Not the Summer Camp He Was Expecting (F/M)
Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2025 5:35 pm
The forest was dense and quiet, with moonlight slipping through the leaves. A cool breeze carried the scent of pine and soil through the camp, where the tents dotted the clearing.
The kids were asleep in their tents, tucked into their sleeping bags after a long day. A few scout leaders were still up, putting things away and doing final checks before turning in.
In his tent, Liam lay on his back, phone in hand, face lit by the screen. He scrolled aimlessly through his messages, smirking occasionally at memes only he found funny.
He was in his early twenties, the assistant leader of the group. He’d been a scout since he was a kid, but the values and discipline had never really meant much to him.
He was here out of habit more than anything else.
Since he was a kid, these trips had always been just an excuse to get away from home and kill a weekend.
And now as an horny adult, maybe to flirt with one of the new volunteers.
Over the years, he was offered a leadership role in the brigade, and he accepted—mainly to keep slacking off, just in a higher position.
True to form, he’d bully the younger scouts a little and pass off work to his subordinates, always delivering the bare minimum.
Outside, some leaders zipped up their tents. The forest began to settle.
Liam didn’t notice the shadow that quietly approached his own tent, or the soft rustle of branches just behind it.
Before he even noticed, the zipper of his tent began to slide open. Quietly, a young woman slipped inside—a redhead, nineteen, with a braid over her shoulder. She still wore her scout cap and full uniform, spotless and neatly pressed, her badges perfectly arranged.
It was Clara, the patrol leader.
She was known for her discipline, her sense of duty, and her loyalty to the scout code. Though both she and Liam had been in the scouts for years, they rarely crossed paths—belonging to different brigades—and when they did, their conversations never went beyond a polite “hey” or nod.
Liam had always found her attractive, even imagined flirting once or twice. But her strict, no-nonsense attitude had stopped him cold before he ever made a move.
Liam stopped scrolling, his brow lifting slightly as he watched her crawl in without hesitation. It wasn’t exactly subtle—nor something you'd expect from someone like her.
Still, he kept his usual lazy, casual tone.
“Uh… hey,” he said, half-smirking. “Didn’t think you were the type to sneak into tents at night.”
Liam tried to keep things light, though there was clear tension between them since that morning.
During one of Clara’s lessons—delivered with her usual energy—he’d thrown in a sarcastic comment, the kind that came to him as easily as breathing. The kids had burst out laughing, along with a few adults. Clara had forced a smile, but her cold eyes betrayed the embarrassment.
Liam, by now, couldn’t even remember exactly what he’d said that morning. But what he couldn’t forget were her eyes in that moment—cold, sharp, impossible to misread.
“Hey… just dropping by to check in,” she said softly, a strange mix of warmth and shyness in her voice. “I am the patrol leader, after all. Gotta make sure everyone’s alright. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day…”
“Oh—uh, yeah. Thanks. I’m good,” he replied, caught off guard by her friendly tone.
“Thanks to you, actually. You’ve been doing a good job,” he added quickly, trying to recover, maybe even win a few points.
She smiled sweetly. “Aw, thank you!
Something like that was your comment this morning too, wasn’t it?”
Liam blinked.
Uh-oh.
“Oh, are you upset about that? I was just joking—sorry,” Liam said with a weak smile.
“It’s fine, it was funny, right? The kids laughed,” Clara replied as she knelt down, slipping off the backpack hanging from her shoulders. “It’s our duty to make this weekend unforgettable for them. They seem to like you—That’s a good thing.”
She unzipped the backpack.
“But,” she continued, her tone tightening just slightly, “that’s not our only responsibility as scout leaders. Respect and discipline matter too. We’re not here to slack off.”
Before Liam could react or defend himself, she pulled out a coil of rope.
“What?” he started to sit up, but too late.
Clara tackled him with surprising strength, straddling his waist as he struggled beneath her. He twisted, but she pinned him down, flipping him onto his stomach.
“What the hell are you doing!?” he shouted, trying to squirm free.
“Quiet,” she said firmly, pressing her weight on his back. “Respect the chain of command.”
In swift, practiced movements, she bound his wrists tightly behind him. The knots were precise, firm, unyielding, but careful, and clearly done by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
Liam thrashed a little, testing the hold. He was going nowhere.
“Help! What the hell?!” Liam shouted, panicking as he realized how useless his struggling had become.
“Jacob! Harris!” he called out to his fellow leaders, desperate for backup.
She chuckled softly, still firmly perched on his back.
“They're not coming,” she said, casually. “I sent them to the supply cabin.”
Liam’s heart sank. He twisted, trying to glance behind, but the cramped tent made it near impossible—and she had him pinned.
“If you yell loud enough,” she added, slipping off her right boot, “maybe the kids will hear you. Do you really want them to see their cool leader like this?” Then pulled off the left one too.
“I mean,” she continued, sliding off her white socks one by one, “if you ruin their night, I’ll make sure this is your last camp ever.”
The words didn’t scare him. But the way she said them made his mouth go dry.
Liam mustered some courage and tried to defend himself a little. He thought of a half-hearted apology, but it was useless because as soon as he opened his mouth...
"Clara, I beli.. MPHM!!?!"
From behind, Clara lunged at him, grabbing his jaw and forcing his mouth open. Before he could react, she shoved one, then both of her worn socks inside. The nasty taste hit him instantly.
He gagged and tried to shake his head, but she was faster, her hand clamping tightly over his lips, muffling his groans.
He struggled, his body twisting as he tried to spit them out, but she held firm, pressing her palm against his mouth with surprising strength.
With her free hand, she reached for a long bandana and, in one swift motion, slipped it between his teeth and tied it tightly at the back of his head. The cleave gag bit into the corners of his mouth, locking the putrid stuffing in place. Liam let out a muffled, frustrated cry, but it was no use—the gag was secure.
"Mwhaaah, whaaah duh fwuhh!?"
Satisfied that her captive wouldn't be making a scene anytime soon, Clara calmly continued restraining him. She pulled out another piece of rope and moved to his legs, aiming for his ankles.
If someone had told Liam earlier that Clara would end up on top of him inside his own tent, this scenario would’ve been the last thing he’d imagine.
The humiliation burned inside Liam—being overpowered by a younger girl, gagged with her filthy socks after what must’ve been a long day hiking through the woods. Fury surged through him. He began kicking wildly, desperate to shake her off.
But Clara didn’t flinch. Thanks to the camp’s basic self-defense training, handling Liam’s flailing legs was child’s play. With ease and precision, she pinned his ankles and began wrapping the rope tightly around them, binding him securely.
Powerless, Liam had no choice but to endure it, his muffled grunts lost behind the gag.
Clara let out a few quiet giggles as she worked, the occasional smirk betraying how much she might actually be enjoying herself—far more than her usually composed, orderly demeanor would ever suggest.
“If you’d stop treating these trips as excuses to slack off, maybe-just maybe- you could’ve countered my grip. They do teach this stuff here, you know, sir,” Clara teased, her tone smug as she continued her precise work.
After finishing with his ankles, the redhead moved on to his thighs, binding them together with the same meticulous, almost professional care. Liam struggled, writhing against the restraints, but AGAIN it was useless—each knot held firm.
Just to make things even worse for him, Clara grabbed a leftover piece of rope and decided to go the extra mile.
With deliberate care, she bent his legs up behind him and looped the rope from his ankles to his wrists, pulling it tight into a clean, secure hogtie. Liam squirmed helplessly, the new position forcing his back to arch and making escape impossible.
“There we go,” she said cheerfully, brushing a bit of sweat from her brow.
“I always hoped I’d get to use all that knot training on someone eventually. Hehe... lucky you.”
Clara stood up—or at least as much as the cramped tent allowed—and looked down at her captive with quiet satisfaction. With her weight no longer pinning him down, Liam rolled awkwardly onto his side, trying to twist free with renewed energy. But all he managed was a weak, pitiful struggle that only made his predicament look more ridiculous.
He shot her a glare full of fury, his eyes burning with resentment. Behind the gag stuffed with her filthy socks, he mumbled what were surely curses and threats—but to Clara, it all came out as useless, muffled whining.
"Wghh!, MMPHH!!"
Unbothered, she crouched in front of him again, rummaged through her backpack, and pulled out another cloth. She wrapped it around his eyes, tying it tight in an makeshift blindfold.
“You were staring at your phone before bed, weren’t you?” she said with mock concern. “There are studies, you know—screens before sleep mess with your melatonin. I started wearing a sleep mask, and it really helped. This will help you too.”
Her voice was a perfect mix of her usual bossy, know-it-all tone and the newly revealed, almost sinister authority.
Clara gently placed her hand on Liam’s face. What began as a soft caress quickly turned into a playful pinch on his cheeks, puffed out around the gag.
"Whuh dh’ hmmph w’wong wiff yoo?! LMMPH MMM GHH !!" he grunted, confused and indignant.
“Time for bed,” Clara declared cheerfully.
Without hesitation, she reached for a sleeping bag and began maneuvering Liam’s bound body into it. Thanks to the tight hogtie, stuffing him in was surprisingly easy. Liam twisted and protested with angry muffled groans, but Clara didn’t pay him any mind—she simply kept working, unfazed by his resistance.
She slid the bag up until only his head remained visible, then zipped it shut just below his chin. His body was now completely enclosed, the taut nylon hugging his limbs and keeping him tightly confined. Only his gagged, blindfolded face peeked out from the opening.
“There,” she said, brushing imaginary dust off her hands. “If you’re a proper scout, this should be a piece of cake to get out of, right? Live up to your rank, Liam. I believe in you.”
Liam didn’t believe a word of it. He knew Clara was toying with him—and there was no way in hell anyone could escape this mess.
He groaned loudly into the gag, frustration boiling beneath every muffled sound.
Clara stood up again, her movements unnoticed by the blindfolded guy.
"Don’t worry," she said in a calm, almost casual voice. "You know I’m always the first one up. If you fail… I’ll be here early to untie you."
"Maybe by then, you’ll wake up with a better mindset—try being a little more polite, a bit more helpful… and stop being such dead weight for the rest of us."
Her tone shifted—just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation.
Then, without warning, she slammed her foot down onto his exposed head. Liam froze, he didn’t need to see what it was—he could smell it, A wave of pungent scent hit him
Clara was a clean girl, sure—but after the exhausting day they’d had, it was only natural she might not smell like roses.
"Whhmm?! Gh’ yrr fffmmph mmmhh!!!"
"I know you've been staring at my legs—and my ass—this entire trip,
I've even heard the little things you whisper behind my back."
She pressed her foot more firmly against him, the arch of it now deliberately pinning down his nose.
"I can forgive that. I can even overlook the fact that you’ve been completely useless so far. But that joke you made in the morning?"
Her voice tightened, laced with control and a hint of annoyance.
"That needed a little correction. A reminder, really… that I’m the one in charge here, understood?"
She shifted her weight slightly, forcing him to breathe in the full effect of her dominance. I think it goes without saying how Liam’s whining and struggling ended.
" Mpgh... UMPGM!!"
Clara held her position for a few more seconds. Then, she took a deep breath in… and out. Slowly, her body relaxed.
There was something oddly satisfying about seeing the troublesome guy lying helpless on the ground, tied up inside his sleeping bag, with her foot firmly planted on his face.
It actually made her chuckle.
She let go of the stress as she gently rubbed her foot across Liam’s nose.
“With that said… I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said sweetly. “Hopefully with a new attitude. Do it for the kids.”
She paused, then smirked as she pressed down just a little harder, sliding the base of her toes right over his nostrils.
“And if not… well, then do it if you dont want to spend the rest of the trip like this.”
Her voice now carried a playful mockery—light and teasing, a far cry from the irritation she had shown just minutes ago.
Liam's eyes shot open behind the blindfold at his superior’s casual threat, just as the scent hit him full force.
A few moments later, Clara finally lifted her foot off his face and began preparing to leave. She slid her bare feet back into her boots, lacing them up. As she did, she spotted Liam’s pocketknife lying near where he lay, now gasping for clean air.
Clara casually “borrowed” the knife. She knew he wouldn’t be able to reach it from inside the sleeping bag,… but, just in case.
Better safe than sorry.
“Well, I’d better get going,” she said
“The boys should be back from the supply cabin any minute now, and if they catch me walking out of a guy’s tent… well, you know how rumors start. So… nighty night.”
She stood up, grabbed her backpack, and reached over to switch off Liam’s lamp. Not that he could see—his blindfold made sure of that—but if anyone outside noticed a lit tent this late, they might get suspicious.
It wasn’t until Clara zipped the tent shut behind her that the full weight of his situation sank in for Liam. Panic set in. He writhed with everything he had, trying to reach the knots, but it was useless.
The knots were way out of reach, and Clara had made damn sure he had no chances.
The hogtie left him completely immobilized inside the sleeping bag, and being zipped up in it only made things worse. Not only did it trap his arms, it prevented him from reaching any tools from the outside .
The insulated bulk clung tightly to his body, smothering his movement and making any effort look more like a worm’s pathetic wriggling than a genuine attempt to break free.
The socks stuffed into his mouth had long since gone from uncomfortable to unbearable.
They were loose enough to stretch his jaw wide, but big enough to fill it completely, and now that the distracting scent of Clara’s feet was gone, the taste of the gag became painfully apparent.
The tight cleave gag wrapped around his head offered no mercy—there would be no spitting this out.
And, as if to mock him further, the blindfold kept his world in darkness—completely cut off from the outside.
Where most people would have accepted their punishment with a shred of dignity, Liam, true to his never-disciplined nature, thrashed about,furious and humiliated, stewing in the situation he’d brought upon himself.
Meanwhile, just outside the tent, Clara retrieved her travel thermos of hot coffee from where she’d set it before launching her little "disciplinary session"
She sat down on a nearby log, sipping slowly, a mischievous smile curling her lips.
Just another successful day at camp.
The cool breeze played with her hair, moonlight bathed the clearing in a gentle glow… and the muffled grunts and useless struggles coming from the tent behind her made for the perfect bit of ambient noise.
Author’s Note:
If you’re wondering what dumb joke Liam made that pissed Clara off so much—
He compared her braid to a sausage.
A chorizo, to be exact.
Yeah… not exactly comedy gold.
The kids were asleep in their tents, tucked into their sleeping bags after a long day. A few scout leaders were still up, putting things away and doing final checks before turning in.
In his tent, Liam lay on his back, phone in hand, face lit by the screen. He scrolled aimlessly through his messages, smirking occasionally at memes only he found funny.
He was in his early twenties, the assistant leader of the group. He’d been a scout since he was a kid, but the values and discipline had never really meant much to him.
He was here out of habit more than anything else.
Since he was a kid, these trips had always been just an excuse to get away from home and kill a weekend.
And now as an horny adult, maybe to flirt with one of the new volunteers.
Over the years, he was offered a leadership role in the brigade, and he accepted—mainly to keep slacking off, just in a higher position.
True to form, he’d bully the younger scouts a little and pass off work to his subordinates, always delivering the bare minimum.
Outside, some leaders zipped up their tents. The forest began to settle.
Liam didn’t notice the shadow that quietly approached his own tent, or the soft rustle of branches just behind it.
Before he even noticed, the zipper of his tent began to slide open. Quietly, a young woman slipped inside—a redhead, nineteen, with a braid over her shoulder. She still wore her scout cap and full uniform, spotless and neatly pressed, her badges perfectly arranged.
It was Clara, the patrol leader.
She was known for her discipline, her sense of duty, and her loyalty to the scout code. Though both she and Liam had been in the scouts for years, they rarely crossed paths—belonging to different brigades—and when they did, their conversations never went beyond a polite “hey” or nod.
Liam had always found her attractive, even imagined flirting once or twice. But her strict, no-nonsense attitude had stopped him cold before he ever made a move.
Liam stopped scrolling, his brow lifting slightly as he watched her crawl in without hesitation. It wasn’t exactly subtle—nor something you'd expect from someone like her.
Still, he kept his usual lazy, casual tone.
“Uh… hey,” he said, half-smirking. “Didn’t think you were the type to sneak into tents at night.”
Liam tried to keep things light, though there was clear tension between them since that morning.
During one of Clara’s lessons—delivered with her usual energy—he’d thrown in a sarcastic comment, the kind that came to him as easily as breathing. The kids had burst out laughing, along with a few adults. Clara had forced a smile, but her cold eyes betrayed the embarrassment.
Liam, by now, couldn’t even remember exactly what he’d said that morning. But what he couldn’t forget were her eyes in that moment—cold, sharp, impossible to misread.
“Hey… just dropping by to check in,” she said softly, a strange mix of warmth and shyness in her voice. “I am the patrol leader, after all. Gotta make sure everyone’s alright. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day…”
“Oh—uh, yeah. Thanks. I’m good,” he replied, caught off guard by her friendly tone.
“Thanks to you, actually. You’ve been doing a good job,” he added quickly, trying to recover, maybe even win a few points.
She smiled sweetly. “Aw, thank you!
Something like that was your comment this morning too, wasn’t it?”
Liam blinked.
Uh-oh.
“Oh, are you upset about that? I was just joking—sorry,” Liam said with a weak smile.
“It’s fine, it was funny, right? The kids laughed,” Clara replied as she knelt down, slipping off the backpack hanging from her shoulders. “It’s our duty to make this weekend unforgettable for them. They seem to like you—That’s a good thing.”
She unzipped the backpack.
“But,” she continued, her tone tightening just slightly, “that’s not our only responsibility as scout leaders. Respect and discipline matter too. We’re not here to slack off.”
Before Liam could react or defend himself, she pulled out a coil of rope.
“What?” he started to sit up, but too late.
Clara tackled him with surprising strength, straddling his waist as he struggled beneath her. He twisted, but she pinned him down, flipping him onto his stomach.
“What the hell are you doing!?” he shouted, trying to squirm free.
“Quiet,” she said firmly, pressing her weight on his back. “Respect the chain of command.”
In swift, practiced movements, she bound his wrists tightly behind him. The knots were precise, firm, unyielding, but careful, and clearly done by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
Liam thrashed a little, testing the hold. He was going nowhere.
“Help! What the hell?!” Liam shouted, panicking as he realized how useless his struggling had become.
“Jacob! Harris!” he called out to his fellow leaders, desperate for backup.
She chuckled softly, still firmly perched on his back.
“They're not coming,” she said, casually. “I sent them to the supply cabin.”
Liam’s heart sank. He twisted, trying to glance behind, but the cramped tent made it near impossible—and she had him pinned.
“If you yell loud enough,” she added, slipping off her right boot, “maybe the kids will hear you. Do you really want them to see their cool leader like this?” Then pulled off the left one too.
“I mean,” she continued, sliding off her white socks one by one, “if you ruin their night, I’ll make sure this is your last camp ever.”
The words didn’t scare him. But the way she said them made his mouth go dry.
Liam mustered some courage and tried to defend himself a little. He thought of a half-hearted apology, but it was useless because as soon as he opened his mouth...
"Clara, I beli.. MPHM!!?!"
From behind, Clara lunged at him, grabbing his jaw and forcing his mouth open. Before he could react, she shoved one, then both of her worn socks inside. The nasty taste hit him instantly.
He gagged and tried to shake his head, but she was faster, her hand clamping tightly over his lips, muffling his groans.
He struggled, his body twisting as he tried to spit them out, but she held firm, pressing her palm against his mouth with surprising strength.
With her free hand, she reached for a long bandana and, in one swift motion, slipped it between his teeth and tied it tightly at the back of his head. The cleave gag bit into the corners of his mouth, locking the putrid stuffing in place. Liam let out a muffled, frustrated cry, but it was no use—the gag was secure.
"Mwhaaah, whaaah duh fwuhh!?"
Satisfied that her captive wouldn't be making a scene anytime soon, Clara calmly continued restraining him. She pulled out another piece of rope and moved to his legs, aiming for his ankles.
If someone had told Liam earlier that Clara would end up on top of him inside his own tent, this scenario would’ve been the last thing he’d imagine.
The humiliation burned inside Liam—being overpowered by a younger girl, gagged with her filthy socks after what must’ve been a long day hiking through the woods. Fury surged through him. He began kicking wildly, desperate to shake her off.
But Clara didn’t flinch. Thanks to the camp’s basic self-defense training, handling Liam’s flailing legs was child’s play. With ease and precision, she pinned his ankles and began wrapping the rope tightly around them, binding him securely.
Powerless, Liam had no choice but to endure it, his muffled grunts lost behind the gag.
Clara let out a few quiet giggles as she worked, the occasional smirk betraying how much she might actually be enjoying herself—far more than her usually composed, orderly demeanor would ever suggest.
“If you’d stop treating these trips as excuses to slack off, maybe-just maybe- you could’ve countered my grip. They do teach this stuff here, you know, sir,” Clara teased, her tone smug as she continued her precise work.
After finishing with his ankles, the redhead moved on to his thighs, binding them together with the same meticulous, almost professional care. Liam struggled, writhing against the restraints, but AGAIN it was useless—each knot held firm.
Just to make things even worse for him, Clara grabbed a leftover piece of rope and decided to go the extra mile.
With deliberate care, she bent his legs up behind him and looped the rope from his ankles to his wrists, pulling it tight into a clean, secure hogtie. Liam squirmed helplessly, the new position forcing his back to arch and making escape impossible.
“There we go,” she said cheerfully, brushing a bit of sweat from her brow.
“I always hoped I’d get to use all that knot training on someone eventually. Hehe... lucky you.”
Clara stood up—or at least as much as the cramped tent allowed—and looked down at her captive with quiet satisfaction. With her weight no longer pinning him down, Liam rolled awkwardly onto his side, trying to twist free with renewed energy. But all he managed was a weak, pitiful struggle that only made his predicament look more ridiculous.
He shot her a glare full of fury, his eyes burning with resentment. Behind the gag stuffed with her filthy socks, he mumbled what were surely curses and threats—but to Clara, it all came out as useless, muffled whining.
"Wghh!, MMPHH!!"
Unbothered, she crouched in front of him again, rummaged through her backpack, and pulled out another cloth. She wrapped it around his eyes, tying it tight in an makeshift blindfold.
“You were staring at your phone before bed, weren’t you?” she said with mock concern. “There are studies, you know—screens before sleep mess with your melatonin. I started wearing a sleep mask, and it really helped. This will help you too.”
Her voice was a perfect mix of her usual bossy, know-it-all tone and the newly revealed, almost sinister authority.
Clara gently placed her hand on Liam’s face. What began as a soft caress quickly turned into a playful pinch on his cheeks, puffed out around the gag.
"Whuh dh’ hmmph w’wong wiff yoo?! LMMPH MMM GHH !!" he grunted, confused and indignant.
“Time for bed,” Clara declared cheerfully.
Without hesitation, she reached for a sleeping bag and began maneuvering Liam’s bound body into it. Thanks to the tight hogtie, stuffing him in was surprisingly easy. Liam twisted and protested with angry muffled groans, but Clara didn’t pay him any mind—she simply kept working, unfazed by his resistance.
She slid the bag up until only his head remained visible, then zipped it shut just below his chin. His body was now completely enclosed, the taut nylon hugging his limbs and keeping him tightly confined. Only his gagged, blindfolded face peeked out from the opening.
“There,” she said, brushing imaginary dust off her hands. “If you’re a proper scout, this should be a piece of cake to get out of, right? Live up to your rank, Liam. I believe in you.”
Liam didn’t believe a word of it. He knew Clara was toying with him—and there was no way in hell anyone could escape this mess.
He groaned loudly into the gag, frustration boiling beneath every muffled sound.
Clara stood up again, her movements unnoticed by the blindfolded guy.
"Don’t worry," she said in a calm, almost casual voice. "You know I’m always the first one up. If you fail… I’ll be here early to untie you."
"Maybe by then, you’ll wake up with a better mindset—try being a little more polite, a bit more helpful… and stop being such dead weight for the rest of us."
Her tone shifted—just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation.
Then, without warning, she slammed her foot down onto his exposed head. Liam froze, he didn’t need to see what it was—he could smell it, A wave of pungent scent hit him
Clara was a clean girl, sure—but after the exhausting day they’d had, it was only natural she might not smell like roses.
"Whhmm?! Gh’ yrr fffmmph mmmhh!!!"
"I know you've been staring at my legs—and my ass—this entire trip,
I've even heard the little things you whisper behind my back."
She pressed her foot more firmly against him, the arch of it now deliberately pinning down his nose.
"I can forgive that. I can even overlook the fact that you’ve been completely useless so far. But that joke you made in the morning?"
Her voice tightened, laced with control and a hint of annoyance.
"That needed a little correction. A reminder, really… that I’m the one in charge here, understood?"
She shifted her weight slightly, forcing him to breathe in the full effect of her dominance. I think it goes without saying how Liam’s whining and struggling ended.
" Mpgh... UMPGM!!"
Clara held her position for a few more seconds. Then, she took a deep breath in… and out. Slowly, her body relaxed.
There was something oddly satisfying about seeing the troublesome guy lying helpless on the ground, tied up inside his sleeping bag, with her foot firmly planted on his face.
It actually made her chuckle.
She let go of the stress as she gently rubbed her foot across Liam’s nose.
“With that said… I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said sweetly. “Hopefully with a new attitude. Do it for the kids.”
She paused, then smirked as she pressed down just a little harder, sliding the base of her toes right over his nostrils.
“And if not… well, then do it if you dont want to spend the rest of the trip like this.”
Her voice now carried a playful mockery—light and teasing, a far cry from the irritation she had shown just minutes ago.
Liam's eyes shot open behind the blindfold at his superior’s casual threat, just as the scent hit him full force.
A few moments later, Clara finally lifted her foot off his face and began preparing to leave. She slid her bare feet back into her boots, lacing them up. As she did, she spotted Liam’s pocketknife lying near where he lay, now gasping for clean air.
Clara casually “borrowed” the knife. She knew he wouldn’t be able to reach it from inside the sleeping bag,… but, just in case.
Better safe than sorry.
“Well, I’d better get going,” she said
“The boys should be back from the supply cabin any minute now, and if they catch me walking out of a guy’s tent… well, you know how rumors start. So… nighty night.”
She stood up, grabbed her backpack, and reached over to switch off Liam’s lamp. Not that he could see—his blindfold made sure of that—but if anyone outside noticed a lit tent this late, they might get suspicious.
It wasn’t until Clara zipped the tent shut behind her that the full weight of his situation sank in for Liam. Panic set in. He writhed with everything he had, trying to reach the knots, but it was useless.
The knots were way out of reach, and Clara had made damn sure he had no chances.
The hogtie left him completely immobilized inside the sleeping bag, and being zipped up in it only made things worse. Not only did it trap his arms, it prevented him from reaching any tools from the outside .
The insulated bulk clung tightly to his body, smothering his movement and making any effort look more like a worm’s pathetic wriggling than a genuine attempt to break free.
The socks stuffed into his mouth had long since gone from uncomfortable to unbearable.
They were loose enough to stretch his jaw wide, but big enough to fill it completely, and now that the distracting scent of Clara’s feet was gone, the taste of the gag became painfully apparent.
The tight cleave gag wrapped around his head offered no mercy—there would be no spitting this out.
And, as if to mock him further, the blindfold kept his world in darkness—completely cut off from the outside.
Where most people would have accepted their punishment with a shred of dignity, Liam, true to his never-disciplined nature, thrashed about,furious and humiliated, stewing in the situation he’d brought upon himself.
Meanwhile, just outside the tent, Clara retrieved her travel thermos of hot coffee from where she’d set it before launching her little "disciplinary session"
She sat down on a nearby log, sipping slowly, a mischievous smile curling her lips.
Just another successful day at camp.
The cool breeze played with her hair, moonlight bathed the clearing in a gentle glow… and the muffled grunts and useless struggles coming from the tent behind her made for the perfect bit of ambient noise.
Author’s Note:
If you’re wondering what dumb joke Liam made that pissed Clara off so much—
He compared her braid to a sausage.
A chorizo, to be exact.
Yeah… not exactly comedy gold.
:mrgreen: