nodded while tying up Patty the same way I’d tied up Kylie in the last set.
“Let’s get lunch afterwards and talk,” she said with a kind tone, “My treat.”
“Thanks,” I didn’t realize I was crying because the tears were so subtly encroaching on me.
“Oh, you’re welcome. Kylie and I are here for you,” that smile was so warm.
“You’re a good person,” I then cleave gagged her with the pantyhose Kylie had worn before.

Yes, I know, you just want bondage. Fine. It’s just a repetition of before. It’s just two hot girls going at it as far as you’re concerned, but I really want to talk about my friends. Yes, Patty was, as Kylie would say, a hottie, and their interactions were adorable. What do adorable interactions mean to a common masturbator though? I don’t know because I never masturbated. On we go.




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Interlude #109: Kylie's Brothers
Tuesday, May 15, 2012

“Then let Patty enjoy all the flavors of her own medicine. Tell her it’s a gift from me,” Kylie told her brothers while they talked on the phone, “Guys, I’m really. I’m sorry for all the sadness I’ve brought you the last two weeks,” she paused and listened to their response, “The last few weeks, I took advantage of all that time on my hands to realize… I’m glad I’m your sister. Believe me, you guys… You suck. Horribly. Ha ha haaaaaa! Gosh, I love you boys. Yeah, make sure that it is good and tight. Yes, Patty deserves every inch of it. Love you guys. Good night.”

With that, Kylie used her crutch to walk to the table and join her friends for a game.

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The last scene was totally adorable with the black pantyhose, open heels, plaid skirt, and bright red sweater Kylie wore. We used tape to tie her legs and rope on her wrists and harness, and we stuffed Patty’s pantyhose in her mouth and sealed it with strips of tape. There was laughter and camaraderie and a whole host of other good, human, emotional things that don’t interest you or any other reader. We watched Kylie pose for the photos, and then I hogtied her and blindfolded her. But the blindfold was also duct tape. Then we watched her struggle for a 7 minute film.



I walked out of there with Kylie holding my left hand and Patty holding my right: as friends.

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Interlude #110: Kylie's Cousin
Thursday, May 17, 2012

“Good evening, Miss Patricia. Are you really an adult already?” Kylie asked her cousin.
“No, Kylie. I forged a fake ID and decided to use it to sneak into prison to visit you.”
“I’m positively charmed. I didn’t know you to be a naughty girl.”
“Ha!” Patty sat back, “Thanks to you, I now get routine snacks of salted cotton.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Patty,” Kylie leaned on the counter with her chin in her hands, “Next time it’ll be a nice red bandana for you to chew up, OK? Cheaper and less personal, but still your style.”
“No stuffing! I hate when the bird is stuffed!”

Yes, they talked about TUGs in code. It was fun, their secret. This was how Kylie kept playing even if she couldn’t physically play with her loved ones. They talked about a lot more than this, like Patty graduating high school, Kylie’s relief at her surviving the jump, and other topics. The conversation made Kylie realize just how much she had that was worth her life. It would be long and arduous, but Kylie won the battle with years of effort.

They weren’t just cousins; they were good friends.

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“I’m so sorry,” Patty grimaced when I told her my story, “That royally sucks. Poor baby!”

I nodded in acceptance of reality. Grandma never once abandoned me. She wrote letters, talked to me on the phone, and visited me. Hers was the only acknowledgement I got from my family. I only had her and my parents; but my parents changed their phone number and proceeded to live as if they were childless, even moving out of the house. They started from scratch without me. I was now glad I’d decided to accept Patty’s offer of lunch while we sat in the local Papa John’s.

“That’s monstrous,” Patty’s face showed utter contempt for my parents, “You should be glad that they’re out of your life. Hannah,” she was brutally honest, “That means they never loved you for a second. You were always just a trophy for them to parade around until it corroded.”

I knew that. I thought that. Michela had implied as much to me. Patty said it. In words without any softening of the blow. She told me exactly what I needed to hear someone say. Thinking it hadn’t been enough; for someone I’d just met 4 hours before completely flipped my world. That was a breakthrough for me, and my eyes expressed gratitude without even saying anything. The truth was that corroded objects can be polished, and Michela had carefully polished me. Now, I was getting a good buffing and a protective coating from Kylie and Patty.

“You’re welcome,” Patty reached across the table, and I let her take my hand and pat it gently.
“My girlfriend’s been telling me something like this for a long time, but I always dismissed it as a silly religious perspective,” I admitted, “But you put it into words that I could understand.”
“Hannah, I know we have the most wild trysts,” Kylie looked me in the eyes, “But I appreciate it more than I can put into words sometimes. You’re a true friend, and lots of our friends would be lost without you bringing us all together at first.”

I was going to soon witness such impacts firsthand, only I was going to be in Patty and Kylie’s position helping Destiny Reilly. That and ice skating are coming to you in Chapter 25, the happy conclusion to The Bondagettes of Pod F.

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Chapter 25: A Date with Destiny
Saturday, August 01, 2015

Destiny asked me to meet her at her family home on the northeastern outskirts of Mudville. She specified I come alone, and I already knew that it meant either something very serious or just an emotional release. Girls who just got out of prison don’t ask for one-on-one unless they’re back in the game or carrying something that is emotionally tormenting them. She promised we’d be getting lunch as well, but I saw right through her. I wasn’t expecting what I heard, though. It should have been a celebration of her return to life, and her family understood that she wanted to finally meet and touch one of the friends who had become closest to her by often visiting her.

“Hannah,” Destiny sighed and sat down, “In the Shak, it's a lot rougher than in juvie, for sure.”
“Oh,” I could tell something was on her mind, “I heard the stories from my clients.”
“Ya don't understand. She had a knife. I’m not lesbian, Hannah, and I don't like crotch juice.”
“Ohhhh… sh-t… Destiny,” I took her hand, “I’m so sorry,” and I felt her pain.
“Heh,” she tried to laugh it off, “She said I was faster at getting her wet than most. Next time, I beat her badly. I didn’t even know people did that, and having to do it to a total stranger…”
“Listen, if you want to talk, cry, vent, anything, I’m here.”
“The guards don't give a sh-t like they do in Juvie. I pounded the hell outta her when she tried to make me do it in front of her gang. I’m a gangster, Hannah, and I put the f-ckin’ fear of God in her and her little gang. They gave me a new cellie after, but she… Changed me for the worse. The cowardly psychopaths all stepped back when Destiny Reilly came through after that.”

Suddenly, it felt really odd to have a love of oral sex after realizing Destiny had been a victim in a very different way from the Reardon victims, me, or Michela. Sexual assault comes in many flavors, and the criminal justice system is rife with abuses in so many forms. Destiny, the kind of girl to punch you in the arm to greet you, warmly grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

Destiny poured out her heart. When she was 11, her dad suddenly dropped dead from a massive coronary despite being 34 and healthy. Genetics are an awful thing. She told me about going outside to find her father and seeing him lying still on the ground and how she desperately tried to give him CPR before running into the house with tears pouring down her cheeks. He had just gone outside to get the mail, and just like that her childhood had flipped upside down. A couple years later, her mother remarried to a man who, fortunately, recognized that he would never be a replacement for her father, but he also cared for her deeply and she for him. Nevertheless, there was a stir in her soul, and she hated his Baptist church and soon fell away from all religion.

“Here,” I handed her a bag, “Since you love hockey and are still a gangster at heart.”

It was nothing special. The bag contained some bandanas. What was different was that they had a classic western paisley pattern with different colors. So, on the red bandana, the pattern was in black; on the black ones, one had the pattern in red and one had it in both red and white; on the white one, the pattern was in red. It was perfect for a New Jersey Devils fan since, white, black, and red are the team’s colors. She had her preferred colors, but she only wore that Western style. Feminine yet tough. I didn’t know it yet, but by the end of the day Destiny was asking to meet my friends and become a Cool Girl. The CGC’s vows of unconditional love and friendship had again changed a life. Of course I would introduce her to my friends Casey, Nichole, and Jenny!

“Don’t tell anyone I said this,” Destiny gave me a wry grin, “I love you girls. You saved my life, and I won’t try to repay you for what you did. Without you girls, I’d have gone right back to my gangbangin’ without any second thoughts. You reminded me that people can care about me.”

And Destiny began to tell me of the impact that Michela and Ashley had on her while she was in juvie, before her transfer to Shakopee. The reawakening of interest in her Roman Catholic roots, as, after all, her dad was Irish Catholic and her mom was Sicilian Catholic. She told me of how she was already working back towards that with her mother and step-father’s approval despite it being just her first day “free from the pen.” It was the beginning of a three-year journey until a special day in 2018 when Destiny, Jackie Martin, Hannah Jones, Felice Pryce, and I were all in line to be confirmed as Roman Catholics. A whole lineup of girls 22-24 years old. What joy!

Today’s shoot involved Destiny as well as Taylor and a friend Taylor brought with her. Now, I have to give Taylor lots of credit. She so quickly got her own act together and was confirmed at the end of this calendar year, like Kendra was. The Sunday before Christmas was the day where they took their religious journeys to that point. Yes, we had an interesting cast of characters. It’s time for another day where a girl makes her one and only Tied After Class appearance; if Betsy McHugh, Taylor’s friend, didn’t impress me, then she didn’t impress our boss either.

Michela came along on the trip as an observer. Yes, the lot of us were preparing to start college in the fall, with Michela a freshman at St. Catherine’s, me a sophomore at Minnesota Tech, and Taylor and Destiny as freshmen at the University of Minnesota. Still, we had time for our own, the seeming anchors of our lives. Here I was, a walking conduit of healing for my friends.

We’d been through the wringer, and now we were able to find a sense of belonging again even if most would wrinkle their noses and look down at us for being bondage models. Some would just despise us if they knew that Mary-Ann in 2016 founded and still owns her own studio, Maddy Tied Her, where we make our own bondage films. Some say it’s fetish or erotica, and, yes, it must be marked as such on the site and in the videos we make, but we do it as escapism, healing, friendship, creativity, camaraderie, fun, and self-discovery. It’s not our fault that God made us in a way that we naturally enjoy the sensations of being bound and gagged and even tormented by a captor. We’ve developed healthy respects for our own psyches and each other’s boundaries. It is a complicated topic. Look, I’ll be exact just so you understand the main conflict that afflicts us.

The only part some of us cannot reconcile is frontal nudity. Boobs are both private and open. In some cultures, boobs aren’t hidden; in others, they are. When a mother breastfeeds in public, she has to at least partially expose herself. For us, it’s vulnerability and a gray area that we recognize as such. We respect that, but then again some girls like hair hogties without it being considered a sexual organ and therefore nudity even though hair hogties chops some girl’s orgasmic refractory period in half! Do you see how nuanced and layered and complicated this all is? You don’t care because I am talking about people and morals and not showing photos, right? I thought so.

“Destiny! Betsy, this is the girl I told you so much about being a tough cookie!” Taylor ran right up to Destiny and hugged her and then hugged me, “And this is Hannah, the bondagista.”
“Oh, hi!” Betsy shook my hand warmly, “I know her, Tay. She’s a regular at Dunkin’.”
“Ha ha! That’s right. So you two already know each other superficially. This’ll be fun!” there was a warm smile on Taylor’s face, “Great. Betsy, even if you don’t like it, I think you’ll find us all to be,” there were excited hand motions, “fun people.”

What a prophecy to make! The artificially black hair made it easy for me not to feel attraction to my local barista despite the cute outfits she and Taylor wore. I tied up Betsy in classic fashion to be tortured by Taylor, who hadn’t learned the ways of knots yet. But, you know what? Just look at the pictures. Betsy didn’t have fun, and you don’t care about people anyway. Just don’t let me or any of my friends know what you do when you’re looking at the pictures. Domestic terrorism was clearly Taylor’s strong point, though, because she played a very convincing lesbian sadist in spite of being straight as an arrow. Isn’t it funny how such things often work?



“Nope, not for me,” Betsy shook her head afterwards, “I see what you like, but I don’t.”
“No problem,” Taylor laughed, “But I asked only once, and you did try it! I appreciate that.”
“Thanks,” Betsy laughed too, ensuring the continuation of their friendship to this day.

And this led to me getting to bind and gag Taylor for her own scene right here in the living room of the Moreau’s house. Beige pants, white heels, and a red sweater were perfect for binding her wrists, tying a harness, and binding her legs in four places. A gag of red duct tape strips made an excellent way to silence the young woman. And there you have it since it’s all you want. Pardon me, but I’m going to breastfeed my daughter with the time that I would have otherwise spent on this particular scene. Unlike you, she appreciates my emotions and story craft.



That’s right, Michela Arcangela Ralston. It took me a lot of work to convince Daddy to become a Roman Catholic, but he did. I’m so glad he did because I wouldn’t have married him without that. God, kid, those teeth hurt like hell. It’s kind of funny to marry a guy who plays TUGs and whose sisters are now also bondage models and be afraid of being tied up by him. Yes, funny it is, isn’t? Ruth Kendra Ralston, you’re not supposed to eat your storybooks!

While I worry about people, you look at these photos of Taylor bound, gagged, hogtied, and gagged with shiny gray duct tape. It was the most fun she’d had in a scene yet, and we laughed a lot during that one. Oh, I still remember her taking the tape off and saying “Well, Hannah, you’d make a good grunt if I decided to become a professional kidnapper.” Her smile was genuine, and that day, despite the disappointment with Betsy, solidified her place as a bondage model.



I love Landon, to be clear. He’s my husband, and I wouldn’t have had a shotgun wedding unless I loved him. It’s just that prison experiences left me afraid of being tied up by men, and I won’t let him tie me up unless some girls are there and free, and then it’s vanilla. It’s nothing personal against him. I’ve been tied by Landon, Kendra’s husband, Mary-Ann’s husband, one of Kylie’s brothers, and several other men for work and play, including Lew Rubens and David Andrews, but I can’t do that with ropes involved or be alone with only men in bondage or TUGs.

“All right, Destiny,” I asked her after she was already completely tied up, “Modeling name?”
“Destiny,” she shrugged, “I like my name too much to use an alias. Destiny Child!”
“That’s it then. Let it be as though it were written in stone,” Taylor cheered her on.

That blue top and the brightly colored checkered (sort of, since there were many colors) skirts were a Tied After Class classic, and she received the classic bondage of three ropes on her legs, wrist bondage, and a harness after the most confident cheesecake shots you’d seen in your life. A black fabric cleave gag was a fair way to start things off, and her body language had tons of pride in this moment. I could see it in her eyes—happiness—she liked bondage already.

Destiny, like many of us, started college at the end of this August, at the University of Minnesota as part of reclaiming her life. I was joining many Cool Girls at Minnesota Tech this month. By the end of August, Destiny was a Cool Girl, and by the end of September she’d founded the first satellite chapter of the Minnesota Tech bondage pseudo-sorority, Tau Iota Epsilon.



“That was such fun,” Destiny said afterwards, “I even liked Steve’s comments about my toes.”
“Had to get a foot comment in there, did you?” I turned to our kindly employer with a grin.
“It’s true,” he shrugged with a smile, “She has great feet and naturally knows how to show off.”

It was like she was a child of destiny indeed, chosen by God to meet with these three circles of friendship that ended up becoming the primary presence in her life. I’m humbled that she’s such a girl for backhanded compliments because the more backhanded the compliment the more she’s trying to say something nice without feeding your ego. She’s playfully self-aggrandizing, too, as if she’s the star of the show in her scenes, and she deserves the stardom too. Being dominatrix in her scenes was always a treat, and on the occasions I still get to do it I always enjoy it.

Taylor’s next scene saw her just in underwear and pantyhose and roped. A white bandana cleave gag started it off, and I censored the bra in some shots for being skimpy. She was first encased in a pair of pantyhose, then OTM gagged with pantyhose, and finally blindfolded with pantyhose. I will leave it at that. Here are the pictures that you want so badly instead of my chatter.



Oh, frig it, here’s Destiny’s next scene too. I’ve actually got an engagement with Destiny for this evening. Yes, after the kids are in bed, we’re going into the basement to bind and gag Destiny to film the occasion, and we’ll revel in each other’s friendship, too. She was hot, and she had fun at the same time. You can’t ask for more from a scene, can you? Nope.



“Gosh, Hannah, that was fun,” Destiny said when we left, “I felt like my presence was desired.”
“That makes me glad to hear! And you, Tay?” I asked our third member.
“I like Steve, and I love you two. What more could I want in my reformed life?” she smiled.
“Look I know the perfect way to celebrate our friendship. Tomorrow, OK?”

And with that, the group known as the “Bondagettes of Pod F” had found itself. Friendship was abounding, and new connections were formed. Healing was happening, and meaning was being discovered. We had our lives back. We were no longer just former inmates; we were people just like you again. We were human after all! What a beautiful thing! What joy!

And that was what mattered. Maybe I’ll see you in another story; maybe I won’t. We’ll see.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading my story of redemption, second chances, friendship, and self-discovery.

THE END

Thank you for writing it, so we could have the pleasure of reading it.

LunaDog wrote: 2 months ago Thank you for writing it, so we could have the pleasure of reading it.

I concur - you created a great Set of Characters here. Very well done. Nice Choice of Pictures!

Incredible story!!