Their Friend, the Dominatrix (F/FF)

[AlexUSA3]

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

Their Friend, the Dominatrix
Sunday, October 01, 2023

“You are a—What is the phrase?—a piece of sh-t!” our friend Emilia castigates me.
“So Iberian. So sweet. So foreign. Soooooo sweet to kill,” I say like it's a love ballad.
“What did I ever do to you? Why are you picking on me?” she asks like she doesn't know.
“She eez a cruel wumun!” our friend Ashley says with a sly grin upon her face, “But lovable.”
“Well, well, well, someone properly understands me,” I continue to act like this is a romance.
“Naaaaaaah, she's a piece of sh-t,” friend Destiny quips, and friend Jackie adds, “I concur.”
“It's the old age doing it to her,” Taylor drops that as if I’m elderly and not just 28 years old.
“She's totally cruel… but then again so aren't we all,” Alexandra takes a sensible position.
“Ashley Calland,” I whisper her name, “If you get here in 15 minutes, I’ll go full dominatrix on you if you’d like,” I push my tongue into my cheek, “Anyone is welcome to join her.”

Oh, I bet that instantly got at least a couple of my captive audience to wet themselves in a sexual sense. Perhaps they are physically free, but they are mentally captive. Video game nights are a part of our routines, but with girls like me, Jackie, Destiny, and Taylor working rotating shifts at our respective jobs, scheduling can be funny. Like, today, game night is actually happening now at 5 PM because Taylor and Jackie got off at 4 PM. Yesterday, they attended mass in their work uniforms. This morning, it was me because I have an off day after working midnight to 8 AM to walk into church for the first mass of Sunday morning. Life is hectic, but it's finally good. Most of my rotating shift friends work at the same prison where we were once incarcerated, Mudville Juvenile Detention Center. But me? I’m a police officer, and I’ve sadly brought girls to juvie.

Today is GTA Online day, and it's the night that attracts the biggest crowd of all. GTA is such a hit for us because it's accessible. Jackie and a couple others sometimes get into car games for a change of pace because it's a bit violent when you're playing GTA, Red Dead, Tarkov, and a few other similarly bloody or outright heinous games. It's so much fun, but it's not as much fun as… as bondage… as domination… as sadism… at least as we consensually enjoy them.

As a girl who has been frequently asked to do bondage wrestling and even been asked to appear in other studio’s work… I must say I have done the bondage wrestling and even appeared as one of the trophy girls at local kayfabe fake wrestling events. I only dominate for my friends. I have limits. If they weren't my friends, I wouldn't enjoy it. It's that I can bind and expose them, twist the nipple clamps so they scream, let them do it to me sometimes, and laugh afterwards about it. I can't do that with strangers or in a strictly impersonal context. It's the trust that I crave.

“I’ll bite,” our friend Alexandra taps me on the shoulder, “I want to keep playing, but I desire to be a spectacle of your power,” she steps back and looks me in the eyes, “Make me your slave.”
“A brave soul,” I gaze into her eyes as well, “Well, friends, shall I do it?” I never turn around.
“She'll be super cute trying to swear at us while gagged,” Destiny cackles.
“Oh, Alexandra… the beautiful lawyer will receive only my best,” I practically swoon.
“She's cooing,” Jackie says like an announcer into her microphone, “She's dominant.”
“Ash has disappeared from the chat,” Emilia observes, “She's going over there right now!”

I mentioned last time that I desired to have Jackie and Destiny as roommates. It happened after a few months, and the three of us share a house not far from the prison where they are guards. I’d describe it in detail, but I would spend all day. We use the den as our gaming room with our own stations, but we also all have desks in our rooms. This will matter in a brief moment, as I intend to show you. It's going to be so much fun, my gorgeous lovelies.

Let me confirm your naughty thoughts. I did enjoy being a sloppily bound damsel-in-distress for that kayfabe wrestling show, as fake as it was, and I do enjoy the bondage wrestling that’s related to the kayfabe wrestling only by the common word “wrestling.” Both are so much fun, but some of my coworkers happened to attend the kayfabe show and, as a result, learned of my secret alias of Roxanne Rutledge. Two male coworkers and a female coworker. No, neither of those men is my boyfriend. Yes, I’m a virgin. Thank you for asking. Oh, you didn't ask? Too bad. I’m now in charge. There was no fallout. Just 10 minutes of blushing after confirming things. Yes, I’m a minor celebrity in their eyes, and it's now become a private joke among us four at work.

Alexandra Watkins comes first, and soon Ashley Calland will join her. Xandra has long straight blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes that can speak all of her emotions from joy to anger and even to fear. Standing there with blue jeans, a coral t-shirt, and brown leather sandals makes her look ready to be my captive. How much the outfit affects my imagination when studying a victim!

Now, the house. Three bedrooms and a den. The den is set up so we can share one microphone if we so desire. Friends like Xandra can come over, and she was playing the game from my own bedroom this evening. She’ll likely not leave the room until morning because of her request, one kinky request. Oh, yes, I know how to safely keep someone captive all night, and it is a rare treat that we handle carefully. I will make this evening one she’ll never forget as well.

“I want this to be kinky,” I say to Xandra, “If you're my slave, then take off your shirt.”
“No. You’ll have to bare these breasts yourself if you want to see them.”
“Very well, but you will be a spectacle of subjugation, not a spectacle of power,” I warn her.

If she had cooperated, I would have set her up to keep playing. Instead, she finds herself getting completely dominated. Now, in the bondage wrestling, the girls are usually in their underwear. I am definitely not in my underwear. Pink leggings, a purple, form-fitting crop-top t-shirt, pink—I love so many colors—combat boots, and a purple bandana headband are my flare here. A purple scrunchie keeps my hair in a perfect ponytail. Brown hair and brown eyes, but pure friendship.

Being 5’2” while Xandra is 5’5” does not change that I can dominate her at will. I am a trained officer. I went to prison. She's a slim girl who went to law school. I win. I love to win. When I am in a dominant mood, the act of conquest makes my heart race with excitement, and I salivate while imagining punishments to mete out upon my victim. Xandra stands no chance, and failing to take off her shirt means I choose the bondage route. It's much easier to tie her elbows together with a piece of rope than it is to do it with the bondage wrestling girls.

“Must you?” she asks me in a mocking, rhetorical tone before adding, “I should have stripped.”

I chose this bedroom on purpose: cherry wooden floors. I can force captives to drool and climax all day long if I wish, and I won't damage the floors. Why does that matter? Oh, because I use a bright blue 2 inch ball gag to stop Xandra’s mouth. I tighten the head strap and the chin strap. It happens so fast, just like I tie her wrists together with speed before I use a custom-installed hook to pull her arms up into a strappado position. A spreader bar and rope hold her ankles bound and 3 feet apart from each other. Oh, it's an excellent position, and I adjust the camera on the desk so that she can be seen and heard. A vibrator against her crotch adds another dimension to things. I control her saliva and her c-m now. Can you also feel the power surging through your veins? I know our audience of video game playing friends, who I’m sure are causing classic GTA chaos, are enjoying our background music or even pausing the game to listen to us go back and forth.

“Come in, Miss Ashley Calland. I’ve been expecting you.”

There are no mirrors here. My back has been to the door while I bound Xandra. I felt her unique spirit. Ashley is not ordinary. If she were a superhero, her superpower would be empathetically healing in which the other’s wounds become hers before disappearing. Her spirit greets you long before she says anything, and few can discuss our Roman Catholic faith with me like she can. A friend like her is a gem, but she is reserved, quiet, and hard to unwrap unless she trusts you.

“Ah, but, my friend, you forgot to expose zee teetees,” Ashley casually bares Xandra’s breasts.
“Mmmmmmm!” Xandra blushes and playfully coos while I make sure the camera and mic work.
“Ashley, my dear, your insolence will not be tolerated,” I ooze domination like most sweat.
“Oh, mon amie, what will you do to me?” the French girl asks curiously while watching Xandra.
“Your gag will be laced,” it's my turn to coo, “But will it be a ball gag or my socks?”
“I do not have work tomorrow,” her brown eyes confidently gaze into my own.

Standing at 5’7”, Ashley Calland is a paragon of simple beauty. She did two bondage wrestling scenes with me, but she hardly looks like the wrestling type. A blue denim miniskirt is standard for her. The black turtleneck sweater is taped up as a crop top and fits her form and curves with perfection, and her navel piercing gleams in the limited lighting. Black pantyhose lines her legs in sumptuous fashion, and the pink pumps on her feet are paired with a pink bandana headband. So feminine, so unique, so Ashley, so beautiful, so wonderful to dominate.

The bandana holds back her shoulder length brown hair. Ashley is not muscular by any means, but she is frightfully strong. She could break me like a twig if she wished; her exercise routines are intended for strength, not body sculpting, and even when contracted her muscles look simple and feminine. The slight smile on her lips practically dares me, but I choose femininity.

“Jackie's room,” I motion for the Orléans native to lead the way, and her heels clack as we go.
“Mmmph!” Xandra loudly gag talks behind us as we abandon her in a hopeless situation.

Jackie's room is a necessity. I desire to have Ashley feature on her own camera and microphone setup. Well, it's Jackie’s. Ashley walks with confident femininity, but she's not a feminist by any means. She is uniquely Ashley, and her phrase “I do not have work tomorrow” was a permission slip to do pretty much anything I wish to her and a request for me to use a head harness ball gag.

For a little ambiance, Jackie's room also has hardwood floors, but it has pink walls. While I love pink, only Jackie could tolerate the overtly girly vibe of the walls. I turn on the light and motion for her to sit on the simple wooden chair that is before Jackie's desk. The heels clack with such a confident, poetic expression. What happened to Ashley, the circumstances that led to her being a part of our circle of friendship, makes me so angry that I will not discuss it beyond saying that it was an unjust punishment when you consider all the circumstances.

“Thank you,” Ashley smiles when I use clothesline rope to pull her elbows together gently.
“Tonight, you are svelte, womanly, and beautiful. You deserve to be… cherrrissshhhed,” I hiss.
“I love when you adopt that dominatrix tone. It is so exciting to me,” she practically swoons.

Ashley only smiles while I bind her body with smooth, dominant motions. She knows she’s now ensnared and unable to turn back. Three clotheslines are for her arms alone. The first, the elbow one, goes above her elbows; the second goes below her elbows; the third is for her wrists. Then I track up her legs like this. The first is for her ankles, the rope wrapping her heels to secure those luscious pink pumps in place; the second goes below her knees; the third goes above her knees to ensure her knees are locked together; the fourth goes below her waist.

“You're allllllllll mine, now, my French bondage princessssssss… and sssssssslave,” I say to her.
“Felice, you make slavery sound so desirable when it should not be,” she smirks and squirms.
“I’d tell you to sit tight,” I say and then drop to a soft, sinister whisper, “But you get no choice.”
“You make bondage sound as seductive as cheesecake and the promise of good sex.”
“This will be even better, my dear,” I am securing her waist to the seat and back of the chair.
“Hmmm, but what will it be?” she asks, twisting around, staring at the camera, “For me?”
“For you,” I knot the rope, “there will be a nice tight head harness ball gag.”
“That’s what I wish to hear. I desire the dents and the drooling, if you would please do so.”

On the other side of that camera is the chat room for our gaming circle, the girls who are a small private crowd of witnesses to my domination of the French girl. They get to see her trying to test her bonds and sliding the chair on the wooden floor. They get to see her legs receive a dominant jerk when I tie her ankles to the cross braces of the chair’s legs. They get to see her getting bent forward when I use the top of the chair’s back as an anchor and tie her wrists to it as a strappado point. They get to see me roll the bright orange silicone ball gag in the mixture that will lace the gag. They get to watch her eyes widen before I blindfold her with the American flag bandana. They get to watch me dominantly shove the ball in her mouth and excessively tighten each of the straps so that she will almost certainly have dents that will take hours to fade after release.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I “lace” a gag. I didn’t invent this trick. Ashley did alongside a friend of ours. The formula consists of scrumptious ingredients: glycerin, vinegar powder, alum, salt, corn starch, and cocoa powder. Glycerin makes it thick and sticky, ensuring the powders all remain attached to the gag as much as possible. The vinegar makes it all tangy and stimulates an involuntary and strong salivation. Corn starch makes the drool thicken even as it penetrates the glycerin, so that only thick blobs of drool escape. Cocoa powder gives it safer alkalinity than the alum, so that they combine to make the mouth and tongue want to pucker around the silicone orb and make the gag even more silencing. Salt safely amplifies all the sensations.

“Now, my dear, I did not forget this,” I say and pull up the crop top and the sports bra underneath it, exposing her bosom, and I tie a harness that has no purpose except to make her bust protrude from her chest even more and to hold the shirt out of the way. My breast squeezes are fondling right now only because we choose to play pretend that it’s fondling when she truly desires this. I give her a parting present: a vibrator against her crotch, under her skirt.

“Gmmmm,” she sensually groans, so sensually that it cannot be anything but pleasure.

I go back to my room to check on Xandra and make sure that she’s all right in her strappado. At a glance, I can see her handling 20 to 30 more minutes of the straining torture, which is adequate for me to return to the den, abandoning her and Ashley in their respective strappado bondage. It is hard to top abandonment among bondage elements. Nothing beats being left alone without the slightest chance for escape, especially when you’re as cruelly secured as they are. Escalation is a powerful drug in these games because you can do so many things; even a switch to a hogtie will feel like an intense torment after 30 minutes in a strappado. Yes, it’s time to return to the den and my gaming clique. We will get to enjoy the show through the cameras and microphones on mine and Jackie’s desks. It will be very entertaining. It will even be climatic, won’t it? Get it?

“They sound so happy,” I hear Emilia’s voice over the microphone, “Felice, they love you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I blush and sit down in between Jackie and Destiny, “You know the best part of it? I set it up so that they can be seen and heard, but they can’t see or hear us,” I then laugh in a wicked manner, “Ahhh ha ha haaa!” my seemingly patented dominatrix cackle of sadistic glee.
“She’s cacklin’,” Destiny says, “Look out girls because she’s entering the lobby now.”
“Sadistic dominatrix Felice Pryce has entered the lobby!” Taylor, our game leader, laughs, too.
“Gmmmmmm!” I see Ashley struggling in the upper right corner of my screen.
“UGGGGHHH!” and Alexandra in the lower right corner of the same screen.
“Who wants to be the first victim of Felice… ahem… Roxanne Rutledge. Hmm?”

Yes, it is climatic. I will spare you the gory details, but let it suffice that I can tell by the squirms and motions and sounds that both girls are being pushed over the edge by the vibrators. What is of importance is that they asked for it; only in this knowledge can I enjoy it. Now, just imagine a group of 28-30 year old women all playing GTA Online in a private lobby all while two of their friends are bound, gagged, and orgasming to provide them all both auditory and visual secondary entertainment. It’s scrumptious to me, and I love seeing the mixed reactions of my friends.

“I’m ssssssssoooooooo sooorrrrrrrryyyyyyy,” I say, using an automatic rifle to kill Emilia again.
“Why are you picking on me?!” the beautiful Spanish woman asks me in mock horror.
“Gmmmmmmm,” Alexandra is lost in an unstoppable cycle of irresistible orgasm now.
“Oh, isn’t bondage just wonderful?” I ask, and quickly blast Destiny away just as easily.
“BOOM! Baby! Take that, Roxanne Rutledge!” Taylor subdues me with a grenade.
“Taylor! That was the work of a genius!” I coo, “Good job!”
“Wanna go blast Jackie and the Ralstons?” she asks me like our mayhem is completely normal.
“Hmmmmmm,” Ashley softly orgasms in the background with a piercing, happy squeal.
“Why, my dear! How sweet of you to ask! I’d be enchanted,” I put a hand to my chest.

I glance into the corner and notice a big blob of drool fall off Ashley’s orange ball gag and down onto the floor. She truly loves subjugation. Her struggles are slow and deliberate. She tries very little to actually attempt to escape, choosing to relish the sensations. She is a charming girl, and I appreciate her honesty about her appetite. She has a boyfriend who will have his hands full with her after they tie the knot, should they choose to do so. I love the squeaky sounds made by those pumps when she moves her feet, and I can't believe how calm she is despite her orgasms.

Xandra throws her head back. “Ahhhhhhhh!” she yells into the gag, testing its limits. “Unhie ee oo otherhuhhin’ hunt!” Her breaths are big and fast, and her eyes are wide and shooting daggers at me. Her sneakers squeak on the wood floor, and the ropes hold her fast. The gorgeous blonde squirms in my room, and she has agreed to be all mine all night… if I can keep her. Oh, but you know I will. I would tarnish my reputation if I failed. “Hmph!” Alexandra tries again, “Gmph!” She knows I am in charge. She dreads my domination while also erotically, sensually fantasizing of it. It's so horrible… yet it's so good, too. Can you feel the emotions we both experience? It’s a powerful drug, indeed, yet when you know your passions you can control them like I am now.

“I’d like to see you do that while I’m sitting next to you!” one victim whines as Taylor shines.
“I’d love to! Come on over, and we’ll sit in the den with Felice and play!” Taylor’s video game sadism is a stiff rival to my bondage sadism, “Oh, I bet the thought makes you sh-t yourself.”
“Take a seat next to… the Gangsta Rogue,” Destiny whispers with a giggle, looking at me.
“Rogue?” I put an affected hand to my chest, “Why, DESTINY! You charm me!”
“I bet she purrs like a kitten when she’s in her boyfriend’s arms!” some urchin mocks me.
“Maybe I do, but it’ll be you purring if you do a bondage wrestling film with me,” I respond with a controlled, controlling voice, “Two girls in their underwear duking it out to determine who gets bound and gagged. It’s really a lot of sexy fun, and I’ve won 11 of my 16 matches so far.”

“Unhie ee!” Alexandra is struggling in my bedroom. “Unhie ee!” she repeats the words like they are a mantra. “UNHIE EE!” she barks out the garbled words like a stern command. She throws her head back and screams, “AAAAAAAAaaaagggggggggggh!” with blobs of drool flowing off the gag onto the floor and adds an “EEEEEKKKKKK!” for good measure. No one does a thing for Xandra though except some laughter and commentary she can neither hear nor see. No one says “Untie me!” when they want to be released; it’s part of the game. Even in real kidnappings, the captor will not obey that command. This is why we have safe signals to request release.

“I’d dare it!” I hear a Ralston twin—Liz—respond to my wrestling challenge.
“Ah, my dear Gangsta Twin Liz, but you’re the twin with the better record against me,” I coo.
“Sure, sure,” the other twin, Leah, rolls her eyes, “Where are you keeping score? We’ve never appeared in your wrestling films,” and then her gaze changes, “You keep a scorebook?!”
“Every film and every CGC game, my dear,” I then use my patented laugh, “Ahhh ha ha haaa!”
“Those are staged!” Liz protests, “I know your wrestling films are not staged!”
“All the more reason for you to dare it,” I challenge, “C’mon, Taylor, let’s blast these twits!”

Which squeak is sexier? The squeaks of Xandra’s sneakers on the floor while she battles the 3 foot spreader bar between her ankles while in a strappado? The squeaks of Ashley’s pumps due to her legs being tied together, forcing the pumps to rub together? Ashley does not orgasm too easily, and my choice of bondage forces her and Xandra to wait for the vibrator to do that on its own. It’s a cunning way of asserting control; I used no crotch ropes because they can be pulled to help achieve climax on the captive’s own terms. But the squeaks make a lovely soundtrack.

Bondage wrestling is as it sounds, for those desiring to know more. There is this one man who is a producer of these films and often passes through Minneapolis, and he has connections to a real wrestling setup where he can produce the films. Two or three girls get dressed, usually in undies, and wrestle to see who wins. A piece of rope is given, and the winner is the one who manages to get the rope secure enough to then finish binding and gagging the loser. None of us are muscular by any means, so it’s mostly about the thrill of watching women get sweaty while scantily clad in a controlled environment. Being who I am, I make sure I am ready so the loser can be gagged as well. That’s enough to help you understand the challenge I made to my friends.

“Nothing like a bullet-ridden corpse,” Taylor oozes her own domination and teabags a dead Liz.
“You are terrible people!” Emilia is a master at feigned shock and horror in these moments.
“What’s it matter to you?” Jackie asks in frustration, “You weren’t land mined like I just was!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Destiny bursts into the room and eradicates me with a rocket launcher.
“Take that, you mistresses of evil!” Emilia just as ruthlessly takes out Taylor.

Why a spreader bar? Why do I do anything? I’m not a whip or spanking dominatrix. I’m more a spreader bar, vibrator, and breathplay type. I cultivate experiences and psychologically lord it over my captives. Pain does little for me, although I will use spanking for total domination of a captive, especially if I know it’s a personal kink of hers. Do you see? I will explain.

The spreader bar is a perfect example of my curated domination. It brings the legs apart to upset any sense of balance, but it still binds the ankles. By letting Xandra keep her sneakers, I add that distinctive squeak sound and give her more grip than if she were in her socks or barefoot. I give her a little security in exchange for our auditory pleasure in the form of the squeak. Perish your thoughts! I have not forgotten Ashley. There is subtle psychology in her bondage as well.

I must soon adjust Xandra’s bondage, so I excuse myself in the aftermath of my eradication with an excursion to go visit Ashley, just in time to watch that laced gag force a massive blob of drool to hit the floor with an arousing PLOP! I love the sight of the puddle that has accumulated on the floor beneath the blindfolded girl’s mouth. That scrumptious combination of ingredients is why I have heard little; her mouth has completely suctioned to the gag due to the effects, just as she desired. Another PLOP! follows to my delight, and the chair strappado holds strong.

“Gmmmm,” she quietly groans and squirms in the rigid bondage, the American flag bandana has held strong thanks to being strategically placed underneath the head harness. The ball gag is not too large, really, but the bright orange is menacingly and obvious to the audience who watches as I patronize Ashley by jerking on the ropes securing her body to the chair, making sure they’re all remaining strong. Once I am satisfied, I take my leave of the French bondagette.

“Unhie ee, oo huckin’ hunt!” the blonde girl in the standing strappado greets me upon entry.
“Oh, Alexandra,” I bring her hair back and hold it all in my hand, pulling it so she looks straight into my eyes. “You say the sweetest things,” I coo again and loosen the strappado.
“Et ee oh. Et ee oh. ET. EE. OH!” she’s in a screechy, defiant mood… as always.
“Not tonight, my dear,” I untie the ropes on the spreader bar, ending the savory sneaker squeak.
“Gmmmmmmmmm!” she shakes and twists her arms in her bondage.
“You’re all mine, honey. Tomorrow, you will wear long sleeves and slacks to the courthouse.”

I encourage Alexandra to take a seat on the chair at my own desk, much like Ashley is sitting on Jackie’s chair at the present. I tie Xandra’s ankles to the chair’s legs, and I tie her thighs together above her knees and below her waist. I secure her waist to the seat and the back of the chair, and I make sure I work a crotch rope this time for her personal use, to please herself as she desires to do so. I run a rope from her wrists to the cross braces under the chair, forgoing harnesses and the like so that her struggle will be more visually dynamic. Are you having fun yet?

Alas, I am a dominatrix, and I see an invitation because of Xandra’s profanity. She knows all the words and uses them like they’ll be outlawed on any given Thursday. That’s why I start untying my shoelaces and carefully remove my boots. That’s why I pull my pink socks off my own feet. That’s why I grab a tegaderm and a purple bandana. That’s why I unbuckle the big blue ball gag for the entertainment of my friends. The effluent that comes off Xandra’s lips is intoxicating.

“You motherfucking monster! Untie me right now!” she struggles as much as the chair allows at the moment, “Bitch! I’m ordering you! When my daddy finds you, you’ll regret your birth!”
“Miss Watkins, I’d love to stay and chat,” I say with a feigned yawn, “But I’m busy.”
“Gmmmmmmm!” she says when her mouth fills with the pink socks, and I seal her lips using the tegaderm and then use the purple bandana as a beautiful OTM gag that hides my handiwork.
“That’s my sweet,” I repeatedly tap her on the cheek, “Enjoy my socks for a loonnnggggg time.”
“NO NO NO!” she watches me grab binder clips, but “NO!” means “YES!” in play with her.
“My sincerest lack of apologies,” I taunt her and pinch her nipples with the tape coated clips.
“Ah hinh ah hahe oo!” she says in an exhausted manner while looking right at me.
“Oh, Alexandra!” I beam and test things with a twist of each clip, “You’re so sugary sweet!”
“GMM MMMM! AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGH!” she shrieks while I walk away.
“I wish to change things up for Miss Calland because she must go home eventually.”

I know my friends in the den are eagerly watching. They’re salivating. They know that tonight it is not their turn, but some of them wish it were that way. I prefer doing it this way, with one or two captives receiving all of my energy. I can keep an eye on two and fantasize of what I will do next to two all while enjoying the game night with my friends as well. Game night merely has a different definition for Xandra and Ashley at the present, but it’s still a game in a way.

PLOP! Drool hits the floor in the ever-growing puddle. “Guh huh!” Ashley shudders with her orgasmic pleasure. I imagine this must be 4 or 5 for her, which is a lot relative to the 40 or so minutes of her captivity. That’s enough time in that strappado. It was a lighter strappado, but it’s still a strappado. I calmly and casually undo the ropes that are holding her body to the chair, and I assist the bound girl to stand up. The rope in her heels keeps the pumps on her feet, even as she hops where I will her to hop. She coos in her captivity, and the mixture on the gag is showing an inkling of dissolution and weakening. Besides the lacing, I do not want to keep the gag on her so tightly for more than an hour, so this next phase is just the beginning of a new episode for her.

I tie a chest harness on Ashley, objectifying her bust and further constricting her arms. While the concession given to Alexandra was a mercy, the same concession, a waist and crotch rope, forms another restraint for Ashley, further pinning her arms and giving me ownership of her struggle to get free from the bondage. Now, her struggle works in concert with the vibrator, working to push her over the edge. I adjust the wand to a more personally resonant frequency. I figure this brings her refractory period down to about 7 minutes. What do you say, Ash? Oh, silly me.

“Ohhhh JacccCCCQQQQQQue-LINNNNNNE!” I call out in a sing-song, “I neeEEEDDD you!”

Jacqueline Martin. Jackie. Gangsta Thief. I only need one thing from her. It’s a small favor. I remove the ball gag while waiting for Jackie to pause her game and come into her own bedroom to do this simple task that I know will not irk her in the least. Ashley doesn’t speak despite the opportunity to do so. Instead, she smacks her lips, gets her breath, and stands up straight and tall in an expression of the underlying pride that she possesses despite everything. As I said before, her story makes my blood boil, and I will not get into anything concerning it. She blindly moves her head as if looking around the room or honing her ears on specific sounds. The American flag bandana blindfold is such a fun twist for a proud naturalized US citizen.

“Oh, sure!” Jackie eagerly stops and gives me what I need after I use hand signals to explain.
“Enjoy, my big, tall, strong, sweet French bondagette,” I say.
“GUHHHHHHH!” Ashley cannot stop me from stuffing Jackie’s socks into her mouth.
“Isn’t that deeeeelicious?” I ask, wrapping her face with orange duct tape. “Scrumptious?” I ask to taunt her a bit about it, while wrapping the tape only 6 times around her head.
“Ugggghhhhhh!” she groans at the flavor of the nasty socks Jackie’s worn all day long.
“I am so sorry, my beloved,” I push her knees out from behind her, “But I have plans for you.”

Ashley is helpless, but she loves helplessness. Once upon a time, she was helpless and couldn’t escape, and she was trapped in another’s hatred. These days, she is helpless and can escape just by using agreed signals, and she is trapped in another’s love. She trusts me not to hurt her, and I would never live with myself if I caused her any harm. It is in this spirit that I hogtie her on the bed, linking her bound ankles to her bound elbows, and I turn her so that her face is towards the camera. She knows the stakes are the same whether or not she escapes. This is power.

“Enjoy, my sweet,” I say, and then I break character, “Ashley Calland, I love you, my friend.”
“Gmm mm mm mmmm!” she responds, and I will assume it’s, “I love you, too.”
“Come, Jacqueline,” I resume my dominatrix hiss, “Let’s leave this rubbish to suffer.”
“Felice,” Jackie takes my hand in her own platonic love, “You’re a perfect anti-hero.”

Let us resume the video games, shall we? Our screens are now graced by the true extent of my chaotic influence. Indeed, it’s not just video game chaos or me with Ashley and Alexandra. It’s a disease, a splendid disease. Behold, in the corner of my screen, I see a new window to join the view of me, Jackie, Destiny, Emilia, Taylor, Liz, and Leah playing video games with Xandra and Ashley, my captives, in two other windows. No, Liz and Leah have captured their roommate and put her on display—I am sure with her consent. And Leah has also captured Liz. Oh, those twin terrors are amazing if only because they have strict boundaries compared to anyone in this house. I mean that they do not permit breast exposure except in asexual games and scenes.

“Leah Ralston,” I say with a dominant edge, “You are a brilliant mind of domination tonight.”
“Gmmmph!” Alexandra comes through the sounds as well, “GMMMMM! MMMMM!”
“That’s my own story to tell,” she smirks and adjusts her headset, “Get back in the lobby, girl.”
“Yeah, Felice, sit down,” my housemate Destiny motions for me, “Enjoy the many shows.”
“Oh, I will enjoy all of this,” I sit down, “Girls like you make me proud of my dominant side.”
“We enjoy that dominant side,” Emilia says pragmatically, “Because you use it well.”
“Gmmmph! Mmmph!” Xandra is struggling so much, “Mmmph! Gmmm mm mmmmm!”
“Once upon a time,” I say a grin on my face, “I didn’t know how to use it, and I committed such unforgettable, horrid deeds,” my tone is reflective, “I may never be able to show my face back in Credit River, but I can live with myself. I’ve forgiven myself even if they won’t. And now I am able to use my dominant side for consensual, mutual enjoyment in many things. Like eradicating my friends in GTA Online… and in bondage.”
“Uggggghhhhhhh!” Ashley groans, strongly reacting to the taste of Jackie’s socks in her mouth.

Oh, what a symphony of a gagged chorus. The ever-vocal Alexandra. The simply yet feminine Ashley. The guttural but calm roommate of the Ralstons. The pitiful moan of Liz. Leah is quite a dominatrix in her own right, but she’s more for catsuits, paddles, tickling, and staged effects of a theatrical nature. The four unique members of the gag-talk quartet blend into the sounds of our rocket launchers, grenades, cars, AK-47s, pistols, and even a military tank. Only friendship can a night like this be possible, and only in friendship can such bizarre elements blend. Yes, there’s a distinct burn in my crotch, something very few experience in domination. Leah doesn’t.

I don’t know how the combination of dirty socks stuffed in the mouth, a tegaderm, and a bandana OTM gag became my all-time favorite gag with the head harness ball gag a close second. When a gag is laced, it’s much more of an experience for the captive, but I’m considering auditory and visual elements. Lacing is amplification on top of these things. I love the secrecy of the purple bandana OTM gag on Xandra’s lips. No one can really tell that a tegaderm is under that purple bandana or that my socks are stuffed in Xandra’s mouth. All they see is a girl in tight bondage, struggling on a chair, and loudly orgasming from the effects of the vibrator.

For Ashley, the reality is much more obvious with the 6 layers of orange duct tape that I wrapped around her head so tightly that her cheeks no longer could move sideways, restricting her jaw to vertical motions alone. Her problem is that she loves being bound and gagged, and sometimes it can be a bit of a dry performance because she’s so stoic and calm. She carefully uses each of the elements like a drug. Gag talk is to give herself a high from the reminder she cannot speak. Her squirming is to remind herself she cannot move and to remind others of the same. She is not the type to performatively struggle; there must be something personal to gain by it.

I do not get the same thrill from watching Leah’s captives in the little windows. I share with her a distinct passion for domination, though, and there is mutual respect. I do enjoy laughing at the sight of a bound and gagged girl, but it’s just not the same. You can easily understand why such is the case, I think. As part of game night like this, it adds a layer to the joys we all experience. I can sit and imagine what must be stuffed in the roommates’ mouth, though, even if Liz has a big yellow ball gag in her mouth, prying her jaws apart, forcing her to slobber all over herself. Oh, I do love the sight of a slobbering captive, and I know Liz loves the sensations of her captivity. It is different from the thrill of watching Jackie use the army tank to vanquish us all repeatedly.

“Mmmmmph! Mmmmph!” Xandra continues, “GMMmmm mmMMMMMM!”
“C’mon, Felice, help Emilia and me to blast Jackie to hell!” Taylor asks me with a laugh.
“Oh, with delight,” I hiss in that dominatrix tone that makes hearts palpitate.
“Gmmmmmm!” Ashley erotically groans with what must be an orgasm.
“Who’s having more fun? Us or the captives?” Leah asks a fun rhetorical question.
“Us, Leah. Us. You and me. Then the captives. Then the others,” I assure her with a grin.
“Mmmmph!” Xandra throws her head back in an orgasmic cry, “Guhh huhhhhhhh!”
“Look at the smile on Felice’s face,” Emilia says while launching an assault on Jackie.
“Sorry, Jacqueline,” I say before the tank explodes, “Ahhh ha ha haaa!”
“Oh, Felice, I just love that dominatrix laugh,” Leah’s tone oozes a strange admiration.
“Me? Leah Ralston, you look up to me? I’m just a common sadist,” I question her words.

“You care deeply about people. Maybe you get strangely wet from watching your captives suck on dirty socks while suffering in a strangle hogtie, but deep down inside you enjoy it all because it’s on mutual terms. You would never forgive yourself if you hurt someone for real. You’re an ingenious, inimical, yet innocuous individual,” Leah smiles at the camera, “You’ve learned it all the hard way, and you know right from wrong. Yes, I do look up to you as a good example of the right way to dominate another person, even if I get my dominant kicks from different things.”

“Gmmmm!” Ashley has made her decision and is trying to escape the bondage in which she has struggled for the last 90 minutes or so. Yes, indeed. Those first 60 minutes passed so slowly, yet another 30 minutes passed in a blink because I was having fun with my friends in strange and fun ways that can only be described as love. This is the line between bondage and TUGs, in a way. I am personally more comfortable thinking of it as bondage or BDSM, but there is truth to TUGs I have perhaps denied for a long time. BDSM is strictly sexual and psychological; TUGs bridge a perceived gap between BDSM and innocent pleasure. One can enjoy being bound and gagged or binding and gagging without any sexual overtones and without dominant or submissive rushes of hormones. That’s what Leah had that I didn’t. It was all a game to her with set roles, much like a play. Even when her games got into psychology, it was all still a game with laughter. WHAT. AN. EPIPHANY. This is what I have been missing in my relationship with these games.

“Mmmph! Gmmmmm MMMMMM!” Alexandra continued to fight the chair, the ropes, and the wand, “Gmmmph! MMMMMMM!” and the chair slid on the floor to my absolute delight.

Ashley gingerly picks at the many knots that bind her body, but she’s determined. While it’s rare for her to attempt an escape in earnest, she is more than competent at doing so. Maybe she’s not an escape artist, but she’s still an escapist in the most conventional sense. I decided that it was a good time to go visit Alexandra first in anticipation of Ashley’s escape. There was no change to my approach, really, but I felt that it was the right time to move Alexandra to her third and final phase, the one leading to her promised bedtime bondage and sleeping in my bed. No, neither of us is into girls, but cuddling with a carefully bound and gagged girl is so delightful.

“My dears,” I shut down the game, “It’s 10PM, and tomorrow I must do the 8-4 routine again. I bid you all a good night,” I said, and after many well-wishes I went to find my dear Alexandra.

OK, it was pretty funny to see that Alexandra had soaked through both her underwear and jeans from the numerous orgasms. With a dominant flair, I turned off the vibrator, ending nearly two straight hours of vibratory torment, although she’d endured much worse for longer. Fire raged in her eyes until she saw the relaxed, playful look in my own eyes. Gone was the dominatrix from before, and present was the girl that a friend of ours lovingly beknighted as “Gangsta Rogue.”

“Alexandra,” I ask her while she takes several deep breaths, knowing her thirst for bondage, “Do you still want to be my bedtime cuddle toy tonight? Nod your head if you’d like that.”
“Mmmph!” she looks down and blushes, but she weakly nods while keeping up her fight.
“Thank you, for being my friend. Once upon a time, I thought only fellow criminals could show me any kind of love ever again, but you shattered those beliefs,” I say to her before walking over to my container of supplies, “Maybe you should get a change into some of Jackie’s PJs, hmm?”
“Mmm hmm,” she nods her head knowing she needs a shower before changing, too.
“All right, my friend. I’ll be back. Oh, Jacqueline!” I sweetly call, “Help Xandra please.”

I silently enter Jackie’s room to watch Ashley. Ashley is succeeding in her quest to escape. Yes, I know people who could escape this in 10 to 20 minutes, but there is no shame in 45 minutes for an escape because many, if not most, would not be able to escape at all. I admire the few of us who are blessed to have this talent. Symbolically, it’s opposite Ashley’s reality; she escaped a childhood of unspeakable horrors only through an unspeakable horror that haunts me. I read that newspaper article. It’s seared in my brain. It now haunts me more than why I went to prison. It says something that Ashley’s story was enough to convince Xandra that she wanted to become a juvenile justice attorney in particular out of all the branches of law.

“Gmmmmmmm!” Ashley orgasms and sags into Jackie’s moonlight bedding—navy blue with a backdrop of white stars and the moon—a reference to Jackie’s own past life as a teenage thief.
“Xandra’s in the shower,” Jackie soon entered the room, “Oh, sorry,” she saw my strange smile.
“No, it’s OK,” I say, my eyes fixated on Ashley, “I was just quietly thanking God for everyone.”
“Jackie, I’m going to need your scarves. Please, prepare a scarf gag in the safe way with some showering girl’s sopping wet panties in the middle,” I say, feeling playful for once.
“Felice, I’ve seen you in it all. I’ve never seen you so content,” Jackie smiles and leaves.
“Hmmph!” Ashley finally gets the hogtie undone, but she’s so far from escaping this bondage.
“Ashley,” I decide to tease her, “Either let me untie you, or I’ll tape mummify you and keep you here all night just like that, including the vibrator,” and I giggle because… I like these emotions.

I wonder how Xandra will feel about that gag. After all, she was tied up for over 2 hours, and it was all quite intense with only vibrator-induced orgasms. With her refractory period of vibrator orgasms… She probably orgasmed 25-40 times during that time. Those panties are going to be absolutely soaked. No wonder her jeans looked like she had urinated! That’s going to make an incredible gag, and Xandra will never stop talking about how much she loved it. I just know it. This happiness is so foreign to me, but it’s better to find it just shy of 29 years old than never.

Five minutes later, Ashley is sitting in a mass of rope, and she pulls the American flag bandana down to her neck like it’s a proud neck scarf instead of a former blindfold. She unpeels all 6 of the layers of orange duct tape and smiles while pulling Jackie’s socks out of her mouth. There is a distinct joy in her eyes in spite of it all. She has had a hard life, but right now she is happy here in the safety of the Gangsta Rogue, beloved dominatrix to so many Cool Girls and Bondagettes.

“Merci, mon amie, apparemment, le bondage n'était pas assez serré,” she teases me in French.
“I’m not going to pretend I understand that,” I brush her hair back, but she puts her pink bandana headband back to just the right spot, and she giggles a little bit from the overdose of hormones.
“Ma chère, you are a precious friend to me, and I thank you for exceeding my hopes,” she grins.
“Would you like to spend the night here?” I choose to show some hospitality.
“I already brought my things for that,” she laughs again, “But I must be very secure for that.”
“I won’t fail you because, Ashley, you’re my friend, and your happiness is my happiness.”
“Hard to believe you are the despondent nihilist I met in prison 11 years ago,” her tone is sweet.
“Actually, 11 years,” I choke on my words, “to be exact. To the day. Why did I do it, Ashley?”
“Why,” her French accent somehow made her tears more meaningful, “did I pull the trigger?”
“How could I be such a monster? I still cannot believe I did such a stupid and heinous thing.”
“Ah, but, mon amie, you now use your skills for good at least. You made me happy tonight.”
“I’ve forgiven myself. But Credit River? They’ll never forgive me for what I did.”
“What matters,” she put her hands on my shoulder, “is that you're here and loved. I know you've forgiven yourself, but now, sweet Felice, let us celebrate the new you, the you with edgy dogtags and 30-plus saint medals around her neck. The new Felice who wishes to be a good person.”
“I miss my mother so much,” I embrace her and start sobbing.

Ashley cuddles me. She gets it. I can't go into it, but her story is tragic. She lost her parents the day that ruined her life forever, and she has been alone here in America—the lone Calland—for 14 years. Her French accent is a tribute to the life she’ll never reclaim, and she speaks alone on the phone when speaking to relatives back home in France. My mom has been gone for 16 long sad years, and I’m sure she cried. My mom didn't go to church, but she believed in God. I have a duty of love to pray that someday she and I will get to be together up there. Tears give way to warmth, and soon I am pink fleece pajamas and holding that gag for Alexandra, who has a smile on her face. Only Ashley and I know what happened in that room, and now Ashley is the one in the shower. Leah was the first step; Xandra was the second; Ashley was the third. To true joy.

“Open up, Alexandra,” I hold the big knotted scarf, “this gag is special and just for you.”
“But what's inside that Mmmmmmmmph!” I asked her to open up, and she opened up!
“Oh, just those panties in which you orgasmed 25 or 40 times while you were tied up before, “ I say it as if it is completely mundane and normal and knot the gag, “They were dripping wet.”
“Huh?! Nmmmmmmm!” she instantly transforms into a damsel in distress just for my joy.

Scarves bound her wrists and elbows together behind her back and tied her legs together right at her ankles, below her knees, and above her knees. It was all I needed, and I wrapped the scarf to gag her around her head a second time, pulling both tails through her mouth as two more cleave gags, before double knotting it at the nape of her neck. She had pink pajamas, but hers were of a silky smooth fabric. But we both had pants and button up long-sleeve shirts.

Xandra and I got under the covers, her growling into her orgasm-soaked panties until a squeeze of her breasts calmed her down. More like she just wanted me to do that and was acting up so I would do something like that. For once, I was in bed… and I was smiling. Ashley was off with Destiny or Jackie, my sweet housemates, in her own bedtime bondage, but here I was with a cute Xandra… I… I can say it… Xandra stuffie… because TUGs are as fun as bondage. Smiling.

THE END

[LunaDog]

That's quite a story you have treated us to.

[AlexUSA3]

That's quite a story you have treated us to.

These Game Night stories bring a variety of adventures and chaos in ways you just wouldn't imagine!

[hafnermg]

Excellent story!!