Stories of Tie Up Games

023.

"I." Pausing, fraying at the edges and that can't be helped. I, can't help her: Sarah, glancing from me down to the train ticket in her hand, back. "Don't understand?"

"Don't you want to see me?" Into the silence, because I'm finding words hard, because part of me still thinks saying goodbye is stupid. Way too sensible for gung ho and damn the consequences me, however.

It isn't all about me.

"You know I do." Shaking my head, smile leaking out which brings Sarah's on too, because she's seen me staring just as I've seen her, but even so.

"Listen." Steering her towards a Starbucks, silent, patient in line and maybe it's only Sarah being a good slave, not speaking because I said- read: she's been told to -listen, or maybe she realises this isn't a conversation to have within earshot of others. Regardless, I order coffee to go for us both, and we go find an abandoned- a dead end, some kind of once an hour branch line -platform, empty benches along the length, finding a spot in the sun.

Soaking in the warmth, smell and taste of coffee, Sarah listening whilst I ramble an explanation.

It comes down to trust, more specifically a complete lack of trust in myself, because I know me, and I live, thrive on the extremes. A life lived fast, plunging in and forging ahead, worry later, enjoy now.

"Basically there are two ways this will go." Like I've already lived it, the voice of experience as though I were some old hand, the veteran schooling the rookie.

First: Sarah remaining my slave. Which she already wants, and that desire, her willingness to submit without my even having to ask slash demand, I can see- prophet like -my own acceptance of the fact, owning the mantle of owner. And I'd be good, minimal punishment, easy to follow rules. I'd even help cook and clean.

But she'd still be my slave, collared, kept. And I won't do that to Sarah.

Second: a reversal. There are several paths we could walk, no one true route towards freeing Sarah, not only from slavery but from the conditioning too, the mental state of ownership. But- prophet like, again, because I know who and what I am -chances are high that my chosen method would wind up reversing the roles, attempting to show Sarah the other side, letting her boss and control me as a means of breaking her cycle.

Sarah having a high chance of enjoying the fact, in large part because I make a really fucking good submissive, which means I'd enjoy the fact too. And within a couple of months, likely less, I'll be Sarah's slave, and we'll both still be screwed. Trapped.

Nodding, set of her mouth including the occasional smile telling me she understands, that Sarah can see the run of my logic. That she'd perhaps like to walk the road too, but that she agrees, too, with the danger of either outcome, long term, on the basis part of her doesn't want to be a slave.

A small part, Sarah suffering it seems as I do: a general lack of self preservation, a willingness to play first and ask later, although with her chances are high it's more down to a somewhat broken mental state, trained to submit to the point she actively wants it.

Maybe she only agrees because she's my slave, being good and following commands. Leaving because I tell her to leave?

"Guess we'll find out." I muse, waving her train off. Going home, but Sarah still works at Port West, where I live. We'll cross paths again, likely soon, at which point I'll attempt to treat it like a fresh start.

No slave. No ownership.

And based on how I find Sarah, we'll move forward from there.

Back to life. Back to what passes for reality in my world. Back to the woodland, no rest for- a Ranger -the wicked.

Edward finds me two weeks later.

"You fucking-" Dropping the- still running -chainsaw and throwing myself at Edward. The wanker. The apparently blissfully unawares idiot, and it's either that or the man has a serious death wish. And I don't think he does. Grunting as my shoulder connects with an unexpectedly solid chest, arm wrapping around and gripping the back of his shirt, using my sudden burst of speed to throw us both clear of the rapidly falling beech.

Rush of air, death passing inches off my flank, blowing a kiss. Crunch as several tonne of tree hits the uneven ground, bouncing, settling.

"Edward." Standing over him, not giving ground as Edward picks himself up, half a scowl at either my rough treatment or my tone but, fuck him. Be dead if I hadn't.

"You. Do, not." Pausing to flip up the helmets mesh visor, shift the ear defenders up and back. "Didn't you see the fucking sign?"
"Didn't you see me?"
"Fuck off." Mad, adrenaline coursing, feeling half jumpy with the sloshing of it around my system, how close I'd just come to killing this idiot.

And it would be my fault, is the worst. Signs out, and me looking, due diligence before each tree felled, left and right and left again as though crossing some imagined road. Checking the site is clear before that final, irreversible cut. And yet still, if the tree were to hit, injure or maim or kill, it's my hand on the saw, my failure.

Fucking.

"Could've killed you." Stepping back, shaking my head all the fight dropping out of me, turning my back on Edward and rounding the downed beech to fetch up my saw, shutting the juddering death machine down and returning, finding Edward somewhat more composed too, a glance at the tree, a shiver.

Small nod for me and he gets it.

So I take a breath, pull off my helmet and take a drink of water. Start again.

"You're here for me?"
"Yes." Another nod, grateful to be back on familiar ground, no longer being shouted down by a technical- to him -subordinate. "Victor Kilo have need of your services again, Brooke."
"Cool."

"Yes." Small grimace, annoyance perhaps at my lack of conversation, that he's forced to carry this, that I'm not instantly jumping- sycophant like -to be his little yes girl. "We've matters to discuss, if you could come in."
"To your office?"
"Yes."
"And." Coughing out a laugh, what the fuck? "You couldn't ring, email the appointment request instead?"

Realising as I speak that he's looking at me, a specific kind of look and.

Does Edward, like me?

All fairness I did- flash of rage but still, and to some that could only serve to heighten the attraction -expose myself to him, full frontal, slim tanned frame and perfectly rounded canons. Maybe not like, as in love, but it's definitely possible that Edward, corporate man and from his attitude used to getting his way, what he wants.

It's possible what Edward wants is me, in some capacity, and so rather then email he decided to drive- be driven, probably high enough up the chain for a chauffeur -out here for another look at the goods.

Brief smile, twitch of my hand as I consider granting the unspoken and possibly wrong anyway request.

"When?"
"Today."
"No." Shaking my head, pointing up at the sky, the hot beating down sun as though that were explanation enough. "Got at least four more hours of good light, after which I'll be returning to my hotel." To eat a dinner I'll barely taste, to fall asleep- corpse like, so fucking wasted -post shower, or without showering if I'm that tired.

"Headquarters isn't far. Brooke."
"I'm not a fucking child, Edward." Because his tone implies different, that I am, that I can be bullied and directed.

Following which- submissive, or possibly I just don't care enough to fight him -I cave, nodding.

"Can't be there until twenty-hundred."
"Perfect." Nod of his own, and a small- likes me, happy to win, who knows -smile flitting across his face. "I'll be in my office."
"Fine." Waved gesture, like pushing him away: fuck off and let me work, turning back to and picking up the chainsaw, already mentally rearranging my evening.

Late dinner, possibly no dinner, almost certainly no shower.

Spending the afternoon periodically wondering at what awaits me, pondering the chances of my being right, and what that could mean? Because I, definitely, like girls, so if Edward plans on wooing or otherwise making a play for me, not a chance.

024.

Unwilling to face Edward both looking and feeling wasted, unable- lacking the time -to return to my hotel and shower, change, I opt for affecting what I can: hunger, pulling into Burger King and devouring a Chicken Royale but foregoing the chips, not wanting to be bloated. Opting for a rare full fat Pepsi.

The result being that I arrive outside V.K alert, wired. Ready for another round, Edward's casual superiority clashing with my often aggressive refusal to tow the line.

Purple spandex shorts, because it's been a hot day both in terms of the sun and the workload. Shorts too because I've spent the whole day in, am still wearing my chaps now: navy blue and fully enclosing both legs to the knee, sealed by a zip at the rear. Front protection- the fabric is padded, an inner layer of anti chainsaw wool like mesh -only on the upper legs, the chaps attach to a belt around my waist, upon which I'd threaded in the sheath for my billhook knife too, at the small of my back.

Black sports bra beneath a grey cropped vest top, although now with work stopped, shivering at the lack of expended energy I've shrugged the works dark green waterproof on. Hair bound back but escaping in several places.

And across from me, not- fucking games -rising from behind his desk as I enter the office: Edward, oozing clean, the smell of him wafting, clean white shirt and black trousers, expensive watch on the left wrist. Office still looking bland to my eye and tastes, probably tracking mud across his expensive carpet from my black steel toed boots, dropping sawdust from hair and exposed skin at belly and arms with each movement.

The thought: making his little oasis dirty, is enough to raise a smile.

"Brooke?"
"Nothing." Running both hands through my hair, pulling out the loosely knotted leather thong, resisting the urge to shake myself like a dog in from her walk.

Glancing around and.

"I am not." Tone dropping from playful to firm, not bothering to point and besides Edward glances up, seeing where my eyes have tracked. "Dressing up for you."
"Contractually." An easy shrug, poker face. "You have to."
"Not in that I don't." Softening my tone, not my planted stance, small shake of my head. "Can't see it catching on, can't see it keeping me, any Forestry Commission worker safe." Snort of laughter. "Or warm."

"Regardless." Tapping his pen against the desk. "Contractually, you're required to attend the South Western Exposition, and so you shall. And."

Pausing, almost offering me the chance to interrupt, which is precisely why I stay still, quiet.

Grinning internally as a scowl crosses his face.

"You're under contract to the Forestry Commission, and therefore by way of release to Victor Kilo, we require both your attendance and your participation."
"No."
"No?"
"No."

Which sits between us, Edward glancing at his computer screen, which I can't see from this angle so can't say whether it's any help. For my part, I already know I'll help, because fuck it why not.

Hi, I'm Brooke slash Plymouth, always on the lookout for my next installment of trouble.

I'll help, I just don't feel inclined to make it easy for the good people at Victor Kilo, specifically Edward.

"This isn't Forestry Commission work." Explaining, breaking the silence and I don't care if that loses me points. Some of us don't have all night. "This is Plymouth work, so." Holding up a hand to stall whatever Edward had been about to say, a nod as he sits back, waiting. "I'll do it, but you'll have to pay me."

"So." Giving me a- worryingly calculating -look. "If I want you at South Western Exposition, I have to hire Plymouth, rather then engaging Brooke's services?"
"Basically." Nodding, sure there's now a trap, somewhere, but not seeing it.

"How much?"
"To wear that?"
"For three days."
"Three."
"In Munich."
"And you'll cover my travel."
"And your hotel." Waving the fact away, an irrelevance. "Meals."
"Right." Thinking, but mostly making a show of the fact, I've negotiated enough by this point, myself as the offered commodity, my time either as bondage model or- occasionally -escort. I've got a fairly fixed pricing structure, perhaps a little low but I enjoy the work, so fuck it.

"My fee." Having approached the desk, taking the pen from Edward's un-resisting fingers, leaning over to scribble on the nearest sheet of blank paper. Aware as I do that: the angles, the proximity, I'm dangling my F cups within easy reach.

Twitch of his hand, such a small movement but my lips twitch in response.

Three days, I'd guessed at seven hours per day, ten until seventeen-hundred. Twenty one hours and despite my low base rate it's still a big number I've written.

"Agreed."
"Good." Masking the surprise, Edward the corporate player folding without a fight, feeling a little rush inside, happy. Feeling playful and a little flirty, feeling the game opening up.

Walking back to the small table, tapping it with my boot, drawing attention to the outfit resting atop the smooth wood.

"You'll want a visual demonstration."
"To confirm correct fit." Matching me, play for play. "Yes."
"Okay."

Edward's eyes on me as I strip, not bothering to ask after bathroom location, whether he wants the demonstration now, or sent via email attachment later. Not facing him, not always, not making this a strip 'for him' specifically, only the fact he's in the room, voyeur like. The fact of him watching giving me all kinds of tingles.

The ever shifting powerplay between us.

Clothes off, removed and tossed onto the nearest armchair, four of them making a circle of the table. Boots left on the floor, socks still inside. Naked, boyshorts and bra removed for good reason: the outfit is too tight, too clinging. It'll easily reveal even the small bulge and line of underwear worn beneath.

So no underwear.

Turning my attention briefly to Edward, full frontal standing casually hands by my side, a little smile for him. Pure Plymouth, waiting for- imagined -ropes and again he twitches. Another point to me.

The outfit is dark grey, matt gunmetal, a spandex one piece, total coverage from ankles and wrists to the neck. Discreet front zip running upwards from the crotch, 'V.K. Supplies' running along the left arm, left leg, words picked out in roughly the same shade of blue as my hair.

Edward, by my reckoning, doing his homework.

"No shoes?" Standing straight, having just pulled the zip tight, having made a big show along the way of arranging my canons whilst putting them away and the one piece is tight. Very tight, hugging every dip and curve of me, and a slim frame with a big chest makes for lots of curves.

My F cups are rather obvious, nipples showing as two small bumps.

Looking across to Edward, laughter bubbling out of me at his half confused half dismayed expression: forgot to think of footwear, too busy- potentially -mentally pouring me into the spandex catsuit.

Certainly can't keep his eyes off me, in part my fault, changing in full view, giving him that full view.

"S' okay." A shrug. "I've got boots that'll work."
"Not company boots."
"Heeled boots." Nodding, knowing he'd want something more feminine. Despite V.K do supply some of the boots I've got access to at the Forestry Commission.

"Well." Stood, having moved to open ground, centre of the quite large office, doing slow turns left then right. Modelling the outfit, showing Edward all my best sides.

Mostly my front, although I've been told my butt is pretty good too: firm, apparently, and pert.

"Will this." Almost dangling, myself on the hook and a small smile. "Be all?"
"Not quite."
"They won't let you tie me up." Taking a guess, Edward's small frown- upset perhaps at how see through he is -confirming the fact. "Not at a 'normal' convention."

Doing the air quotes, seeing a small confident smile on Edward's face, gesture like brushing some irritating dust off one arm.

"Let me worry about the details."
"Sure." Easy shrug masking the sudden breakout of happy nerves in my belly, the unexpected turn, the slide from Brooke down into Plymouth and now I'm up for- almost, though it's such a small list -anything.

"Going to cost though."
"I'll double your fee."

Not we'll, the company, the plural, but I'll. Him, Edward making it personal, on some level clearly wanting to own me, to have me. To win some form of the fight we seem to play out.

And I could tell him that paying to bind me isn't a win, but fuck it, he'll figure it out. First time he attempts to control me without a paycheck, he'll figure it out.

"Done." Wouldn't technically cost double, from something like escorting, adding bondage but it isn't a shoot so I don't need double. But I'm not telling Edward that, not in this game of winning we play.

"Will you want to practice?"
"Cost me more will it?" Smiling, teasing me back, playing. "To bind you now?"
"It will." Walking, strutting across the room and perching on his desk, on the corner one leg up underneath me, the other dangling and gently swinging. Facing Edward. Waiting.

"Fifteen hundred."
"To bind me now?" Which, part of me is aware I'm skirting and dancing into a different kind of escort territory. But I've done that before too. Rarely but I have.

Trevor being a good example. A better man you'd not meet, who enjoys my- paid -company on occasion, for a weekend or three days, during which I'm mostly kept chained up, giving blowjobs and wanks as required.

Fun times, and therefore I'm no stranger to this.

"Sure." And for that, fifteen hundred pounds just to bind me. For that princely sum Edward could fuck me too. But I won't offer the fact. Leaning forward, breasts coming close and him not pulling back, letting an F cup brush against his arm, spandex to the silk of his shirt. Tapping a key to wake his monitor up. "Transfer it."

Edward standing, by way of reply. Crossing the room to a small safe, sat in one corner. Hunkering down and spinning the combination, taking out a wad of bills, counting off some and putting the rest away. Returning with both my payment and several coiled ropes.

Planning this?

Putting the fee on his desk and taking my hand, to which I come willingly, allowing Edward to walk us both across the room, back to the low table.

"Kneel." Guiding me onto the table. "Face my desk."

To which I nod, insides gone to something like jelly, voice won't come out firm so I don't try. Kneeling, legs folded like a frog, spread out left and right so my butt almost touches the smooth wood. Arms held loosely behind, hand clasping hand. Facing forward. Waiting, being a doll, limbs floppy or ridged as required, letting Edward work.

Wrists, tied off underneath the table and halfway tethering me in place. Binding my legs, upper thigh to ankle each separate, rope forced through the non existent gap at my bent knees and tied off to separate front table legs, ankles bound underneath the table.

I'm now completely tethered, breathing a little fast and unable to stop the obvious show of arousal, nipples no longer small bumps, now twin points, stabbing out.

Binding my chest, rope above and below, diving down off one shoulder and back up over the other, breasts squeezed from all sides. Gagging me too, using rope and a small hesitation, Edward having wrapped the rope around my face, pausing.

Small jump, surprise perhaps as I open wide, allowing him to press and tighten the rope in my mouth. Binding my hair too, somehow. Feeling the rope twisting and catching there, Edward securing my head back down to the table, pinning me in place, head up and locked facing forward.

Facing, my whole self now facing his desk.

Looking awful pleased with himself, walking left then right, left again. Pausing to admire the ropework and doubtless my body too. Edward.

Who unfortunately sucks at bondage.

Only a small squirm, making myself comfortable, little moan as I shift inside the ropes, expecting to meet harsh resistance, expecting my squirm to come to nothing more then bouncing canons and Edward's smile cranking another dozen notches.

Instead though, I shift, and half the ropes either loosen or completely fall off.

"Oh."
"Ah." Looking upset, to the point I fight down the laughter, because the whole thing is hilarious, and really Edward ought to be able to see that side too. Except he can't, because instead of a bound- he probably hoped -defeated Plymouth, here I am, free, trying hard not to laugh.

"Guess I'll be going then?" Because even if I offered to kneel back down, Edward doesn't look in the right mental state to go again. And I could help: talk him through a complete and proper immobilising of me, step by step. But I can see he isn't in the mood.

Collecting up my stuff, figuring to go find a ladies and I'm vaguely aware of where to go looking for one. Probably a little too much if I strip in front of him again, like dangling the reward after he's lost and no, Edward didn't get me if he'd won.

Or at least I don't think he would, get me, in any fashion?

"You...."
"No." Shaking my head, back behind his desk and looking somewhat lost, plans all crashed and maybe he isn't often defeated. Halfway to the door, stopped and turning to find Edward prodding the stack of bills: my payment.

"Keep it." Trying on a friendly smile. "Yes, technically you tied me, but not for long, and-"
"-Not very fucking well."
"No." Definitely annoyed at himself, the sight making me wonder if there had been something more then wanting to see me in the outfit, bind me in the outfit.

Waiting, but Edward's attention has shifted, focus on his work and mentally shutting me out. So I nod, tip him and silent salute and go change.

Back in the van, back to the hotel.

I see, I have to do some serious catching up

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago Damn but I've dropped off the map/radar

Sorry, won't go into a long winded explanation, how and why and what. But I am sorry.

Understand the sentiment, although I would not say that you owe anyone an apology for briefly pausing in producing writing which is free for anyone to enjoy.

But glad to see you back at it

-

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago It isn't all about me.

Indeed. I have really enjoyed reading how she handles this situation, especially given how much she draws from her own experiences (and challenges) with bondage and submission (and her relationship with it).

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago Sarah having a high chance of enjoying the fact, in large part because I make a really fucking good submissive, which means I'd enjoy the fact too. And within a couple of months, likely less, I'll be Sarah's slave, and we'll both still be screwed. Trapped.

Trapped in the bonds (hah) of their mutual desires.

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago Maybe she only agrees because she's my slave, being good and following commands. Leaving because I tell her to leave?

Ah and now you are making the mistake of thinking a little *too* much about it, Brooke

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago Grunting as my shoulder connects with an unexpectedly solid chest, arm wrapping around and gripping the back of his shirt, using my sudden burst of speed to throw us both clear of the rapidly falling beech.

Under entirely different circumstances, could have been a sort of romantic moment. Honestly curious if that was the intention (ie a sort of parody), although I suspect the goal was more to show him being 'in her territory', where he is outside his comfort zone but still swaggers around as if he is fully in control and invulnerable to consequences.

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago For my part, I already know I'll help, because fuck it why not.

Hi, I'm Brooke slash Plymouth, always on the lookout for my next installment of trouble.

I'll help, I just don't feel inclined to make it easy for the good people at Victor Kilo, specifically Edward.

Hey, fair is fair - if he gets to play games, so does Brooke

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago The ever shifting powerplay between us.

Indeed - a pleasure to read.

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago And I could tell him that paying to bind me isn't a win, but fuck it, he'll figure it out.

In his defense (to play devil's advocate), he spends all his time in a world where money is both power, and the measure of an individual. When one is immersed in that culture (or any specific culture), it is often hard to remember that other world views exist.

Still an idiot, of course, as Brooke rightfully points out, but at least he has better reasons for his foolishness then most

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago Pausing to admire the ropework and doubtless my body too. Edward.

Who unfortunately sucks at bondage.

Only a small squirm, making myself comfortable, little moan as I shift inside the ropes, expecting to meet harsh resistance, expecting my squirm to come to nothing more then bouncing canons and Edward's smile cranking another dozen notches.

Seems he did not learn his lesson from the forest - he lacks the knowledge to be competent/powerful in Brooke/Plymouth's world. In fact, about the only thing that transfers over is his overabundance of self confidence

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago "Keep it." Trying on a friendly smile. "Yes, technically you tied me, but not for long, and-"

It does not count as *real* bondage if it is not for keeps, after all (at least in Plymouth's world!)

BlissfulMisery wrote: 2 weeks ago But glad to see you back at it

Still misfiring on occasion, but back

BlissfulMisery wrote: 2 weeks ago

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago Sarah having a high chance of enjoying the fact, in large part because I make a really fucking good submissive, which means I'd enjoy the fact too. And within a couple of months, likely less, I'll be Sarah's slave, and we'll both still be screwed. Trapped.

Trapped in the bonds (hah) of their mutual desires.

Was tempted to write this, at first. Before life or whatever came along and temporarily took the wind from my sails. Grand plans were being thought up: Plymouth submitting to Sarah, some deep dive.

Doesn't- this semi ending -mean I can't bring Sarah back, for something. But at least should I move on there is an ending that makes sense

BlissfulMisery wrote: 2 weeks ago

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago Grunting as my shoulder connects with an unexpectedly solid chest, arm wrapping around and gripping the back of his shirt, using my sudden burst of speed to throw us both clear of the rapidly falling beech.

Under entirely different circumstances, could have been a sort of romantic moment. Honestly curious if that was the intention (ie a sort of parody)

In parts, yes.

Ultimately nothing can come of Edward/Brooke, because she prefers girls. But the intention here was to do a sort of romantic angle, Brooke noticing Edward as a person in that moment, the manly bulk of him and so on....

Following which she shouted at him

BlissfulMisery wrote: 2 weeks ago
Hey, fair is fair - if he gets to play games, so does Brooke

Indeed Will have to see where this shifting powerplay winds up.

Interlude.
The Wedding.

"Fancy."
"Isn't it." Nodding, smiling. Because it both is and isn't, her tone indicating awareness of the fact.

"Wedding?"

Which shouldn't be a question, gaze sliding right, curious at who might be- knowingly or otherwise -interloping.

Unfamiliar, which isn't saying much given the only people I definitely know at Daniel and Shauna's wedding, are Daniel and Shauna. We've bondage, Carnival, strong connections but beyond that it's different circles.

She's of an age with me, this stranger who could be a guest. Twenty something, a high number? Curvy twelve to my toned eight, the more natural hump and slight swell of B cups, beside which my canons sit, making up the shortfall you could argue.

Flash of the thought tugging my lips into a smile.

Interesting hair: a shaggy style, black undercut with bright red, my own dyed blue and shaved on the left side.

Not dressed for a wedding: large black hikers backpack for a start, slung casually over one shoulder, pink water bottle hanging off a carabiner, dangling off the bottom corner. Mud streaked brown leather walking boots and faded blue denim shorts, black 'Metallica' cropped tee and I'm pretty sure she's braless beneath. Wide brimmed brown leather hat.

"And who are you supposed to be?"
"Chief bridesmaid." With a twirl, because why not. Ankle length hem of my purple dress flaring slightly, left leg briefly slipping free, the whole length slit, skin and ink exposed. Plunging neckline and sleeveless. I'm braless too, the canons are enhanced and perfectly capable of remaining pert unaided, however the tightly cinched black underbust corset doesn't hurt.

To clarify, it hurts, a little, but fuck it.

Chunky black knee high lace up boots, a black top hat perched at a somewhat rakish angle completing that goth aesthetic, because everyone here is dressed alternatively, this being a Wiccan ceremony.

In Glastonbury, which aside from possibly Whitby I can't think of anywhere better suited.

"You?"
"I'm...."

Seeing it as I come back around, from the- flirty, I guess, unable as always to help myself -twirl. Voice trailing off and the back end of shock across her face. Recognition. Of me.

Plymouth.

Isn't the first time, despite or perhaps because of my sparse workload, definitely I'd say because of how little I actually shoot compared to most models, who do this full time. The point being: I'm popular, recognised on occasion for being Plymouth, which- Kira -it's pleasant, a warm rush and a little tingle, knowing they've seen, most likely cum to the sights and sounds I make.

Bound and gagged.

Which isn't to imply I'm famous on Hollywood levels. To say I'm recognised translates to a half dozen times a year, on average. And half of those only if I attend a fetish convention or bondage fayre. Blackpool, The Carnival of Chains limited run out of Wickwar resort. That summer, walking the city with Fayth, enjoying the northern sun, obviously I was spotted more often.

A local celebrity, within a small niche field, for awhile.

So, this stranger. This, attractive stranger, knows what I'm hiding beneath the pretense of normal Brooke. So what? Is the point, like always I'll roll with it, see where this leads.

"You aren't exactly dressed for a wedding."
"No." Shaking herself, visibly dropping back into the world, blinking and refocusing on me. Small flashed smile which I return. "I'd make a crap spy."

"I could." Glancing around, taking off and replacing her hat. "Change?"
"Got the required outfit do we?"
"Must have something posh." Nodding, having glanced round at her oversized pack, another sweep of the room. "Any toilets?"
"Toilets?"
"Yes."
"In a pub."
"Yes." Giving me a blank look, little frustration leaking in which destroys my ability to hide the smile, the humour.

Blinking, her own thoughts visibly working, backtracking and realising the stupidity of asking whether a pub has toilets.

"Ha." But smiling. "Very funny."
"I try."
"Yes I'm sure." Giving me a- first -obvious up and down look, checking me out. "Going to help a girl out, show me the way?"
"Better." Little internal flush at the double meaning there: help her out, show her the way. Bad flirting but still, it's a dangled hook, maybe.

"See Zakk over there?"
"Who?"
"Zakk." Catching Zakk's eye, giving him my best Plymouth: cheeky smile and a wave, making him blush. "The one blushing."
"Boyfriend?"
"Wouldn't be blushing if he were." Honest. Im being a tease, to Zakk, Daniel's best man who won't be sleeping with prefers girls me tonight, breaking that sort of but not really wedding tradition of the groomsmen and bridesmaids getting it on.

Zakk, cutting out some details, owns amongst other things a rather impressive hedge maze, which he occasionally loans out to Daniel. It's the maze I was chased through, bound- above the waist -and gagged whilst wearing not much. To this day my best, most fun video. And Zakk having a ringside seat, of me.

And because it'd been a rope day, I'd been in playful mood, flirting and teasing my way along.

"Zakk has my room key."
"Zakk." Frowning at me, trying hard to see the logic. "Who you aren't dating."
"A wonderful man." Incase she's interested, and you're welcome Zakk. "But not my type."
"No."
"He's a smelly boy."
"Right." Laughing, bubbling up at my comment and mock screwed up face. "Yeah," nodding, "me too."

Blinking, realisation of what we've just established sitting there in the close space between us. Giving me another obvious up and down, finding a confident smile on my face as she looks up, trying on one of her own too match.

"Can't keep hold of my own key." Easy shrug. "And Zakk's a-"
"-Wonderful man. Right."
"Go change in my room." My turn, about fucking time her little smile says, to give her a down up appraisal, small flex from her, chest thrusting. Inviting. "Leave your pack there." Locking eyes, feeling a jolt, seeing it travel through her. Earthing out.

"If you want?"
"You know." Taking a half step closer, lifted eyebrows as I stand firm. Reaching out to tuck a rouge lock of hair back off my face. "I think I do. Want."
"Good." Tongue flickering out, sliding across my top lip. "Be a shame...."
"A shame." Nodding, agreeing despite neither of us is particularly clarifying much.

Taking a final moment to smile at me whilst I smile back, breathing in the outdoors- woody, fresh -scent of her. Watching her cross the room to Zakk, turning to point and when Zakk looks my way, I give an exaggerated nod, raising my hand thumb skyward.

"New friend, Brooke?"
"Maybe." Giving Daniel a one armed hug, receiving a kiss to the cheek in return. "Beautiful ceremony."
"Thank the wife." Raising his glass to Shauna, across the room with her parents, who notices, blowing us both a kiss.

"You going to behave?"
"Here?" Smirking. "Of course. In my room later though...."
"Didn't recognise her?"
"Figured." Nodding. "She isn't dressed for a wedding, so I figured she'd wandered in somehow."
"And so you invited her to stay?"
"Well...." Unsure, Daniel's tone coming across serious and have I overstepped?

But then he smiles.

"Wanker." Hitting him playfully on the arm. "I'll cover her tab anyway."
"Good plan." Still grinning. "Ply her with alcohol, much easier to talk her into a good binding afterwards."

Dodging my second swipe, by which time I'm laughing too. Daniel wanders off, leaving me to wait.

Having recognised me as Plymouth, having subsequently flirted back, all but agreeing to sex, later. With that in mind what happens later, in my room, ought to be a foregone conclusion.

Gone awhile, not that I worry. Enjoying the game, the chase, and if she didn't return I'd of been deflated, but it wouldn't ruin what has been a truly wonderful day. Magical, the ceremony, Daniel and Shauna made for each other, so clearly in love, two halves of the same whole and something I'd hope to find.

One day.

But here she comes, stopping to ensure she's spotted, by me, little- cheeky -wave before heading for the bar. I meet her there.

Showered, smelling now of fruit, subtle hints of banana, strawberry. Still wearing the boots, loosely laced and slipped on now though, lending her appearance that alternative, gothic slant. Fitting into the wedding aesthetic. Classic little black dress hugging her curves. Low cut and braless beneath, the cups hugging her chest, perfectly outlining the shape of each B cup, bouncing as she moves. Flaring out slightly below the waist, above the knee hem lace like, some kind of swirling pattern.

Ink on her upper back revealed, or spotted now, a skeletal dragon, twisting from left shoulder blade down towards her right lower back, wings halfway spread and tail disappearing towards her butt cheeks.

"Michelle."
"Brooke." Tempted to introduce myself as Plymouth, since she knows anyway. Michelle cocking her head at my smile.

Letting the evening swallow me up. Talking, flirting more though, finding a spot half out of the way and sitting far to close, pressed side to side, Michelle resting her hand deliberately within the slit of my dress, lightly tracing at the skin of my upper thigh, and so my own free arm goes around her shoulders, hand gently resting on her breast.

Dancing, a run of slow songs, an actual band as opposed a DJ spinning records, hands on each other's butt, pressed close and swaying to the hypnotic beat. Eye contact and me leaning in, tongue flicking out to lick Michelle's lip, slowly, and in response she gently catches it between her teeth. Gasp from me, pinned. Grin from her.

Devolving, becoming a kiss.

Back in the corner, evening winding down. Cuddled up close now, Michelle sat sideways in my lap and my hand very definitely now in her crotch, up inside her dress and stroking at the thin strip of her thong.

"There was." Between kisses, coming up for air, thong already a damp mess and nipples tenting the front of her dress. "Rope, in your room."
"There was." Piled on the long shelf that runs below the wall mounted flatscreen, moved to better allow access into my bag, rope and a gag. Because I don't leave home without bondage supplies.

Feel strangely naked otherwise.

"Going to." Small shiver, little moan as my finger presses harder, briefly, pushing her thong into her pussy. "Tie me up?"
"Yes." No sense denying my hopes now, my desired endgame.

Michelle's chance to back out, to protest or otherwise say no. Instead, another small shiver. Nerves? Before she shifts position, climbing and turning, spreading her legs to straddle me. Leaning in and down, spending the following five odd minutes exploring the depths of my cleavage with her tongue, cupping a breast, teasing at my nipple all whilst my hand continues to tease her pussy slit.

Our playfulness concealed by her body, blocking the sight from those few still remaining.

"It's." Struggling to put the words together, face to face again both of us breathing hard, somewhat fast. Matching grins. "What I'm into."
"Is it?"

Blinking at the question, feeling suddenly wrong footed.

"But." Frowning, Michelle blinking as she sees. "You, know I am?"
"How would I know?" Confusion on her face too, now.

"You recognised me?" Am I wrong, because it really looked like she did. "You looked at me and saw Plymouth?"
"Who?"
"You," what the fuck, "don't recognise me?"
"I." Laughing, blushing. "Owl wood."
"Owl?" Small laugh bubbling out of me now, too. Because for all it wasn't forever ago, a year? Blackpool and Carnival and whatever time spent since as a Ranger. For all that Owl still feels like a distant memory sometimes.

"What about Owl?"
"You." Shifting back slightly, still straddling me hands resting on my upper legs, still somewhat intimate.

Still interested.

"You caught me naked." Glancing down at herself, back up at me and smiling, nervous and another blush. "At night, in Owl. I was." Small shrug. "Praying."
"Praying." Hunting for the memory, finding the bare details, something disturbed, flashed detail of a half dozen naked female bodies, from kneeling in a circle to up and grabbing packs, running. All whilst I'd stood and blinked, too caught up in all that bouncing flesh to even consider giving chase.

"I'm Wiccan, sometimes we pray naked, to the Earth." Flicked glance skyward. "The moon."
"Right." Nodding. "I remember, but fuck me I only saw a flash of you all, not nearly enough for detail recall all this time later."
"Oh."

"Yet you remembered me?"
"Hard to forget that chest." Which I shake for her, earning a smile. "That ink. Even in the half dark."


"What's Plymouth?"
"Well." Fuck it. "Maybe it'll be more fun if I show you?"
"With the rope?"
"With the rope."

Leaning in to kiss me, proof of matched desire, feeling the heat off her crotch, pressed to mine.

"Okay." Standing and offering her hand, helping me up. "Come show me why you've got two names, and enough rope upstairs to tie up them both."

RopeBunny wrote: 2 days ago
In parts, yes.

Ultimately nothing can come of Edward/Brooke, because she prefers girls. But the intention here was to do a sort of romantic angle, Brooke noticing Edward as a person in that moment, the manly bulk of him and so on....

Following which she shouted at him

Fair. Will say that the tension adds nicely to the powerplay between them.

-

RopeBunny wrote: 2 days ago however the tightly cinched black underbust corset doesn't hurt.

To clarify, it hurts, a little, but fuck it.

Liked the play on words there.

RopeBunny wrote: 2 days ago ...a black top hat perched at a somewhat rakish angle completing that goth aesthetic...

Better not say that aloud Brooke, lest you spark an endless debate on whether or not top hats *truly* 'count' as goth

No quote given the length, but really enjoyed the teasing back-and-froth with both Michelle and Daniel. Obviously not uncommon for you to write that kind of dialogue, and you do it very well.

RopeBunny wrote: 2 days ago Because I don't leave home without bondage supplies.

Feel strangely naked otherwise.

Always travel prepared

RopeBunny wrote: 2 days ago "You recognised me?" Am I wrong, because it really looked like she did. "You looked at me and saw Plymouth?"
"Who?"
"You," what the fuck, "don't recognise me?"
"I." Laughing, blushing. "Owl wood."
"Owl?" Small laugh bubbling out of me now, too. Because for all it wasn't forever ago, a year? Blackpool and Carnival and whatever time spent since as a Ranger. For all that Owl still feels like a distant memory sometimes.

Fun little bait and switch, with the obvious assumption by Brooke, and now, reveal.

RopeBunny wrote: 2 days ago "Come show me why you've got two names, and enough rope upstairs to tie up them both."

Just the right amount of corny, I think - she fits right in with Brooke

An enjoyable interlude - wonder if it is merely a palate cleanser, or the start of something further.