Which is unlike never shy full speed and damn the consequences me but, I've been burned. And at some point you either take some level of precautions or else bad things happen.
Really. Bad. Things.
I have a list. Daniel, whom I trust, a close friend and owner of his own site. Together we sat down some time ago and vetted our way through the majority of bondage sites and models in the UK, and a scattering from further afield. Together we narrowed a towering stack down to those few he, or I had worked with before.
Safe people, to which Sonya- a friend to a friend of Daniel's, so a small risk back at that first meeting -is now added. But.
But.
These people we'll be seeing in Scotland, I don't know them. And whilst I trust Sonya not to be walking us. Me. Into a trap, I can't help the nerves.
"So I had a thought." Turning to grin at Sonya as we stand side by side, brushing our teeth. Luckily tender stomach aside, because I rarely eat greasy food or mountains of chocolate, I'm feeling okay. Drink doesn't tend to do much except dry out my mouth the following morning, for which I drink a crap ton of water.
Sonya, side glancing at me and maybe it's due to her less strict eating habits. She seems fine.
"Go on then."
"Well." Spitting, rinsing my toothbrush. "You're basically my pimp on this trip."
"That right?" Raised eyebrow, rinsing too.
"Yes." Nodding. "I mean." Throwing my arm out in an expansive gesture. "All these other models and riggers, that you organised." Blowing her a kiss. "Farming me out."
"Now there's a thought." Faking. I think? Musing. "Maybe next time I've got you all bound and gagged I should make some phone calls."
"Fuck off Red." Laughing even whilst a montage of thoughts and images rush through my head, knees going briefly weak and a tingle erupting across my nipples.
Could she?
Would she?
And just what would I do, how welcoming would I be, if she- or anyone -did?
I flick water at Sonya, she sticks out her tongue, and the world turns again.
We're taking the Hayabusa today, easier for shoots as it'll save on either a ton of walking or expensive train and taxi fares. Easier to cart the stuff around too, rope and my laptop, cameras and things we won't always need because some of the people Sonya's pimping- not really but I can't let the joke lie now -me out to have their own stuff.
But not Hayley.
"You must be Plymouth."
"Hopefully." Smiling back. "And you're Hayley, or am I about to be bound next to the wrong girl?"
Which earns me a laugh.
The House deserves that capital letter, it's posh. Posh, a capital here too perhaps? One of twenty-one, all large detached models with spacious gardens that put distance between each. Driveways, my Hayabusa sitting next to a gleaming red Ferrari something model? Long driveways and everything only accessible via an entrance gate which Sonya had to climb off and input an actual key code to enter.
This little corner of wealth sitting just outside the city.
And Hayley is quite clearly posh- Posh, ha -too. Toned and tanned, a size eight and everything perfect as only someone who doesn't work despite being twenty, someone with all the spare time in the world to work on project you. Rounded and pert D cups, enhanced like mine, perfectly bouncy. Blonde hair in ringlets falls around her shoulders. Perfect.
Stepping inside, I move aside, Sonya stepping through behind me.
"Hey, Hayley."
"Sonya." Brief blush, flustered. "Flame, I mean."
And bizarrely Sonya seems flustered too, because what follows is like an awkward pause, eyes darting all across each other.
And then stepping in to hug.
Where's- kidding, but it's weird -mine?
"The poolhouse is this way."
"Right." Poolhouse?
Hayley, flip flops slapping across plush carpet and expensive looking tile leads us through what I'm assuming is her parents house. Sorry, House. Art hangs off every wall, and there's an actual grandfather clock slowly tick tocking away in the hall. Through a kitchen you could cook for thirty in, and back doors thrown wide, stepping onto a patio. Large built in barbecue and two round tables.
One in the sun the other under a shady gazebo.
Ahead, across a lawn cut to- you guessed it -perfection, sits a second smaller house, one story with glass all across the front and open skylights in the slanted wooden roof. Like an oversize conservatory.
And very hot inside.
The main space is dominated by a large pool, diving board at one end and several inflatables bobbing around. Half closed doors presumably lead off towards Hayley's actual living spaces. Kitchen and a bedroom? Bathroom?
Who the fuck lives in a poolhouse?
"We're shooting in here?"
"What?" Turning and I've caught them staring, at each other. Again. "Sure," Hayley waves a hand without looking at me, "wherever. Um...."
"Plymouth."
Managing not to huff, not mad, annoyed. But.
Something going on, something that doesn't matter right now, but I'll be having a quiet word with Sonya later.
"Plymouth." Nodding, and a half smile. "Yes." Gesturing, arms out wide to sweep the space. "I thought, with the theme, outfits and crap that this would be a good backdrop?"
"It's perfect." Don't say perfect damn it.
I grin, which feels too wide.
Nothing wrong, see.
I get a more open, wider smile, Hayley apparently liking the praise. Her smile triggering a small pop, a sudden mini epiphany which roots grow deeper as Hayley turns her smile on Sonya, who smiles back, nodding.
"Yes, this'll be-"
"-Perfect." Stealing the word, getting odd looks off them both when I laugh afterwards.
I don't care.
Sonya sets up, considering angles, moving a couple of cushion covered wooden framed reclining chairs out of one corner, giving us clear space. And whilst she does this, unpacking the ropes and cameras. Checking.
I go over the contract with Hayley.
"First shoot?"
"Yes." Nodding, still giving the sheet of paper- I'd printed everything out before leaving Owl Wood, an interesting use of Forestry Commission resources to say the least -a confused, frown filled stare.
"It's simple enough." Pointing as I explain. "Date and we both sign at the bottom, space for your banking so I can transfer funds afterwards."
Funds she quite clearly doesn't need, but business is business and it isn't my place to question such things.
"And above that it's all description, what Sonya and you worked out. Right?"
"Yes." Sounding more confident, tapping a particular line. "And, it'll be Flame binding me?"
"Binding us." Noting her hopeful face. "Yes."
Which becomes a nervous looking grin.
Hayley's already wearing her bikini, pale blue silk robe loosely belted when she greeted us, removed now, along with her shoes for the shoot.
Predictably, given she's clearly some kind of pampered Princess the triangle top and matching tiny thong bottoms are baby pink, white trim and side ties on the bottoms, the halter top continues to a pink knot behind her neck, white band lower down.
My own, which I change into, in the way too large bathroom. Who needs a shower and a bath? Mine is a particularly slutty looking one piece we found yesterday: mostly luminous green, the piping black. Tiny straps and a very low scooped neck out of which my F cups fight, pressed together by the tight fitting material, looking as though ready to explode free. The material runs around the back, a wide green band, but plunges down at front and back in a tapering V that leaves my entire sides exposed, becoming thong like between the legs.
Not something you could wear to a public pool.
"Right." Sonya. Flame, looking hot in jeans and tee, turning to smile at us. "You look great."
"Perfect." Unable not to, feeling in an odd mood.
"Yes." Raised eyebrow at me. I smirk back, but keep silent. "Right. Well. Plymouth first?"
"Sure." I shrug.
So Hayley watches Flame, Sonya returning later, of course. Hayley watches as Flame binds me. And I see her mouth open and close several times, as though to speak.
But she doesn't.
And then I, now laid on the warm tile flooring: a blue and white checkerboard design where each square is about a foot across each side. I watch Flame bind Hayley.
Watch Flame's usual 'in the zone' like Domme facade crack multiple times, messing up twice and having to restart. Watch Hayley bite her lip often, eyes closed for most of the tie.
We're bound into matching hogties: wrists and ankles crossed, wrapped and pinned by the coarse light brown rope I favour. Just those two ropes and then a third to make the tie a hogtie, and that third isn't too tight, our limbs are close but I can't feel my ankles. There's plenty of room left for wriggling.
Which is the plan.
Most of the shoots we'll do in Scotland are for other sites, but a couple, this one included are for Jester's Revenge.
An escape video. So.
"Just here." Flame's hands, pressing a small length of rope into mine. I grip it tightly. "Plymouth. When the time comes Hayley needs to pull that, and your wrist ropes should loosen."
"Right." I nod, pitch my voice higher. "You heard that okay, Hayley?"
Semi shouting because she's laid behind me, I'm on my side and she's.
I've no clue, only that she's behind me.
"I got it." Voice slightly shaky. First time nerves? "How long do I wait?"
"I'll give you both a signal." Flame, and I roll over, struggle over onto my back to see her kneeling beside Hayley.
Looking at each other- she's on her belly, face tilted sideways -again.
Flame ballgags us both, steps back and I hear the clicking and tapping of laptop and cameras.
"Okay." Her voice carrying easily in the silence. "Filming."
And afterwards, editing, I'll see Flame slow walked one of the cameras from the poolhouse door all the way around the pool. Setting the scene, showing the still water whilst Hayley's and my soft moans hinted at what was to be found up ahead.
Clever girl.
I don't particularly like escape videos, because I don't particularly like escaping.
Which is a lie.
The truth is I hate. Hate hate hate escaping. It should be banned, outlawed.
But there's a market for them. So why not have one.
I've rolled onto my belly before shooting starts, laid side by side with Hayley, a hogtied pair. She looks at me, and having counted to ten I give a small nod.
And off we go.
Struggling in fits and starts, which actually comes across- editing later -and works really well. A couple of occasions aside we aren't motionless at the same time. Straining and stretching against the ropes, exchanging glances, and when I moan at Hayley, shaking my body. She answers with the same.
I roll first, onto my side, bouncing and squirming across the small gap, bringing my body into contact with hers, my F cups now rubbing up and down her side.
Until Hayley rolls too, putting us chest to chest. Utterly useless for escaping but it gives us the opportunity to dry hump each other.
In the script. Honest.
It- Flame looming over us, camera in hand zooming in, capturing our sweating breasts squashed together, our gagged faces inches apart, almost rubbing ball against ball -actually is.
I roll, fighting the ropes whilst Hayley searches in vain for a loose knot, bringing myself around so my back is to her, my feet by her face.
Reaching back with my hands to grope her- perfect, sorry but ha -breasts. Hayley moaning, forgetting her struggles and instead thrusting her chest at me, letting me tease her breasts free, exposing them.
Flame looming again, filming.
And then Hayley rolls, awkward and I briefly roll away onto my belly, giving her room and attempting my own search for loose rope.
Which I'm holding, but don't reveal yet.
Rolling back in and now we're- again -back to back.
Signal from Flame. And Hayley's hands fumbling at my wrists, so I release the rope end.
Feel my wrist rope slacken moments later.
And a minute later I'm shaking the ropes off me, sitting up and reaching down to free my ankles.
Covered in sweat, it really is hot in here.
"Fffddddlllpppp."
"What?" Gag unbuckled and flung away I turn to face Hayley, grinning. "You still bound and gagged?"
"Mmnnggggfffppp." On her side facing me, bouncing and stretching out, thrusting her breasts and body towards me. "Gggddrrrsssmmnnn."
Begging. Please.
"Can't we just leave her like this?" Looking at the camera. Flame.
All in the script.
"No?" Teasing smile as I look at Hayley, who bounces some more in obvious agitation. "Fine." From sitting to kneeling, crawling on my knees body upright towards Hayley. "Hang on I'm coming."
Which, freeing Hayley, is where I'll cut the video when I edit. Fading to black on her halfway free, her own gag removed and flung.
Should we of stayed? Swum in the pool, enjoyed that barbecue?
We didn't.
Back to the campsite, Sonya running the saddlebags and frame back inside our posh tent, locking everything safely away before hopping back on behind me.
Riding back towards and this time into Glasgow. Letting the Hayabusa- falcon, it means -fly. Engine howling, leaning into corners trusting Sonya to do the same. Feeling that grinning sense of freedom, of being untouchable and fucking invincible.
Fastest thing on the road, in the whole world.
Chase me.
Easing down, slow over speedbumps and into the dimness of an underground car park.
Angry idle and Sonya climbing off, walking the bike backwards into a space nestled amongst other bikes.
Killing the noise and climbing off, helmet unbuckled and off, jacket unzipped and suddenly Sonya's body pressed into mine, her face right there, kissing me as the welcoming weight of her presses in.
"Fuck. Blue." She's grinning, eyes alive and dancing, small adrenaline shivers chasing across her a mirror to my own, the slow comedown from all the excess speed. "That was amazing."
"Wasn't it." Grinning back. "Not scary?"
"Fucking." A quick laugh. "I mean, sure. But." Blowing out a breath, hand through her bright red hair. "Wow."
"Wow." Agreeing, leaning in to kiss her back.
Like any city there's so much to do in Glasgow. Scotland as a whole really we've had to plan how to make the best use of limited time.
And tomorrow we leave, so before dinner we'll wander the Necropolis.
A huge imposing church, gothic in style multiple tall columns surrounding and supporting the structure, slanted green roof. And in the grounds a city of the dead, tombstones and scattered trees.
There are tours but we choose to wander freely instead, paying the entrance fee and taking our time at both church and graveyard. Pointing out interesting features and those stones baring particularly old dates.
And all the while my epiphany sits there, waiting. Not anything I need to shout and scream out, not a bad thing, on a bad versus good scale. I'm not upset, pissed off.
What I am is curious. Am I right? And, why?
"Would you ever get married?"
"Would I...." What?
We're outside, stood close together staring up, taking in the vaulting architecture. Sonya's left field question coming into the silence like a dropped bomb.
"I would've." Facing her, letting Sonya see the sadness leaking in. "I don't remember everything." Tapping my head.
"Because of that bad crash?"
"Just so." Nodding. "But. Lili." Small shiver at her name, happy memories, what few I have, racing through me as a fast brief flood. "She was my first real love, and. Had she lived...."
Spreading my arms wide, palms up and lifting one corner of my mouth at Sonya.
Had she lived.
"Nobody since?"
"Well." Smiling wider, glad to move along. "I mean. I've dated...."
"But nothing lasted?"
"I'm pretty good at fucking it up." Smile becoming rueful. It isn't always my fault.
Deborah far too controlling, which for a time I'd welcomed until it became too constrictive, and then having fought free I sometimes miss her.
I think.
Others, some I remember better then others and even Deborah. Ash haired Kraken inked Deborah, I'm honestly not sure how much is fact and how much fantasy as my fogged mind attempts to fill the holes I was left with post crash.
"I'd like to marry."
"One day." I nod, agreeing and Sonya shoots me a look.
Panicked.
"Oh." Nudging her, playful. "I knew you weren't proposing. Red. Calm it down and breathe. I meant yes, me too I'd like to marry someday."
"Right." Reaching out and pulling me into a hug. "I wouldn't not marry you. Blue. It's just. Well. I'm still young and you're. What?" Grinning as I look at her. "Almost thirty or something."
"Fuck off you." Laughing, pushing and Sonya falls over backwards onto the grass, laughing too.
I'm nowhere near thirty. Fucking cheek.
"You'd be lucky to have me." Helping her up. "I'll have you know I'm quite a catch."
"Right." Still laughing a little. "Sure Blue. Sorry Blue."
"Fuck off." But laughing again.
And we hug, share a smile. Kiss.
Walk back out into the city, finding an Italian pizzeria for dinner.
"So. Look." Talking whilst we wait for food: mushrooms and several different cheeses for me, pepperoni with ham and spicy sausage for Sonya, plus a garlic bread I'll only have a small piece of. Not wanting to further mess up my now healed belly.
Talking as we wait, and eat.
"I'm not mad."
"About what?"
"About Hayley."
"Why would you be mad about Hayley?" Either covering well or she's genuinely clueless.
"Because there's something." Waving the straw out of my orange juice at her. "Some. Tension or whatever. I felt." Dipping the straw into her drink and stirring it. Fast. Playing and Sonya tuts but smiles. "So spill. Red." Finding her hand across the table. "What's the history because you told me you owed her. But...?"
"Yeah. Okay." A shrug. "I didn't realise it'd be weird."
Quick laugh and shaken head.
"Should've known better, and told you. Sorry."
"It's fine." Because it is. "And you don't have to tell me shit." Although I kinda want to know. "But...."
Looking at her, small friendly smile.
Up to you.
"I've never had a 'real' slave." Smiling as I smile at her airquotes. I can't not be amused when people mime doing them.
"I'm not even sure if that's what I want." A shrug. "Not denying the appeal. And when my bloods up all I want is to collar and own y...."
Small tingle, twitch in my lips.
Had she been about to say- me -you?
"But." Stopping to take a, shaky, breath. Blinking at me. "When I was younger, figuring out who I wanted to be. Did I like girls? Was I into ropes and if so how? There was a forum."
"Online?"
"Online." A nod. "Tons of sites out there for bondage, for chatting and posting whatever."
"And you met Hayley online?" Feeling the need to help, some stories are told solo, but the atmosphere between us is relaxed, and Sonya seems to appreciate my helping the flow.
"On a messaging site." Nodding. "We got talking, which led to more talking. And somehow." A shrugged laugh. "She winds up becoming my online slave."
Somehow. No doubt she knows how, but I'd meant it about not needing to know, so if she wants to keep the details out of this so be it.
"An." Thinking. "Online slave?"
"I used to set her challenges." Looking at her hand, lifting fingers as she mentions each thing, the list expanding. "Maybe gag herself and go out food shopping with a scarf to cover it. Self bondage."
"Which sucks."
"Yeah?" Laughing, regarding me. "Does it?"
"Can't properly bind myself if I need to free myself after can I."
"Right." Nodding. "Maybe you'll have to show me?"
"But then it won't be self bondage." Reaching out to twirl my finger around a strand of her hair. Teasing. "Because after I'm bound you'll just step in and make it so I actually am stuck."
Eyes locking. Spark jumping the gap.
"And the problem with that is?"
"Oh." Shaking my head, releasing her hair, my hand trailing down the front of her tee, over those humped E cups. "No problem. I'm yours anytime you want to bind me."
Caught breath from us both. Did I just say that?
Sonya grins, I grin back.
"So you told her. Um. Ordered her?"
"As well you can order someone across the wires and distance." Nodding. "I told her to do things, and she did them, and sometimes sent me proof."
"And." Realising, guessing but knowing I'm right. "You only met her the first time today?"
"Weird." Grabbing her last slice. "Huh?"
"So why not see her before?" A second question almost popping into my head on the back of it. "Why did it end?"
"We just drifted apart." A shrug. "I was still young, not ready to meet. And you know online it's so fucking easy to walk away. So."
"She left?" Taking a bite from my own last slice. "Or you?"
"Mutual." A shrug. "Or it felt so to me. Things just ran out of steam, all natural."
"And then you hooked back up with her for today?"
"We still messaged. Rarely." Thinking. Drawing some kind of quick doodle with her finger on the table. "When I had the Scotland trip idea, for us. I had to think of models and sites I trusted, for us to visit."
"And you trusted her."
Makes sense. And of course Hayley would want to. Finally. See her old online Domme.
"And now you've seen her?"
"Now I've seen her what?" Frowning.
"Will you see her some more?" Keeping my tone neutral. Level. Because we aren't dating, and I'd miss her, but there's nothing concrete keeping her beside me.
It'd be her choice.
"You could go tie her up a bunch of times, play for real in that huge poolhouse."
"I mean." Laughing. "Fucking thing was bigger then my parents whole house and its just for a damn pool."
"I know." Smiling wide.
"I don't think so though." Shaking her head. "Can't say never. But. Sure it was fun to tie her up, but there was no spark. No...."
There's a mini Tesco, a combination garage and shop not far out from the site. On final approach. I ease the Hayabusa in and Sonya jumps off, grabbing two bottles of Pepsi and stuffing them inside her jacket.
We'll probably have a proper drink tomorrow night, once we arrive in Inverness, our second stop.
Back at the tent I lock the bike whilst Sonya takes our helmets inside, arranging the two fold out chairs our tent came with, placing both outside the door.
Where we sit, watching the sunset and talking mostly idle rubbish. Telling stories and voicing our various dreams.
Until.
"Didn't like watching you escape earlier Blue."
"I'll bet." Laughing, looking across and noting Sonya's serious face, which only makes me laugh harder. "Some girl gets tied up, they stay tied up. Right?"
"Well." Smiling, not laughing but her demeanour shifting down into playful. "Yes."
"Suppose if you had your way I'd still be hogtied on the poolhouse floor?"
"What and leave you for Hayley to play with?"
And now she does laugh.
"S' okay." Leaning across to pat her leg. "I hated it too."
"For real?" Sceptical, am I teasing?
"For real." I nod. "I totally get the fighting, struggling and trying to escape. But for me bondage is something the bad guy should always win."
"Bad girl."
"Yes you are."
"No." Tutting at me. "I meant the bad. Girl. Not guy, should win."
"Right." Not seeing a difference.
"You want a retake." Some minutes later, the sun nothing more then a red line, all around us dusk has turned everywhere to shadows. I look at Sonya but can't see detail. "Don't you?"
"I don't want to fetch all the cameras." Did she shake her head? "I want to-"
"-Bind me again and this time I won't escape."
Interrupting.
"Is that so bad?"
"Well." And she can't see me smile. "I might be tired."
"Doubt it."
"Really tired." Arms out, fake stretching. "With a splitting headache."
"Blue you're a fucking liar." Playful tone.
"I could take you by force."
"Fucking," snort of laughter although in truth I don't know, "doubt it. I'd fight you."
"Which just means I'd wind up tying you twice as hard."
"Probably."
Seeing Sonya stand, stretch. Feeling an anticipation, tingle like deep in my belly.
"Blue."
"Red."
"Get that cute little rope slut butt into the tent."
"Okay." Standing too, finishing my drink and stepping inside, Sonya following.
And by the time I've stripped naked, because why not, and used the toilet Sonya's stripped naked too, has looked out and piled up a literal ton of rope.
"Didn't use that much earlier." Being difficult, pointing.
"No." Shake of her head, a length in hand as she steps closer. "And maybe that's why you escaped."
"Fair enough." Nodding like agreeing. "Carry on then general."
With a smile, a kiss to my cheek, she does.
It's called a chicken wing, and it's really.
Fucking.
Tight.
Sonya binds my wrists together, side by side but in such a fashion that my hands are pressed against and splayed out left and right across the tops of my butt cheeks, palms down. This somehow- I've never understood the how of it -pushes my forearms directly upwards away from my body, with my upper arms angling back in equally straight.
More rope above the elbows, and my arms now resemble small wings arching back off my body.
She binds my chest next, rope above and below plus somehow around the shoulders to further pin my arms back. My F cups are squeezed, the rope diving between them and back up, separating each breast.
Helping me up onto then lowering me down to lay on my belly, on the bed.
Binding my legs together: ankle and below the knee, upper thigh. Finally, a last rope linking elbows and ankles, which Sonya pulls and yanks. Grunting, forcing my trussed body into an arch, forcing me tighter and tighter.
Stepping back, leaving me panting, body a mass of pinched feelings. Turned on.
"Say hi Plymouth."
"What?" Wriggling, roll left, right. Left and struggle, managing to roll onto my side. Looking at and spotting Sonya, camera in hand.
Filming me, grinning.
"Flame?"
"That's right." Turning the camera around, waving into the lens, blowing a kiss before returning it to face me. "I thought your fans would like to see what I've done. To you."
"Fucking." Quick laugh bubbling up and out. "Trussed me up is what."
"Well," laughing too, "shouldn't leave rope just lying around the tent then huh."
"Can she escape though." Sounding genuinely thoughtful, standing beside the bed camera angled down capturing my whole front. "That's the question."
"Well." Stretching, pushing my body towards the camera, F cups leading the way. "Since it's your rope skills here." I smile. Tease. "Probably take me about ten minutes."
"Not five?"
"Ten." Another grin. "You do have a little bit of talent after all."
"Cheeky bitch." Laughing. "Ten minutes then."
Turning the camera back to herself. "And if she doesn't." Winking at the- me -camera. "I get to play."
"Three." Turning the camera back to me.
"Two. One."
And I really do try, making myself sweaty, messing the covers up. Rolling all across and up and down the bed, almost falling off at one point.
One my side, body bouncing up and down, wriggling and bucking. Breasts, shaking as I fight.
Flame moving in, two times: near the start and towards the end. I tone down the struggles to smaller less erratic movements, letting her get close, panning all the way up then back down me. Camera lingering on squeezed breasts and wet pussy. On my flushed face.
I make a smile for the camera. Lick my lips. Moan seductively.
See Flames hand stray to her breast, finger flicking across her nipple as she films me, clearly becoming aroused.
"Aaaaannnnnnnd." I flop, a defeated mess, ropes not even a little loose, letting out a huffed breath and shaking hair off my face as Flame announces. "Times up Plymouth."
"Well." Looking into the lens, small wriggle to prove my failure. "Shit."
"Indeed." Grin in her voice. "So. I win."
"I guess you do." Looking beyond the lens whilst still looking at it. A nod. "I'm all yours."
"Say goodbye Plymouth."
"Goodbye Plymouth." A smile. A final stretch, a final thrust and push of my breasts and pussy at the camera. And Flame shuts it all down.
And a moment later Sonya drops down onto the bed beside me.
"Have fun did we?"
"What." Grinning, caressing my breast. "That wasn't a good idea?"
"No." Pushing my chest towards her. "It was great. Thanks Red."
"Just a random thought I had." A shrug, still tracing patterns over my F cup. "If the footage turns out crap just delete it. All good."
"Proved you can't escape though."
"Maybe if I had an hour?"
"No." Shutting down my teasing. "I think you're all stuck in my bondage, Blue."
"Got what you wanted then." Slightly breathless, her change in tone firing something deep inside me. "Made me your little rope bitch."
"Yes."
Kissing each of my breasts in turn, Scooting down to kiss my pussy, and at each I moan, squirm.
Back up Sonya comes, planting a kiss on my lips.
"Is that a problem?"
"No." Eyes closing as she licks my nipple. "I didn't have aaaaannnnyyyyyy." Forced to stop as she bites down on the erect bud.
"Fffuuuuuucckkkkkkk. Red."
"What." Giving the now gently throbbing nipple a twist. Making me hiss in pleasure. "Going to stop me?"
"I." Rocking, frustrated, by the torture of her teasing. "Can't."
"Going to tell me to stop?"
"No." Looking her in the eye, prehaps as close as I've ever come to admitting I actually enjoy being a slut. "Not tonight."
But instead of continuing, taking full advantage Sonya rolls away, onto her back head resting on both hands, legs crossed.
Staring at the tent roof.
"I want you bound all night. Blue." Not looking at me. "I'm getting fucking tingles thinking about falling asleep next to you all trussed up."
"Ohhh kay."
Her words are giving me tingles too.
"But not bound like that." Shaking her head. "It's too fucking extreme for long term. So." Tilting her head to regard me. "If I free you, are you going to be good and submit to being bound again?"
Asking. Not the outright boss of me, so she's asking.
A strange little dance. Asking, but still we're both tossing out words like submit. Slut.
Rope bitch.
I struggle closer, puffing and grunting, bound body bouncing stretching as I move caterpillar style, dragging myself and Sonya watching me come.
Rolling onto her side at the last so her breasts are pressed into mine, her hand loosely cupping my butt.
"Yes." Straining forward to kiss her. "If you free me. Red. I promise to be a good slut and submit to being bound however you desire."
"Because I won."
"You did."
"I caught you, and you couldn't get out."
"I couldn't escape your amazingly tight and restrictive bondage."
Words turning me on, feeling my body on autopilot beginning to roll against hers. Hump like motions. Rubbing.
Sonya grips me tighter, butt and breast, beginning to rub herself against me, matching my flow.
"I." Kissing me, hand squeezing a nipple. "Fucking love. Can't ever get enough of you bound Blue."
"Yes." Thoughts losing coherence, just her and the ropes and me. "I'm all yours tonight Red."
"Only tonight?" Grinning as we kiss.
Moaning, from deep inside it comes, rattling up through me and out as Sonya's hand finds my pussy. Rubbing, taking full advantage of bound and helpless me.
Enjoying herself, my trussed body starting to buck, losing control her words and her ropes, her fingers at my core.
She shifts. Sliding out, body a blur of movement and suddenly the warmth of her crotch is pushed into my face. Sonya's legs clamping around my head, pressing herself onto me.
Forcing me to smell her scent, her pussy against my mouth.
Feeling her own tongue beginning to work on mine, dipping in and out, exploring and I return the favour.
Pressing against her clit. Gently sucking and licking as Sonya begins to hump me, her hands reaching down between us, finding and restarting the abuse of my nipples.
"I." Muffled, leg beginning to spasm, hearing Sonya's hard panting from somewhere close by. Both of us close now.
And.
Body locking save that one leg, which cant move but is desperately trying. The orgasm rips me in two even as I feel Sonya let go her own.
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑3 weeks ago
Overall they are having quite the trip!
Which has barely begun, Glasgow merely the first of several stops, at least four most likely more. Largely depending on my own staying power.
(See Fayth, if I run out of steam, or an idea for what to do next occurs and I become Impatient to get to it)
Fair enough.
-
RopeBunny wrote: ↑3 weeks ago
I flick water at Sonya, she sticks out her tongue, and the world turns again.
Fun little exchange - not just this part, but the entire thing. Very natural dialogue between them.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑3 weeks ago
"Hey, Hayley."
"Sonya." Brief blush, flustered. "Flame, I mean."
And bizarrely Sonya seems flustered too, because what follows is like an awkward pause, eyes darting all across each other.
And then stepping in to hug.
Where's- kidding, but it's weird -mine?
Indeed! But jokes aside, a very telling few sentences.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑3 weeks ago
I don't particularly like escape videos, because I don't particularly like escaping.
Which is a lie.
The truth is I hate. Hate hate hate escaping. It should be banned, outlawed.
But there's a market for them. So why not have one.
A totally unsurprising bit of insight into Brooke's character.
And an interesting bit of backstory between Sonya and Hayley. Not exactly what I had been predicting, but makes sense.
Still the continuing dance between Sonya and Brooke as well. Both seeming unsure about if they should commit (or want to commit) - both almost daring each other to make the first move. Enjoying the moments, but reluctant to go further. Brooke's reasons are known, Sonya's are harder to pin down, although have been hinted at.
And here I come, logging in to dump/post a couple of new chapters and expecting to do so right below my last effort.
And yet here you are dropping a comment and spoiling- but not really obviously because a comment is ALWAYS welcome -my plan.
Of course thank you for doing so.
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
And an interesting bit of backstory between Sonya and Hayley. Not exactly what I had been predicting, but makes sense.
Might. Might? Be some foreshadowing going on there, depending on whether I have the steam and will to execute, and whether I'm remembering what foreshadowing means
The point being Hayley might- might -return. If I decide.
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
Still the continuing dance between Sonya and Brooke as well. Both seeming unsure about if they should commit (or want to commit)
A lot of this is simply that it still suits me to have them be casual. Fuck buddies and not an actual couple.
The story works better if Brooke is a free agent, because there are others out there I want her to interact with and she can't if she's committed to Sonya.
So Sonya being eighteen, unwilling to be tied- ha -down, is working for me.
I'm a good girl. Slut. Rope bitch or whatever. But not slave. Can't really be a slave when Sonya's asking if she can do a thing. And were she to demand I wouldn't mind.
Obviously.
But her asking isn't taking any of my submissive tingles away.
Freed of the somewhat extreme hogtie I stretch, climbing out of bed to do so, to use the bathroom and to down a little water.
Then Sonya binds me back up: laid on my back, body a straight arrow line down one side of the bed, arms lifted above my head and legs together. Bound at ankle and wrist, rope fed through the frame and underneath, pulled tight to pull my muscles taut. Stretching me.
Pinning me in place.
"Comfortable, Blue?"
"I am," flexing my body, tugging at wrists and ankles, expecting and finding no slack, "more comfortable yes."
"Good."
Making herself comfortable too, laying down and shifting, finding a good spot not cuddling me but still close.
"Will you tell me about them?"
"Them?" Rolling my head to the side and honestly I'd thought she was asleep, letting myself free- in my head at least -to float and drift wherever the wind blows me.
Wandering idle thoughts, knowing that despite the tie being semi comfortable it'll still take awhile to slow down and relax into sleep. It isn't easy for me to slow and calm down whilst bound. It isn't easy to climb down off the high.
"Red?"
"Your ink." She's in shadow, as am I even to myself. Just a single low light in here. I don't see her arm move, but feel it, stroking upwards from my belly, gliding right to avoid the hump of my canon breast and trailing down the arm.
I shiver.
"Will you tell me about the ink?"
"You mean the how and why?"
"The how and the why." Hand resting on my belly and Sonya snuggling in close, one leg over both of mine, heat of her crotch on my hip. Her head resting on my shoulder, voice a low whisper like sharing secrets.
I match her volume.
"Sure." Slight shift, not making myself more comfortable, because that's an impossibility whilst this tightly stretched, but wriggling all the same. Sonya kisses my cheek.
"I've forgotten some stuff." Head shaking and small exhaled breath. "And some of my ink is just because anyway."
"Not for a reason?"
"Doesn't always need to be a reason." Thinking. "But I'll walk you through it, tell you what I can. Okay?"
"Please."
So I tell her, naming each piece, explaining the why if there is one. Starting low and mentally working upwards.
The skull on my lower left leg with overly long and sharp teeth, left eye socket full of red: "It just seemed, I'm guessing, like a good piece to fill the space. Something scary and alternative."
"One you don't remember?"
"One of them." Nodding in the dark. Moving on.
A lighthouse on my upper left leg, black and bare skin bands of colour up its length, the building sitting on a small rocky island and scattered clouds drifting passed. The lighthouse beam is pointed at my crotch: "This was one of my first. Meant as a joke of sorts."
"Joke?"
"There's a. Semi, I think? Famous lighthouse in Plymouth the city. So...."
"Right?" Sounding unsure, which is fine.
The words 'Here Be Dragons' in gothic script across the left side of my crotch: "Didn't they used to write that on maps?"
"Maybe." Unsure. "They used to draw dragons or sea monsters on them anyway."
An open sharks mouth, the bones of one upper and lower jaw plus teeth, belly button in the centre: "Purely because I thought it'd look really fucking cool."
"Well." Tracing the outline, I shiver. "It does."
"Good."
A motorcycle racing across my lower back, on the left side. The silhouetted rider resembles a busty girl, long hair blowing backwards, lowered lance in her hand: "I." Pausing, shaking my head as I butt against the wall of lost knowledge. Frustration. "I think there's more of a reason. But all I remember is it's because of bikes."
The skeletal framework of deamon or dragon, pick one, wings across the shoulder blades, stretching left to right and in the middle a clock face. Roman numerals. The clock is almost at midnight: "It's the doomsday clock."
"Right?"
"No?" I wait. Tut. "I'll explain sometime. But Lili."
"The ex Lili."
"Who died." Leaning into Sonya's brief kiss on my cheek. "She had a similar piece on her chest. I got it to remember her."
"Sounds." Thoughtful, I see the ghost of Sonya's nod. "Nice."
Red and black flames, circling the right wrist, stretching back and almost reaching the elbow. The only piece that isn't on my left side: "Another case of it just looked like a really cool idea."
A mermaid, facing to the side, long flowing hair and busty, tail curling and long too. She's chained wrists in front, breasts, and the chains hang down the arm: "My." Smiling. "Bondage tattoo. I wanted something to show off what I'm into."
"Well it certainly does that." Quietly laughing.
The Egyptian 'Eye of Rah' symbol on the back of my left hand: "Is where the tour ends, and again I got it just because. I wanted something on my hand, and this fit the space, and I liked it."
"They're almost all black?"
"A little red aside." Nodding my agreement. "Not necessarily on purpose. I got a couple of black ones and then just decided to keep it as a theme. But colour can look really fucking amazing too."
"Think I'd want colour."
"Any thoughts what yet?"
"Maybe." Squeezing me, burrowing closer. "Think we could find a place to visit in Inverness?"
"Sure."
"Good." Climbing onto me, weight of her pressing down, feel of Sonya's breasts squashing. Attempting to squash mine except they can't quite. Her shadowed face looming over mine, smiling down.
Brushing hair off my face her other hand tracing up and down my side.
"I like you, Blue."
"You like tying me up."
"I'm serious." Kissing me. "Yes. I like tying you up. How could I not given how sexy you look even without any ropes. You're so damn pretty."
"You'll make me blush."
Squirming, all the attention.
"I'm too young." Tracing my lips with a finger, making me shiver. "I don't want to get into anything deep. With anyone. I don't want to be. Ha." Shaking her head. "Tied down."
"No danger of that." Stretching and flexing underneath her.
Sonya moans. Kissing me again hands finding my breasts.
"I just wanted you to know." Gently fondling, squeezing my chest. "How I feel. That if I were going to date. It'd be you I want."
"Well...." Her words, compliments and her touch are proving a highly arousing combination. I'm finding coherent thought difficult.
"Do you like me?"
"Red."
"Blue?" Stopping her attack on my F cups.
"I'm tied up."
"And you look really fuckable."
"Yes." Smiling, her compliment causing a rush of heat across my cheeks and neck. "Thanks. Point is. You've tied me up. Not for a shoot. But because you wanted too."
"I always-"
"-want to. Yes I got that." Lifting my head to kiss her lips. "Thing is. You tied me up. And I didn't protest."
"And the other night I slept cuffed naked and ballgagged on the floor. Because of a fantasy you had. And." Kissing her again. "I didn't protest then either. So. Yes. I like you too, and." Deep breath, shiver as I plunge. "It's very unlikely I'd protest. Ever. If you decide you feel the urge to bind me."
Silence.
Stretching.
But instead of words Sonya leans in, lips finding mine, hands once again exploring me: breasts and stroking my side. Her body moving atop mine, slow deliberate motions. Dry humping my helplessly trussed and immobile body.
"I." Whispered between kisses her lips brushing mine, words passing into my open mouth. "Locking you up on the floor was such a fucking trip."
"You." Feeling her words and attentions of my body lighting me up, my answering whispers brushing her lips in return. "I was so completely helpless."
"Yes."
"You left me there."
"You belonged there."
Heat, her words like heat passing across me. Burning but good. The truth and I embrace it. And moan. Pushing my chest at her.
"I belong locked up."
"Tied up." Moving faster. "By me. Fuck." Squeezing my breasts hard, forcing her lips to mine and sucking the air from my lungs. "I could imprison you every damn fucking night Blue."
"Who's stopping you Red."
No more words, Sonya's fingers find my pussy and slip easily inside. Her mouth finding my breasts, my nipples, licked and bitten and sucked whilst she humps and fingers me to a shuddering climax.
Inverness. Close to four hours on the road, longer for us because of stopping. To stretch, to admire the view once or twice.
We're in no rush.
No useless cardboard sign at this site, nothing to hang off the central rearview mirror my Hayabusa doesn't possess, but the rest is as before: Sonya checks us in whilst I wait outside, then sitting behind, slowly advancing down the narrow site roads her pointing the way.
Arriving at a tent looking- as expected -similar to the one we just left.
Climbing off the bike and.
"Hey. King."
Helmet off and Sonya doing the same, looking at me her posture frozen. Unsure. I turn around.
Five of them, four guys and a girl, all in leather jackets and shiny black trousers on her, jeans for them. Three of the men sport beards, and two of those that do are older, spreading out at the belly.
"Who's asking?" Pitching my voice as they'd done, a half shout. Challenge in my tones. Like they'd done.
In response one of the men turns, all five stopped now a comfortable. Safe. Five metres away. Turning to show us- me because Sonya doesn't count right now -the patch. 'Northern Wind' writ large and gothic across the top, occupying the same space as 'Three Kings' on mine. Below which a grinning grey bearded skull, fat cigar clamped between his teeth sprouting a miniature tornado off the tip.
"That real?" The same talker, one of the older guys, finger jabbed towards my jacket.
"As real as this." Hand out to pat the Hayabusa's matt black fairing. Sonya staying close, silent and unsure.
"That a ninety-nine?" The younger clean shaven guy. A pace closer to peer at the small jumber plate hanging off the rear. Proof. Looking.
"Modified." But I nod. Yes, and he whistles appreciation at a rare classic. "Bought it in pieces." A shrug, not my choice, I. Had. To buy alternative and not original parts, so why not tweak it. "So...."
"Damn." Running a hand across his shaven head. "I had a third generation, but tho-"
"Until the wife made you slow down."
One of the bearded men, Interrupting and then they're all laughing. Even the women. The wife? Who playfully pushes the joker before stepping close to kiss the generation three owners cheek.
I smile too, feeling the comradeship leaking out from the group.
"Well. King." Tones softened, the old man steps in and I mirror the move, meeting him in a clasp of hands. "You're a long way from home."
"True." Glancing back to smile at Sonya, who visibly calms.
Was she worried?
"We're all pitched up in F field." Waving behind him. "Come share our fire tonight, would be our honour to host you and...."
Glancing passed me.
"My girl." I nod, seeing Sonya- whom I've never called such, and nor has she -jump. "Thank you. Around seven?"
"Seven would do just fine." He nods, jerking a thumb back at the other older bearded man. "Should give Fred there enough time to burn the food."
Which earns him a flipped finger, and more friendly laughter, which I join in on this time.
And off they go.
"See." Letting out my own breath, trying on a -feels forced -smile. "Nothing to worry about."
"What was that?" Staring after them and shaking her head, eyes from the Northern Wind group to me and back. "Some Wild West High Noon bullshit or what?"
"Truthfully?" She nods, I shrug then laugh. "Not a fucking clue."
After all, what if I had been a fake King? What could, would they of done, really?
And my bondage obsessed mind far too readily supplying page upon page of answers, none of which happens in the real world.
Right?
We unpack, go for a short walk. To stretch and visit the nearest supermarket because it's impolite to turn up without a gift.
We bring several crates of booze.
"So." We've both showered and changed, washing the road off us. Jeans still, and boots plus jackets because evening's creeping in, the temperature inching down. I've put on a black 'Carnival of Chains' tee because why not, and Sonya looks positively irresistible in a plunging white vest top and push up bra.
"I'm," grinning at me as we walk from our tent to F Field, "your girl?"
"Easier then explaining." I grin back, wave an armful of alcohol, bottles clinking inside their cardboard prison, at her. "This is Sonya, she binds and gags me, then fucks and abandons me. And I'm okay with that."
"I do no...." Stopping at my raised eyebrow. "Oh." Giggling, because.
"Yes you do."
"Well." Nudging me, playful. "You like it though."
"True." Small blush, a mark of just how much I like it.
And we continue smiling like two people with a secret the rest of the walk.
There are- and I don't bother counting, yes please line up and stand still, ha -close to fourty bikers in F. At least. The vast majority are Northern Wind, but as we wander. Sonya staying close, and I can't decide whether she's being protective- a scattering of girls around all wearing quite tight clothing, showing it all off -or if she's a little scared slash intimated by it all?
Because bikers, like any large group thrown together with alcohol and like minded others. Well they're not quiet.
Northern Wind, but I see jackets declaring both 'Oak and Ash' and 'Oblivion Sisterhood.' The latter I only spot four times, and all on girls, which is nice.
We wander, talking and sharing stories. I don't get asked again after the validity of my own patch. I'm here now, I'm accepted. Welcomed as a Brother in arms.
The food, cooked on several barbecues that seem to be permanent fixtures in the field, is delicious. I stick with chicken, a filled mini baguette, whilst Sonya samples- read devours -a whole grease dripping cheeseburger and a hotdog. The sausage some kind of special, smelling so good like herbs and somehow cheese mixed up all inside the skin.
"I know who you are."
"That right?" Raised eyebrow, my low conspiratorial tone matching his. Fred, the old bearded Northern Wind man running one of the barbecues. I've stepped in to help, wanting to contribute and then staying as Sonya and me listen. Fred, an old railwayman, has about a hundred stories.
Impossible sounding things, more so given my only limited knowledge base.
But Sonya has wandered off, seeking the toilet block and no she doesn't need company, so I've stayed with Fred.
"Plymouth." Naming me, and I nod. "I've not said, but." Gesturing at, I assume my obvious F cups, easily pushing my jacket apart. But of course he means the 'Carnival' tee. "Wearing that, others might figure you out."
"S' okay." I smile, it really is. "I'm not known for hiding."
"Would it be rude of me to comment how much I enjoy your various content, Plymouth?"
"Not at all." Giving his cheek a quick kiss. "I appreciate the compliment. Fred, thank you."
Fred blushes, looking quite pleased.
"Does the lady?"
"Sonya."
"Sonya." Another gesture and I look, seeing her weaving back across the field, skirting various groups. She waves, I wave back. "Does she know?"
"She does."
"I see. Well...." A thoughtful nod. "That's good."
"Yes."
Because this is Sonya, she binds and gags me, then fucks and abandons me. And I'm okay with that.
We have a great time. And yes Sonya seems slightly off, subdued and staying closer to me then I'd of expected given her easy Domme derived confidence. But she smiles often, matches me drink for drink and holds up her end of any conversations begun around us.
Late, an unknown late because I don't care enough to check. I'm on holiday after all. But things wind down late, various small groups: couples, three young guys sharing a tent. Slowly they begin to peel off, heading for bed. Possibly sex first, but ultimately sleep.
Sonya and me do a final round, saying thanks. Hugging.
Me promising to keep in touch with an 'Oblivion Sisterhood' girl, emails swapped and I don't realise at the time- too drunk -I've given out the Jester's Revenge one, that I've typed hers wrong and will delete it two days later. Frowning, not understanding what it is.
Oops.
Together, leaning in close my hand reaching around to cup her breast, up inside her jacket and Sonya leaning her head on my shoulder. Together we stumble back towards our tent.
Too mellow for a serious stab at either ropes or a fuck. And that's okay.
She doesn't have much choice: planning this road trip and wanting it to be part fun sightseeing part working, but she didn't want to book just me or just her in for shoots. What would be the point when we're spending the time together?
So, either we shoot for Jester's Revenge like with Hayley. Or we hire ourselves to another site, which runs a high chance of Sonya needing to be bound, because most sites don't need a Domme, they just need models to bind and gag.
Although Mark's shoot is somewhat bridging the divide, which I'm sure will help her nerves.
"Ladies." Opening the door to his flat, a trendy penthouse no less. Sonya told me Mark- having asked, checking him out is he safe, legitimate and so forth -is, like Hayley quite well off. But Mark works for his.
Something to do with computers? Bug fixing freelance work? Possibly banking, I forget and really it doesn't matter. If Sonya has marked- ha -Mark safe that's good enough for me.
"Got your bike squared away okay, Plymouth?"
"Thanks." Nodding. Bay fourty-one of the underground car park and as promised the large yet sleek looking Japanese weapon occupying the space, huge rear wing and some very interesting black dragon inspired vinyl design swooping down both sides, atop the pale blue bodywork. The car had been reversed all the way back, leaving ample room to lock my Hayabusa- itself Japanese, the pair actually looking like they belong together -to the thick post making up one corner of the bay.
"And Flame. Hi." Hugging Sonya next as she steps across the threshold behind me, all of us smiling greetings. "I'm glad you reached out."
"I'm glad we could work something out." Nodding at me. "I'm showing Plymouth around Scotland, so it's nice to pick up some work as we travel."
"Definitely." Leading us both through, away from the entrance hallway into the flat proper.
Of an age with me, travelling through his twenties and someplace around middle distance. Mark is, average looking but in a nice way. Clearly he works out, being somewhat trim but there's no muscle definition, and yet no excess fat beyond a very small humped belly.
Only itself visible when he takes his tee off later.
Clean shaven with messy blonde hair spiked up all over the place, wearing baggy dark red drawstring joggers and a black 'Weyland Yutani' tee.
"Place is a three bed but it's only me." Talking over his shoulder, a shrug. "I bought it for the location, the height and."
Pointing out the panoramic lounge windows, taking up two sides of the room, the penthouse located on the buildings corner. Beyond the glass, sliding doors currently cracked and letting in a small refreshing gust. Beyond the lounge is a long wide balcony, amazing views beyond.
"Wow."
"Thanks." Genuine, not a snob pushing his wealth at us. Look at all my expensive things that you can't have. Just, proud. And why not.
"I've got a guest room made up, and the third bedroom I use for shoots. Unless." Stopping at the. Bedroom? Door, turning to face us, a smiled shrug.
"Unless I want to bind the model in my lounge."
"Or on your balcony." Teasing, and Sonya grins. Mark smiling too, nodding.
"Not got total privacy. But." Arms spread wide. Why not.
The third bedroom actually turns out to be the biggest, extra space for shoots and the ensuite doubling as changing room. Thoughtful, and I guess with the whole flat his alone Mark doesn't feel the need to claim the largest room as his den.
We change, a simple procedure for this shoot: I strip naked, and Sonya removes her tee and jeans, her jacket and boots, leaving her in a black- requested by Mark -push up bra and matching thong.
"Ready?" Knocking at the closed bedroom door, respect shown and anther tick added beside his name. "Ladies?"
"Yes?" Looking to Sonya, who nods.
"We're sort of naked." Both of us giggling. "But ready, Mark."
"Naked is it." Opening the door too fast and near bouncing in, joking. "Why didn't you say?"
Sonya and me giggle again, I shake my chest at Mark, who grins, faking a lunge when he's clearly too far away.
Keeping the atmosphere playful, which helps given he's a stranger.
A stranger about to fuck me.
"Forgot these, ladies." Brandishing two contracts in his non grabbing for my F cups hand. "Sorry."
"All good." Taking both, handing one to Sonya. "Got a pen?"
"Sure." Patting his joggers pocket, coming up with a blue and a black biro, the black quite chewed. "Here."
Waiting as we scribble, adding his signature, the date afterwards. Stepping out to stow them safely whilst I fold mine and Sonya's up, stepping into the ensuite and placing both in my jackets inside pocket.
As usual we'll be paid later.
"All good?"
"All good."
"Great." Flame had answered, with me nodding. Mark nods back, flicking switches and activating his equipment.
Shooting.
As Mark films, two static cameras plus a third handheld, he's a constant presence here at the beginning, until he needs to physically step in. Hovering and weaving between and around us both, appearing to know which angles are best.
I follow Flame, in through the bedroom door. No collar, no leash, but I follow. Closing it behind me and together we approach the bed.
A double, nothing fancy a simple wooden frame and faded yellow sheet covered mattress. No pillows or duvet.
I climb up, Flame not helping or ordering instead as I get into position she's fetching rope and a gag from the counter top.
Binding me. Not hurried but not drawn out, people will want to see, will enjoy watching each of my limbs in turn being wrapped and sealed in a loop of smooth white rope.
Marks choice differing from my coarse brown lengths, the difference weird against my skin. Wrong somehow despite the end result setting off that same pleasing tingle. Stepping my heart up faster and shallowing out my breath.
Flame binds me into a spread eagle whilst I lay still. Submitting, not fighting being a good girl. Slave or submissive. Letting her. Each of my limbs, wrists first then ankles, is pulled taut, stretching me out flat, each of my muscles in turn feeling a slight burn as the tie flexes it awake.
Lastly I'm gagged, leaning over me, close and only I can see her smile. Ball gag strapped on, buckled tightly a brief Involuntary flinch from me as the leather straps dig in.
Flame, licking slowly across the rubber ball, her tongue catching my lips and I moan. Whimper like eyes closing.
She fetches the vibrator. A white wand, mounted on a sort of posable tripod: three legs and a central pole raised about a metre although it could go higher, longer. At the top a second pole at right angles, movable and tiltable, and at the end of this the wand sits.
Flame arranges such at the side of the bed, away from the camera, wand pressing into my pussy and I moan again, wriggle. Feel the inert bud pressing into me.
Anticipation.
And then as Flame steps back. Grinning for the camera in comes Mark, stripped of his tee but still in those baggy joggers, stepping up behind to take a firm hold of her. Silent, no words spoken.
And for the smallest instant, there then gone I see her eyes flare, see the moment she's readying to turn and deck Mark. Punch or just push him for interfering. Because I'm hers, not his, and Flame's- Sonya's, both of them -blood is up. And she doesn't want to share and fuck the script.
Only an instant though.
Her body locking and Mark likely doesn't even realise, because it passes like blinking and she goes soft. Pliant.
Allowing Mark to steer her away from the bed, from me. To the chair.
Just a simple wooden low backed thing, dark wood and a white cushion for sitting, no arms. Flame sits and Mark binds her in place: ropes at the ankles each one lifted and secured to the chair back, spreading her legs. Tiny thong on full show. Wrists bound behind, lashed to the chair back too and lastly chest ropes, a simple above and below tie, securing Flame to the chair.
He ballgags her, Flame wriggling within her ropes, clearly helpless. Moaning.
And smiling Mark moves the tripod, taking mere moments to transfer the wand from my pussy to Flame's, pressing it against her thong covered crotch.
Turning it on. Flame's body jolting at the sudden insistent buzzing.
Mark, stripping off his joggers and hipster style pants in one fluid move. Approaching me.
And there's a camera placed beside the bed, which will show all of me, tightly bound and gagged. Naked. It will show Mark. And on the far side of the bed it will show Flame, bound and gagged too. Helpless to avoid the vibrator as it forces her towards a climax. As she's forced to watch Mark fuck me.
All in the script.
Rubbing his cock, which isn't thick but is long, across my gagged lips. Slapping the rubber ball with it. I moan, Flame, struggling, fighting as though she could somehow deny the inevitable rush of pleasure. She moans too.
Tracing the perimeter of my closest nipple with the tip of his shaft, several slow circuits before Mark climbs up, kneeling between my spread legs.
Slowly pumping his cock with one hand whilst his other slips inside me, and I'm already wet.
How could I not be? Yes, being fucked by a guy is rare, though it has happened. I'm wet because of the ropes, the gag. Wet because of the teasing.
Wet because of Flame, her eyes on me and I can see the lust and want for me in them. Bound and helpless, and I can see the frustration. She. Wants. Me.
Wishes it weren't a shoot, that there'd been no Mark to pull her off.
And, unprepared my eyes on Flame, thoughts on her. Mark rams his cock all the way inside me and I gasp. Biting down on the gag and almost climaxing right there. The ownership angle of his taking bound and helpless me. Fucking me. The alien- and I'll always prefer, want girls but there's no denying a cock feels really fucking good -feel of his shaft, filling me up and stretching my pussy.
He fucks me hard, and fast. Knowing, hearing Flame her gasps and moans getting louder. Her struggles becoming more urgent.
And I know she isn't a massive fan of being bound, much less of being forced to climax whilst helpless, so it helps that she's supposed to be fighting and struggling.
Doomed to lose.
Pounding me, my F cups bouncing and Marks hands find them, gripping and squeezing his lips locking onto a nipple and sucking. Not slowing his tempo and I'm breathing like an out of control train, thundering and gasping. Panting and moaning and my body bucking beneath him feeling the rush coming.
Flame beating me to it. I hear her beginning to scream out her climax.
Which pushes me over the edge.
And my screams, the flexing of my pussy. Throbbing and pulsing as my orgasm washes through me.
Mark suddenly pulling out, and seconds later there's heat splattering across my belly and breasts. Mark pumping his own orgasm all over me.
Riding the lift together, Mark left behind and I can still see it.
Sonya's eyes, flaring. Not mad, just really, really.
Fucking horny.
For me.
She's fidgeting, body pumped full of- wasted, because she'd been bound -adrenaline. In her mind she'd had me, all the foreplay- the ropes, binding and gagging -with none of the payoff.
Payoff being whatever she'd wanted, because I'm not fussy, nor known for offering an opinion on what gets done to me.
Unable to stand still, to calm or climb back down.
Jamming her helmet on back at the bike, we're off to Loch Ness now, a trip highlight.
Except.
"Hi." Seeing her jerk, head around to face me as I talk into my phone.
"We've got a fourteen hundred booking, for two." I pause, offer up the reference number a simple six digit letter and number mix.
"Yes. That's us. The thing is." Looking as she slips off her helmet, eyes wide. Staring. Licking my lips. "Somethings come up. Something." Feeling Sonya's hand slip into my free one, I give hers a squeeze. "Urgent. Is there any chance of a reschedule for tomorrow?"
"Blue?"
"I see you." Talking to Sonya, on hold and waiting whilst the company checks. "And you need this, or." Bringing her hand up to kiss it. "Tell me I'm wrong?"
No verbal response, just a shiver chasing across her, that adrenaline seeking a way out. Small shake of her head.
I'm not wrong.
"Tomorrow at nine?" Looking at Sonya, who nods. Chest rising and falling, fast, the gravity of what I'm giving her- me, on a plate to do with as she desires -sinking in. "Yes. We'll be there, and thank you for helping at such short notice."
I hang up, stuff the phone back into my jeans and turn to face Sonya.
"Blue." Another chasing shiver as she takes my other hand. "You...." Trying to contain a smile that won't stop growing. "For me."
"For you." For me too, because I can't ever get enough of being someone's plaything. But. "Yes. Because we aren't dating, but that doesn't mean I can't take care of you."
"I...." Love you? Possibly, are those the words that become caught in Sonya's throat as she pulls me into a cuddle, kissing me on the lips. Showing me how much my understanding means.
"Let's go, then." Feeling the shakes start within me now. My own adrenaline rising as what I've done begins to sink in. "Just." Looking into her eyes. I take a deep breath which comes back out broken. "Let's have a dinner out later, go see a movie?"
"Yes."
And that wasn't me subtly asking, telling her to free me by dinner time. It was me having a thought, a wish, and sharing it. Had Sonya said no?
I guess I'd be staying bound.
Helmets on, climbing aboard the Hayabusa and away we go.
Our posh tent, much like the last and the next it has a small separate alcove with a toilet. It has a large locked chest for securely stowing our clothes and valuables.
Because you can't lock a tent.
It, the tent has working lights, a plug socket.
And a double bed.
I'm in the centre of this bed, in the middle facing the door, headboard behind me. Ankles bound separately, legs spread wide as I'd knelt and each ankle rope running back up the bed, reeled in and tied off to a headboard corner post.
Wrists bound behind me, side by side. Pinned, tight. Laying down and the rope running down the bed, reeled in and tied off underneath, in the centre at the beds foot end.
But.
But. I could be laying flat and still be immobile, the combination of ankle ropes running up and wrist rope running down, all three devoid of slack. These prevent me from moving, pinning me in place because to struggle either up or down the bed I'd immediately encounter one of those ropes, stopping me dead.
Only Sonya, horny. Wanting more, has done more.
My wrist rope has been pulled. Reeled in further then simply taking away the slack. She continued pulling, forcing my wrists, my arms further down the bed. Lifting my body up off the mattress so instead of laying flat I'm now an arch. Lower legs flat, still, and my arms are pressed down in contact with the bed, but from knees to shoulders my body curves, up and around and down.
Crotch thrust at, pointed towards the ceiling, breasts on the downward slope, thrusting too.
My head, ballgag muting my whimpers and moans, is half resting on the mattress, sort of upside down.
It's a very. Very, extreme tie. Sonya not asking first, and me not stopping her.
Extreme. Tight. And yes I fucking love this but that doesn't stop the pain and discomfort, doesn't stop me panting, whimpering and softly almost constantly moaning by way of coping with such.
I'm just not moaning in a 'please no more make it stop' way. Or at least I don't want it to stop.
Limited packing space, so I know whatever else Sonya bought there's no crop, a favourite tool of hers.
However.
Sudden harsh stinging sensation exploding across my nipple and I cry out, biting down on the large rubber ball.
Seeing her step into view, her leather belt rolled around one hand, buckle safely tucked away and about half the length hanging free.
Which flashes out, striking my other nipple with expert aim.
The ballgag muffling my scream.
But. Don't stop. Please. Because I'm, despite the pain, into this. I like the abuse, Sonya's torture of me becoming pleasure like, firing up my nipples and pussy, my centre, much the same way a good fucking will.
So, yes I screamed. Moaned, but far from shying away I lifted my breasts higher. Offering.
Spreading my legs wider, as much as I'm able anyway, when Sonya's stand in whip finds my pussy. As she stalks slow circuits of me, right side to left and back, alternating harsh stinging slaps with softer, almost playful contact to breasts or belly.
She doesn't talk, naked too her E cups bouncing with each step. Mesmerising. Not a word but she's smiling. Enjoying her abuse of willing me.
Trailing the belt down across my ballgagged lips, down my neck and across my burning- it feels like -breast and nipple. Down over my belly and slipping across my pussy.
Eyes closed, soft moan and fuck yes it feels amazing.
Eyes flying open as sudden pain blossoms across my nipple. A harsh slapping sting and I buck. Biting down to muffle the scream.
Blink at Sonya and meet her smile with a wiggle of my chest.
More.
Please.
And an unknown time later she drops, discards the belt. Approaching and mounting the bed, crawling on her knees towards me.
Bending over my crotch, tongue out which she runs all the way up my inner thigh, repeating it on the other side.
Tender kisses on my throbbing, on fire pussy. Sonya moving, taking her tongue all across and around my sweating rope locked body.
My nipples and breasts. My belly. My gag stretched lips.
She licks and plants soft kisses all over. Soothing calming.
Walking me into a state of relaxation.
Only to take hold of my nipples, each in turn. Clamping biting metal teeth around each.
Bringing back the fire, the nipple clamps relentless, constant. And that part of me already sore.
And Sonya.
Vanishes?
Leaving my sightline, stepping away and I can hear her breathing. Can sense and hear her in the tent. Somewhere.
But can't see her.
Semi abandonment. As far as she safely can. Leaving me alone to suffer. Harshly and inescapably tied, pinched nipples and the rest of me still a throbbing too hot mess.
And, so aroused. Riding the high, I've already climaxed twice just from being whipped. Sonya teasing and forcing it out of me. Knowing just when to thrust fingers inside my pussy, pushing me over the edge with the sudden attention to my clit even whilst she's thrashing my nipples.
Time passes. My body throbs and shudders. I pant and moan.
"Had enough," back, appearing beside me vibrating dildo in her hand, like a long fat silver bullet, "slut."
"Rrddddggghhh." Spreading my legs, pussy pushed forwards. Looking at her. "Gggghhhppppmmm."
"I should bind this in your fucking hole." Her blood clearly still up, Sonya's chest rising falling. Her voice hard. "Crank it up and go take a shower."
"Mmmdddrrrssssfff." Moaning. Slowly blinking.
Sonya's lips quirk. Climbing up onto the bed and reaching out. Fumbling, jerking my head around and eventually the ballgag comes off. Dropped.
"Well?" Feel of cold smooth metal against my pussy. Sudden low buzz as she turns it on. "Bitch."
"Please." Panting the word out, hard to breathe and thoughts all muddled. Sentences impossible.
"What?"
"Anything." Arching my back and thrusting. Sighing as I feel the dildo slipping inside, the buzzing intensifying.
"I'll do it." Warning, lips curving into a smile. Something almost cruel yet beautiful. To someone who craves ownership.
"I." Legs briefly spasming. "Can't stop you."
"Would you though?" Musing.
"No." Like falling, and her gin widens.
Ballgag jammed back in place.
Dildo slipped all the way inside my pussy, yanking and wrapping a crotch rope onto me. Digging in at the waist and up inside my butt crack. Feeling the bullet forced all the way inside, filling me up.
Buzzing low but insistent.
"When I return." Tugging at a nipple clamp, small jerks and each time I squirm. Moan. "I'll turn your little friend up and spank you till you scream."
"Fffgggdddmmmnnnn." I nod.
"Until then." Tiny spandex shorts and a tee slipped on, towel over one shoulder and wash bag in hand.
She's actually going.
I'm being- chest beginning to thud, because I really am very helpless, very exposed, in a tent which doesn't lock -abandoned.
"Try not to scream." Kissing my cheek. "Slut."
Walking away, sound of the tent zipping closed.
Followed by nothing except the noise outside. Camp, general daytime activity whilst on the other side of thin canvas I lay, trussed and gagged and naked.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
And here I come, logging in to dump/post a couple of new chapters and expecting to do so right below my last effort.
And yet here you are dropping a comment and spoiling- but not really obviously because a comment is ALWAYS welcome -my plan.
Happy to disappoint
Though it seems I missed the next set. You are really on a roll the last few days. More to read I suppose
RopeBunny wrote:The story works better if Brooke is a free agent, because there are others out there I want her to interact with and she can't if she's committed to Sonya.
Suspected as much. The vagaries of spinning a tale without a specific plan.
-
Liked the breakdown of the tattoos. Both a bit of a trip down memory lane, along with being a nice moment for the two of them to share. The 'party' was also a nice change of pace - yet another one of the vignettes that you do so well.
RopeBunny wrote:Because this is Sonya, she binds and gags me, then fucks and abandons me. And I'm okay with that.
Indeed
RopeBunny wrote:And for the smallest instant, there then gone I see her eyes flare, see the moment she's readying to turn and deck Mark. Punch or just push him for interfering. Because I'm hers, not his, and Flame's- Sonya's, both of them -blood is up. And she doesn't want to share and fuck the script.
You do a good job of keeping their relationship feeling 'energetic' (not the right term, but I cannot think of a better one right now) but I think you understand what I mean). Avoiding settling into a routine, and I think bits like this are part of why.
And quite the chapter to wrap up the last set, with Sonya having her fun (I would say at Brooke's expense, but that would be a lie).
RopeBunny wrote:"When I return." Tugging at a nipple clamp, small jerks and each time I squirm. Moan. "I'll turn your little friend up and spank you till you scream."
I think the saying 'don't threaten me with a good time' seems appropriate for the situation
I go away for a few days and all hell breaks loose!!
Really enjoyed these last chapters - can feel the heat between Red and Blue coming off the screen - a slight disappointment that they’re not going to end up together (yet?) but the knowledge that more adventures for Brooke is on the horizon makes up for it!!
Caesar73 wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
Quite the hot ride for Plymouth and she enjoys every second.
Indeed that final chapter especially I did let the imagination flow into overdrive.
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
Though it seems I missed the next set. You are really on a roll the last few days. More to read I suppose
It won't last. Not forever anyway but, whilst it doss I guess you all get to enjoy fairly regular/constant updates
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
Liked the breakdown of the tattoos. Both a bit of a trip down memory lane, along with being a nice moment for the two of them to share. The 'party' was also a nice change of pace - yet another one of the vignettes that you do so well.
On the verge of getting another I wanted to break down exactly what Brooke has. I mention her ink often, making note of how it's almost entirely on her left side but don't really go to individual pieces.
As for the 'party' yes I liked the idea too. Could've made more of it but felt it was a good aside to drop in.
Switchgirl wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
I go away for a few days and all hell breaks loose!!
Sorry. But not obviously. It's good to find a comment from you though, to see you're still following and enjoying. Thank you.
Switchgirl wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
a slight disappointment that they’re not going to end up together (yet?) but the knowledge that more adventures for Brooke is on the horizon makes up for it!!
Yes. As I've said.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
A lot of this is simply that it still suits me to have them be casual. Fuck buddies and not an actual couple.
The story works better if Brooke is a free agent, because there are others out there I want her to interact with and she can't if she's committed to Sonya.
So Sonya being eighteen, unwilling to be tied- ha -down, is working for me.
I like Sonya, Red. Like her enough she could. Could. Be the right fit. However there are other girls in the story, and I want to keep things fluid.
More girls equals more options for fun, and play. More chances for Brooke to explore that bondage life
On which note.
What follows below....
I actually wrote the first part (the Brooke/Sonya exchange) with the intention of it being a genuine interlude, a break before Sonya plays some more.
However.
A short while ago I gave myself a future opening to finish (temporarily or otherwise, I honestly don't know) the Brooke/Sonya arc, and looking at things I realised I could fire that gun now.
In a fun way.
So I did. (See below of course )
What I'll say, at the start of the following two chapters is: if things don't quite make sense, if you think you know more then Brooke. Be patient, answers and so on will occur. Sonya will reappear.
"You weren't supposed to let me."
"Well." Shrugging, popping another hot wing into my mouth.We're sharing a plate.
Tastless. Bizarrely?
"How, given my predicament was I supposed to stop you?"
"You...." Stopping like running out of steam. Frowning.
And across the space behind her a flash of blonde hair. Perfect, you could almost say.
"You could've told me not to?"
"And you'd of listened?" I laugh, the sheer absurdity of Sonya's thinking.
"I saw you." Jabbing a wing towards her and Sonya smiles, prehaps knowing. "You wanted to abandon me, regardless."
"Well...."
"Fucking liar." I laugh again, Sonya joining in this time, spreading her arms wide.
"I didn't even say anything."
"You don't have to." Shaking my head. "I. Saw. Your blood was up." Half smiling, dropping the wing in my hand and reaching for another, which I stare at. Frown. Discard too.
What's the point if I can't taste them?
"I was fucked as soon as you tied and gagged me."
"But."
"But?" Looking up and Sonya's.
Gone? Her and the table, the restaurant blurring. Fading.
"Like this, wasn't it?"
The Japanese accent, followed by a small laugh and I know that voice? Head jerking round, body unable to do likewise.
Young and slim, Asian colouring, such a beautiful rich thing and black hair curling at the tips, both matching the voice. B cups beneath a tight tee and some kind of Mario Kart track outline inked on her left side. Something from an old game.
The Ghost House?
Rainbow Road?
She's laid beside hogtied me, ropes pinching and forcing my body to assume the familiar arched position, breasts squeezed and presented forwards, one of her hands teasingly close but not touching.
Not yet.
"I." Squirming, which raises a smile as we lay facing each other, her hand twitching. Thinking of touching me? "Who are you?"
"I'm in one of the holes, Brooke." Tapping her head. "Nothing but shards of half remembered history now. Nothing but...."
Looking at me expectantly.
And eventually I nod.
"I'm dreaming."
"Yes."
"But you're." Licking my lips. "We played. For real?"
"Yes." Smiling, sadness at the edges.
"I wish I could remember."
"Don't worry." Leaning in, soft lips as she kisses me.
"Time to move on."
Body suddenly flopping free of ropes that no longer exist. I blink.
See steel bars all around.
A cage.
Small, on the same scale as what most medium size dogs get: a metre by a metre and a half floor, about a metre tall. Only the bars are thicker, the gaps between enough for a hand. Barely.
I don't even bother trying the door. I'm still naked, and across from the cage, relaxing cross legged on a large striped bean bag, picking the occasional Wotsit out of a bowl. Crunching loudly.
"I might've known," shaking my head, tutting, "you'd show up."
Deborah. White shirt beneath a black underbust corset, sleeves rolled up and the collar open. Impossibly pert D cups almost spilling out. Black pleated skirt, which because of the way she's sat means I can clearly see her purple thong.
We have a. Very, chequered history.
"Because you secretly. Still." Grinning at me around the crisp poking fag like from her mouth. "Want me."
"No."
"Admit it. B." Tapping her head. "I'm in here. You made me." Glancing down at herself, outfit chosen- by me -to show off breasts and pussy. "You put yourself in my cage and not Sally's."
"Sonya."
"Whatever." Waved dismissal.
"You want to leave?" Half amused, half something like a challenge. Deborah shrugs. "Leave. It's your dream."
I sit up, shuffle to the cage front, close and Deborah puts down her bowl. Interested. Watching me back.
Staring. Willing it almost whispering the words.
I don't want to be here.
There's no place- fighting not to smile -like home.
Why don't we swap, see how she likes it in he-
Pinched bite suddenly at wrists and ankles, I look down, wriggle my limbs. Discover I'm now locked into two pairs of ridged steel cuffs.
Deborah laughs, no malice. A happy amused sound.
"Oh for." Fucks sake, is this what I want?
"See." Deborah, waved gesture at my now locked and locked again- cage and cuffs -body. "You should message me back. B. We belong together."
"It never works." Shaking my head. "We tried, remember?"
"Well...."
Thoughtful, followed by a shrug.
"Maybe you need to bind me sometimes." Actually grinning. My old Domme, ruler of planet me. And my heart flutters at the revelation like thought.
Maybe?
"Keep it playful not real." Deborah continues, grinning at me. Pulling the right side of her shirt and out comes a breast. Looking at me looking back, feeling a build up of heat as she rolls the nipple between thumb and finger.
"Like you and Sandra were doing."
"Sonya."
"Her." Nodding. "Message me. B. I miss you."
"I...."
Sonya (doesn't) Plays.
Part (not) the second.
Evening. (morning)
Awake?
Blinking, searching both within and without for signs of reality.
Fading headache, all the other sensations clamouring to be noticed.
I'm awake.
And.
"Ffffhhhgggggsssss." Gag muffled choice curse, because there are even more holes then usual in my head.
I take stock, uniquely- because I'm an eager little rope slut with a deathwish -not the least phased or scared by what I discover. Taking my time, cataloging everything.
Tallying it against the shredded remains of recent memory.
I'm in a tent, which feels right. I've got nothing, less then fragments from before a moment ago. Waking up. Backtracking, tracing a path through the hours and weeks, from present to past, and everything feels more solid. More, real the further back I go.
So. My dream. Sonya and teasing, at first that had felt real because.
I was with Sonya.
Who. Left me here?
Which, truthfully- deathwish -I can completely see myself agreeing to.
Here is a tent. Somewhere? I'm not even sure who visited who and right now I'm too fogged, I remember both though not the order.
A small tent, the kind that pops out of a sealed circular bag. Large enough for two to lay down, not tall enough to stand. Green canvas above my head, filtered sunlight warming my bare skin.
Because I'm naked, and bound.
Some kind of camp bed, metal frame and stretched canvas feeling rough and scratchy beneath, against my skin. There's a ballgag strapped tightly in my mouth, and each limb is angled and locked off at a separate corner leg. Not the most extreme tie.
Until you recall I'm naked, and, I think.
Alone?
There's definitely- looking around -nobody else in the tent, and gut instinct is proclaiming loudly that the theme is repeated outside.
'Look what you've gone and done now.'
'Yes. I know.'
'Wait. Why are you smiling?'
Goes the internal conversation.
And, no. I'm not crazy. Just lacking any kind of safety filter where ropes are concerned.
And I suppose you're- spoilsport -going to tell me that's a bad thing?
Flopping back down, no longer straining at the cuffs either to look around or to test my helplessness.
I am.
Helpless that is. Locked up and alone. So, how am I getting out?
Laying down, I relax. An act which would baffle any sane person. How can you relax in such a state? Why so calm when you've just discovered, admitted there's no clear hope or chance of freedom?
The truth is I'm not relaxed, but I'm not scared either. What I am is becoming aroused, thoughts and scenarios dancing through my head. Possible outcomes, depending on the why and the who might find me.
But.
Stop it, Brooke. Focus. Think.
What happened?
Sonya is known for abandoning me, I remember the shoot: hogtied- wasn't it -on the bed and she'd sauntered off to shower. In the hotel?
She'd come almost straight back, but. Odds are she could, would. Will? Do it again.
Just has, done it again?
Stretching and the cuffs clank softly, metal against metal, pausing in my internal wanderings at the sound of people passing by. I wait, breath held and a tingle of anticipation quickly forming deep in my belly. Are they slowing down? Stopping?
Coming in?
No.
There are, resuming, staring at the muted outline of the low morning sun through the canvas. There are two ways this could of happened.
Either Sonya did this on her own initiative, somehow tricking me.
Or I agreed.
Thinking. Relaxing, the sun warming me and I could easily forget the danger, the huge unknown hanging over me.
All those questions.
And suddenly five clicks, slightly out of synch and with each one of the locks pops.
Freeing me of cuffs and gag.
Oh?
Sitting up, rubbing my wrists and a little- stupid girl -disappointed to be free. Looking around, a shrug and I climb off the bed.
Underneath which I discover.
"Um?" A pair of baggy grey drawstring Adidas joggers but no pants, a mens size XL- way too large for my slender six frame -pullover red hoodie. 'Oxford' on the front in black. No bra, and some quite old but still wearable black Adidas but no socks.
And atop this small pile: two small bottles of water, a banana and an apple. Plus my front door key.
"So I helped?" Confused, staring at the various items. I must've helped, surely? To come- somewhere -here, to meet and allow Sonya to bind and gag me naked. To not bring my phone or bank card.
"This. Is" Shaking my head, pulling on the clothes, lacing the joggers which feel slightly loose and I don't want the embarrassment of them falling down whilst I'm walking.
Something tells me I've got a lot of walking to do.
"Weird." Nodding, small laugh escaping and I'm not mad. Not angry. It's like a game and Sonya might even be outside. Grinning.
No.
I down one of the waters, eat the banana which looks on the verge of turning. Standing outside looking around. There's a scattering of tents in the field though none are close. Couple of twenty something lads are about the only people I can see, sitting outside a tent similar to mine, hulking four wheel drive parked beside it. Posh looking.
One of them is openly staring. At me. So I grin, wave.
Laugh as he spits out a mouthful of coffee.
With no sign of Sonya, and no clear answers, I set off walking. Not stopping at the site entrance, not for a map nor to explain myself. To ask after outstanding payment.
Not my problem.
Nor do I step inside to ask after a phone, because- curse of technology -I don't remember anyone's phone number. Not even mum or Roman, sort of and basically. I guess, my step dad?
Weird.
Looking up at the sun, the road branching left and right, the great unknown stretching and winding away. But which way? No signposts and I still don't want to ask anybody.
An adventure, it's all about the journey and I feel in a strange, funny and slightly off centre mood. The dream still sloshing. That lost Asian. Deborah. I'm happy, but sad too. Out of sorts and I need, want, time.
So no phones, no asking or seeking help. Yet.
I choose right. Keeping the sun behind me, walking roughly West.
Sipping the second water as I go, setting a steady pace glad of all those 10K's and the years of forestry work.
And after two hours. I think. So long? But one continuous sweeping curving road doesn't need to tell travellers where they're going.
They should know.
In the distance a sign. Two.
"What?" Confused, still not angry, actually almost laughing at the sheer why of it. Eating the apple and staring.
'Penzance 5 miles' if I continue straight at the junction.
The tip of Cornwall, and why would we. Sonya especially but either of us. Why travel so far from Scotland just to lock up and abandon me?
What kind of messed up game did we plan?
Onwards though, what choice? Walking, checking in my pockets.
Which one has the key?
And I feel, pull out and discover a train ticket, the open kind. Valid for about a month. Dated and therefore bought yesterday.
Not a clue?
The ticket, lucky or planning by- someone -Sonya is from Penzance to here.
My house in the woods.
Walking inside as the sun finally sinks, closing in on the horizon and.
"Fuuuuuuuccccckkk." Stretching, tip toes and spread arms. "What a day."
Grabbing the barn key, noting both phone and bank card, everything in the little wooden bowl as normal. Needing to scratch an itch though. To check.
Finding the Hayabusa, sleeping. Waiting. Safe.
Back indoors. Food. And a bath.
Except.
Stopping as I cross from entrance hall to lounge. Blood turning cold and an icy chill rushing up then down my spine.
My awards statues, placed on the shelf where I can see them, where anyone. Any visitor can see them and why not.
I'm proud.
Leaning against them is a handwritten note.
'Email me regarding a meeting upon your return. Stan.'
"Fuck." Feeling the bottom fall out of my world, all my good humour at the crazy fun day, the various trails. Feeling the smile vanish.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
It's all about the journey, to quote the lady x
Indeed!
-
Amusing how dream-Deborah tries to assert her superiority over Sonya by mistaking her name (or I suppose Brooke's subconscious is fighting it out about who she wants in charge of her )
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
"Fuuuuuuuccccckkk." Stretching, tip toes and spread arms. "What a day."
Clearly she spoke too soon
Curious to see where all this goes in the end. Quite a sharp transition.
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
Amusing how dream-Deborah tries to assert her superiority over Sonya by mistaking her name (or I suppose Brooke's subconscious is fighting it out about who she wants in charge of her )
Something to slip in, a funny aside. But yes, easily could be a way to assert yourself or signs of Brookes internal struggles.
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
Curious to see where all this goes in the end. Quite a sharp transition.
Can't be helped, the suddenness. Or rather it could but then I'd still be seeking a way to bring Sonya/Brooke to a conclusion, therefore giving me to ability to move on to other girls.
And this is a form of conclusion, just one that won't be explained or properly wrapped up for awhile.
I didn't want, I'd decided, to simply end Scotland and then have them drift apart. Far better to make something interesting happen.
Sheer bone deep tiredness- walking hours and miles on end -overcomes the building worry, and I sleep.
Rattling a short, full of all the things I dare not say, email off to Stan first thing. Receiving an equally short reply soon after.
I've got four days, and on the fifth: death by firing squad.
Nothing from Sonya, the absent other half of my abandoned puzzle. No missed calls or WhatsApps to either discover upon my return or as the days roll by.
She's eighteen, and has repeatedly stated a desire to remain free. Not chained- ha -or tied- ha -down. And this is the reasoning, decided upon and stuck to no matter the doubting and the wanting. Lusting after her easy manner and sexy curves. Her rope skills. I miss her, but decide to wait on her.
If- not when and that small detail, admitting such to myself proves hard, like a lump -she returns. Reaches out, then I'm right here and we'll see. But.
If not, I wish her well.
I will not. Not. Be the girl who chases and obsesses. The stalker.
Although, if she's up in Scotland thinking the same thoughts. 'I'll wait for Brooke.' Then I just don't know.
I keep busy. They haven't taken Owl Wood off me yet, so I work. Like a woman possessed I throw myself into sawing and stacking, clearing and cutting. Driving the tracks and walking the pathways, checking. Trying not to think of it as saying goodbye.
And in the evenings I dig out my contract, making and tossing copious notes. Building and discarding arguments, determined to fight only to collapse into a heap. Slumped at the table.
"What's the fucking use." I exclaim to the Hayabusa, which listens silently like a good beast. Washing it, the task helping. Soothing.
"I'm doomed." Sudden flaring anger and I toss the sponge, kick the water filled bucket.
Howl my caged frustration out at the world. Why can't I have both? Why can't I be a friend to trees and a bondage porn star?
"Why." Staring at the phone, now replaced in it's small locked box, keys to the gate in hand. Permission given to cross the tracks and I'd almost. Nearly asked the signaller.
"Why can't I be both?"
Keeping busy.
Getting new ink, my first in ages having been content with what I had. On my left breast a black circle, the hollow centre of which my nipple. Surrounded. Out of this eight spear tip shaped points sprout, reaching arrow straight the whole design a fair size, not dwarfed by but nor does it completely swamp my F cup. Not a compass, a Chaos star: infinite possibilities.
I consider reaching out. To Fayth, to Daniel. I imagine- smiling, fuck yes -marching into Stan's office, an army of porn stars at my back.
Fuck yes. But, no. These are my problems, and ultimately I pause, tunnelling into myself as opposed reaching out. Not wanting to share.
And the small handful of days begins to feel like double, triple the number. Enough to drown me.
"I...." Day three, out in the woods and I've discovered the remains of a party. Beer cans and various bottles. Crisp and other packets, all empty. Picking everything up, the debris spread wide I'm walking in circles, constantly spotting one, more, thing.
Feeling it all well up. Everything. And I really, really, could do with getting shitfaced.
Out of good ideas. Out of energy.
So I do something bad. Stupid. Instead.
"B?"
"Debs."
"Hey."
After which Deborah pauses, the silence stretching. There'd been surprise in her tone, my own response deadpan. Looking down at the four black rubbish bags, filled and tied off.
My wood. Please.
I come very close, opening my mouth even as her voice bubbles down the line- she spoke first, does that mean I won? I almost. Almost, tell her I'm calling because dream her told me to. Which thought brings a smile.
"How are you?"
"I've been better." Shrugging, taking that step off the pier. Plunging because I didn't call just to talk. "When are you free Debs?"
"Free...?"
"Yes."
"Well? Tomorrow, I'm...." I wait, listening to the tap of keys. Deborah and her computering. And I- flash of not unwelcome memory, from a hole suddenly found again -can see her. Working. Some unknown time ago, slight frown crossing her pretty face, attacking whatever problem she's been hired to fix. Whatever program she's contracted to create and birth. Her home office and there on the desk is me. Laid, on my side, hogtied in nothing but lace heavy yet very skimpy lingerie. Ballgagged.
A kept object, often treated as such, by her. Ignored, but.
The memory causes a tingle, a smile.
"Tomorrow."
"What?" Distracted, did she say more?
"I'm free." Is she smiling? I can hear it. "Tomorrow. B."
"Right." Wetting my lips, and earlier. Asking was just a warm up. Now I plunge. "Come over tomorrow."
"Come over?"
"For a shoot." Not giving a damn about potential consequences or endgames. Not feeling as fatalistic as I currently do. But there is a- sort of -plan.
Can't open my door to a shark without figuring out certain details first.
"I'm going to tie you up. And." Nodding. "And as payment, afterwards we can talk."
"A shoot?" Confused tone, and I can't blame her. Yes she messaged me first, but that was forever ago. Feels like.
"What?"
"Will you come?"
"To-"
"-I've moved." Does she know where I'm living now?
"Tomorrow." Asking, pushing. "Debs?"
"You want me to do a shoot?" Less confusion in her voice, sounding somewhat amused now instead. "With you?"
"Tomorrow. Yes."
"You want to tie me up."
"Not like I can trust you to tie me is it?"
She laughs. Genuine and carefree, surprised. Happy.
Like in the dream.
"Sure. Why not, B. Send me the where and I'll come by mid afternoon."
"Good."
Great.
I think? Hope?
"Just wear whatever you want to be tied up in."
"Right." Another laugh. "See you soon B."
"Soon, Debs."
Hanging up, infectious smile, the first since I found Stan's note leaking in at the corners.
Might be doomed for two reasons now, but at least I'm happy about one of them.
Honestly couldn't say if I'm more nervous of Stan and my impending sacking tomorrow, or of Deborah today.
Yes, she's coming here to be bound, for a shoot everything above board and we're all professionals here. But.
But.
Energy like bottled lighting, that's how it feels when we're caught in each others orbits and I know she feels it too.
Dangerous.
But I want this. I. Need. This, the distraction, the company.
The answers, we need to talk. The shoot is both a distraction- for me -and an excuse to bring her here.
And it has to, despite my wanting otherwise to be me binding her because on the phone I told it truthfully: I don't trust Deborah to bind me. And right now I've got enough going on without leaving that particular door invitingly wide open.
I spend the morning working, building up a sweat and failing to tamp down on the rising excitement.
Cold pork and lettuce sandwich with onions and a bag of Wotsits.
Don't judge me.
Shower and fresh clothes. Pacing. Waiting and checking my phone.
Has she been delayed?
Has she cancelled?
Sound of a car, something sporty dropping down through the gears. Pop of an exhaust. A double tap on the horn.
Deborah.
Feeling butterflies begin to spread their tiny wings in the pit of my belly, I step outside to meet her.
She's traded up, no more Cooper S instead there's a Lotus parked outside, engine a lumpy quiet yet noisy bubble at idle. Low slug and wide arched, white with tinted windows and matching black wheels, huge rear wing continuing the colour. The car screams speed the same way my Hayabusa does. Even standing still you'd swear it was moving.
A final rev and pop- showing off -and the silence floods back in. There's not much so quiet as woodland.
Deborah climbs out, and in a classic Mexican standoff we stare at each other across the small distance. Noting the changes.
Still a ten, and toned her frame lean, muscles defined. Barely any fat. I can't remember the last time I saw her in a dress: black and skintight, shiny spandex material hugging everything. Showing it off helped by a plunging neckline, hem barely covering the crotch. The dress highlighting her enhanced chest, E cups almost the same size as my canons.
Her skinny frame making the roundness, the sheer gravity defying pertness of them appear that much larger, as mine look on me.
Converse high tops on her feet.
Deborah's hair, cut in a choppy style all mixed black and purple. A messy riot.
The Kraken still climbs her left leg, large, limbs reaching and spreading across Deborah's body only now it has company: rising up between those stunning breasts, a black tree. The exposed roots of which are tangled in a tentacle or trailing halfway down her right inner thigh. The crown spreads to left and right shoulders, climbs and wraps her neck. Choking. Scattering of green and red and blue maple leaves across the branches, the positioning random.
Hints of the inked black swirl circling and spiralling out from around her right nipple.
And me. Blue hair still damp and tied loosely back. White 'Hayabusa' tee hugging my braless F cups and grey spandex shorts, tiny things hugging my crotch and not much else. I'm barefoot.
"You've changed." Running a hand across my upper chest, tracing the path of her tree.
"You like, though?"
"Does it matter?" I ask, to which Deborah only shrugs. Fidgeting slightly.
Kind of.
"Come inside." Stepping back to the door, holding it wide as she slips through, almost. Not quite but I feel the air move as she squeezes passed. Catching her scent and involuntarily breathing deeply.
Deborah pausing at the sound, not turning to look at me, just a pause and then she continues inside. Through to the kitchen.
Where I grab water from the fridge, and hand her the contract.
"Tied." She's reading out loud, leaning across from me on opposite sides of the kitchen. "However I want." Raised eyebrow, not looking up to see my half smile.
However I. Not her but I. Me, want.
"And then...." Lips moving but slipping to silence, small smile and looking up.
I wait. Will she- despite the smile -protest? Leave? You might ask me: is this a test?
Isn't everything?
"Ten minutes of filming. Struggling." Nodding, and back comes the smile. "Including blank orgasms."
"I'll add the number in later," shrugging and letting the smile leak through, "depending on how you do."
"Right." Amused too, it's blatantly clear I'm stepping beyond my remit as rigger and employer, but she doesn't seem to care. "Doesn't seem, given this." Tapping higher up the page. "That it'll be up to me though."
"No."
I remember she's switch, as am I. As are many of us. But how much so? Deborah's Domme streak is miles wide. Will she therefore fight to retain control, or surrender as I would?
"And for these efforts I'll be paid the princely sum of." Pausing, shaken head but smiling. "A free and frank exchange of views."
Laughing, leaning down to sign the contract, handing it to me.
"You know if they gave prizes for the worst contract, B, you'd win gold."
"Probably." Slightly surprised she signed without protest or some form of negotiation, I'd been deliberately one sided, favouring me at her expense.
After all this is just a shoot, and as the model Deborah should expect. Demand an actual fee.
"Shall we then?" Pointing towards the door, the stairs beyond. "I'm already set up in my room."
"Your actual bedroom huh?" Talking at me over her shoulder, leading the way. "Nothing dodgy at all about binding me on your bed right?"
"I couldn't possibly comment."
Turning to face me, grinning. Teasing and I grin back. See a quick shiver run across her.
"Sure you wouldn't rather be bound on my bed?"
"For a shoot?" Voice slightly wavering and Deborah grins.
"Well...." Seesawing hand.
"Not this time."
"No." A second shiver crossing her body. "Not this time."
And onwards.
King sized wooden bed and minimal furniture, wardrobe and bedside drawers. Old Japanese navel flag hanging off one wall. I've set up cameras facing the bed, ropes and assorted things piled ready.
Deborah strips off her thong, tossing it into the doorway.
"Were you filming the prep?"
"No." Approaching her with the ballgag, which I don't need to do first, if I'm not filming.
It's nice, as a model to talk to the rigger whilst they work. It's courtesy too, leave the jaw splitting gag until the end so the model spends as little time as possible in discomfort.
She opens wide, accepting the black ball and biting down, staying still whilst I buckle it up. Tight.
"Okay?"
"Rrrsssssggg." Nodding, rolling her eyes and for whatever reason playing along.
I get to work binding her.
Wrists crossed behind, after which I use the super long length of rope for a chest tie. Wrapping above then below, changing directions the rope always doubled up, and wrapping Deborah's E cups, pulling and knotting behind her which pulls her wrists. Forcing them up, from angled down to horizontal and further, forearms now pointed upwards crossed wrists pressed into the small of her back.
Finishing the tie, small grunts from Deborah each time I tighten a knot. Her upper half now immobilised, squeezed. Looking cute.
Helping her up onto the bed, both of us kneeling me before her, working on Deborah's legs binding each like a frogs: upper thigh bound to ankle.
Having to remind myself It's a shoot, about to reach out and run a hand across her thrust out chest. Erect nipples stabbing at the dress.
"Ready?"
"Ggghhhffttt rrrssssggg." Nodding. Still kneeling as I fetch the toys.
A bullet dildo, long and fat. Plus a butt plug, bulbous head tapering off. Both silver. Deborah leaning her head on my chest, breathing hard, shaking slightly as I lube each intruder in turn before gently sliding them inside.
Adding a tight crotch rope to pin them in place, her dress hitched up pussy and butt completely exposed.
Laying her down. Whimpering in what sounds like baseline pleasure, not pain or discomfort. Rolling onto her side, with help and a final touch: Deborah's dress straps pulled down to her taut biceps, E cups exposed and to the nipple of each I fix a steel clamp.
Taking hold of each, having to grip and then pull to provide a spot for the teeth to grasp.
Deborah moaning, eyes closed.
"Okay." Kneeling on the floor, head close to hers. "Debs?"
"Rrrssssgggmmmn." Slow blinking, wriggling. "Ggggfff dddrrrgghhppffff sssrrr mmmnngggddd."
She nods, I retreat behind the cameras.
Flicking everything on.
Twice. She climaxes twice, and watching her I come perilously close too.
Deborah bounces- those E cups hypnotic as they bob and shake -and wriggles, struggling and rolling. Moaning. Panting. Sometimes fighting the ropes, sometimes catching her breath body completely still. Breathing and staring.
Staring at the camera as I step in to film closer, slow blinking and jaw parting, drool bubbling up and a long low moan that feels like a kick aimed directly at my clit. Which throbs in answer. Thrusting her chest out as I glide over, spreading her legs and thrusting that too, pussy in my face.
The toys vibrate, controlled via my phone, a sliding scale and she.
Staring at me, legs wide laid on her side. Small nod and a moan that could, could? Be interpreted as pleading. Pushing her crotch at me.
Does she beg for that second climax?
I have a really hard time not touching myself, remaining professional. Watching her is such a massive turn on. This fantastically sexy looking girl from out of my dreams and my past. Bound and gagged.
On my bed.
Is she into it? Is this just an act, playing for the cameras?
"Okay." Climbing up and removing the clamps, her gag and rolling Deborah over and back for better access as I go. "We're done."
"Right." A nod.
Swallowing. Biting her lip as, crotch rope removed I carefully prise the plug and dildo free.
Getting started on her leg ropes, right side, knot loose and pulling the ends through, slackening off Deborah's leg slowly straightening out and.
"B?"
"Debs?" Tossing the rope but pausing, scooting forward to sort of lie down, body supported on elbows and knees F cups dangling, head level with hers and as I look, smile.
Deborah slow blinks, not seeming all there which I understand. Coming down off a shoot and for awhile reality doesn't seem quite, real.
"I thought we were talking?"
"Yes." Finally slipping up, reaching out to brush hair off her face. "We will."
"But I thought." Confused frown and she wriggles, arms straining pushing at her ropes. "I'm not staying bound?" Rolling onto her side and I nearly get a face full of E cups.
"That's tempting." And it is, she looks amazing. Bound and sweaty, on my bed and I could easily. Easily, take advantage: climb up and ease myself back against the headboard, Deborah struggling, bringing herself to lay between my spread legs, tongue put to good use licking my crotch.
And something in my grin must announce the train of thought because Deborah blushes, offering back a small smile, eyes looking more focused.
She wriggles again.
"But." Professional. "Maybe we could talk over dinner instead?"
"Right." Nodding. "Good. Um." Rolling back over and bouncing, waving her still trussed leg at me. "Carry on then, please."
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
I didn't want, I'd decided, to simply end Scotland and then have them drift apart. Far better to make something interesting happen.
'Interesting' seems about right. Intriguing would be another way to put it.
-
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
"Why can't I be both?"
There is a tirade in there somewhere that involves an in-depth discussion of social norms and intersects with various political elements, but it is a question that does not actually require an answer (because it is obvious and Brooke is painfully aware of why).
Palpable frustration at play on her part.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
Old Japanese navel flag hanging off one wall.
I assume that is supposed to be 'naval'?
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
Is she into it? Is this just an act, playing for the cameras?
Perhaps she should not have set the situation up in such a manner as she did if this was going to be her concern. Especially given her personal experiences with similar situations
Of course even she (and certainly Deborah with her flippant responses earlier) realizes how silly and poorly planned the whole thing is.
It makes sense however, given how upside-down her world feels. When there is impending change/consequences of this sort looming, it is not surprising that she goes off in what seems like a random, crazy direction.
Although I find it curious you did not give any details about the e-mail. I suspect (and did so already in the previous chapter although this pointed omission only solidified my suspicions) this may be a case of Brooke overreacting/assuming what might happen, rather then the situation actually being as bad as she thinks. I could certainly imagine the conversation going a different direction then she seems to be expecting.
Or I could be completely wrong. I suppose that is the fun of having to wait and see what actually happens
On another note, I find myself about as surprised as Brooke as to Deborah's willingness to go along with all of this. I suppose there are some obvious reasons for her to do so, but again, curious to see where it all goes (and I suppose there is always the meta-story reason of having more tie-ups).
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 weeks ago
"Why can't I be both?"
There is a tirade in there somewhere that involves an in-depth discussion of social norms and intersects with various political elements, but it is a question that does not actually require an answer (because it is obvious and Brooke is painfully aware of why).
Palpable frustration at play on her part.
Caesar73 wrote: ↑1 week ago
"Why can't I have both? Why can't I be a friend to trees and a bondage porn star?"
The question of questions It remains to be seen what Stan has in mind - I am curious.
Interesting- or not, depending -aside. I'm sort of directly quoting 'High School Musical'
The line is a tease, between myself and someone I was close to. Something often used in moments of Indecision.
"Why can't I have both?" and thinking this plot twist up for Brooke the line occurred, and how could I not add it in
On which subject still
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑1 week ago
Although I find it curious you did not give any details about the e-mail. I suspect (and did so already in the previous chapter although this pointed omission only solidified my suspicions) this may be a case of Brooke overreacting/assuming what might happen, rather then the situation actually being as bad as she thinks. I could certainly imagine the conversation going a different direction then she seems to be expecting.
Or I could be completely wrong. I suppose that is the fun of having to wait and see what actually happens
Deliberate vagueness on my part. Usually I'd include the email exchange, because I enjoy writing the random extra content as much as anything.
But lack of detail here encourages the not knowing. It really could go either way: fired or much ado about nothing.
And soon- wrapping, ha, up Deborah first -we'll find out.
A totally unsurprising bit of insight into Brooke's character.
