Mineira1986 wrote: ↑2 years ago
Missed two updates! =(
Great development. Finally Brie is starting to look at Ambrose and Cecilia's place as home (as well as new people in her life). I'm so happy for Brie!
The following chapter... excellent descriptions. Quite imaginative escape challenge for Brie. Like Cecilia said, I'm proud for her too.
Can't wait for the next part. I so love this story.
Ah, thank you so much for your kind words! It was a fun challenge to tinker with in my head to get it to work.
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As I plowed through apple crumble, someone shuffled behind me. I spun around, almost bumping into a pair of enormous breasts. The head above them spoke. “Eh, Bree, my apologies,” Aoife breathed. She had had dinner with Rachel for some informal time off while I had dined with Cecilia and Ambrose. “I totally forgot I owed ya for that portrait.”
“Oh, yeah,” I replied, still taken aback by the redhead. Her indifference to her exposed, nude body kept surprising me. I had nearly forgotten about my payment, half expecting the meals, bed, and ‘party’ all were part of the exchange.
Aoife handed me a plain white envelope. “Here, take this. I’ve no clue what you typically charge, so if it’s not enough, feel free to complain. Otherwise, it’s a bonus.”
“Thanks, thank you a lot,” I smiled, accepting the envelope.
“Cool, see ya later,” Aoife stated before striding away with her hands behind her back.
I fumbled the envelope into my pocket. I could restart my emergency fund.
“Aren’t you curious what you got?” Ambrose asked.
“I trust her that it’s adequate.”
“How much do you expect?”
I deduced that he anticipated or had knowledge it was a generous amount, for my standards. “I often ask somewhere between thirty and fifty for such a detailed drawing.”
The man in front of me smirked and made me feel small and vulnerable in his home. “You undersell yourself.”
“Please, open it,” Cecilia cut in.
A plea by your hosts is hard to refuse. Uncomfortable, I grasped the nicely smelling paper and tore it open, taking four notes out, each bearing the likeness of Ulysses S. Grant. All in all, 200 dollars. “This’s way too much,” I expressed politely, already considering how much this would aid me: Food for a month, a new tent, and whatever else I had lost.
“It’s not,” Ambrose disagreed. “Aoife already made twice that amount of that drawing. It gained traction.”
Cecilia beamed. “There’s a career for you in this business.”
I slid the bills back into the envelope and returned to my dessert. Complaining about the bonus would not get me anywhere. My mentioned prices were the maximum I could get, so Aoife had utilized her massive following.
“We want to take it slowly but also desire to show you our way of living and teach you the ropes.”
“So,” Cecilia interrupted her husband. “What about you tying up Aoife tonight?”
After getting the money, a subject switch to bondage was predictable, but I had not expected to do the tying. “Sorry, I don’t know how to do that.”
Cecilia chuckled. “But that’s the point! You need to learn.”
The Irish girl knelt before me, knees half a foot apart and her hands folded behind her back. She stared at my socks.
“So, what you wanna do?” Cecilia questioned from the couch.
I was stumped.
“Be imaginative,” Ambrose added. “Make it your own creation. She doesn’t bite.”
I nodded and reached in the wooden box beside me: ropes, cuffs, gags, and much else. I sighed. What was I doing? A pink rope ended up in my hands, and I untangled it. It had to be mended in a solid shape, plastered around Aoife’s limbs. I could never do that. I could lace my shoes, but that’s it, and trying would only culminate in a chaotic clutter.
Cuffs? The chains clattered between my fingers, and I studied the half-moons that could restrict a limb forever. What could I do with them? A hogtie was a possibility like Yuna’s the day before yesterday: Wrists together, ankles together, and connect those behind her back. Nah, that was too simple and uncreative, and besides, Cecilia and Ambrose had instructed me to tie Aoife up. Cuffs cannot tie. I also placed them back.
Then, my eyes spotted a third option on the bottom of the box. The cotton bandanas in red and black were likely meant as gags as I had seen them being used similarly earlier. But, they could also bind Aoife. With two windings and a knot, it would be stuck, and within that little knot, there was little technique. I could not mess this up. I selected four of them and shoved the box aside. I glanced at my powerless yet seemingly volitional victim. What’s next?
I scrambled for ideas. “Eh, could you please grab your ankles?” I requested, regretting instantly. I had no plan. Often, the hands were tied behind the back, right? Had I already broken the first rule?
Without hesitation or looking up, Aoife clutched her ankles while still kneeling. She had awaited this moment.
“Uh, sorry, my bad, I meant that you sit down,” I bluffed.
Aoife complied, landing on her ass and showing me I was still ambiguous. First, Her hands moved outside her legs and gripped her ankles from the outside. Then her elbows rested against her thighs and forced her hand outside her ankles, exposing her vagina casually.
“Keep them inside your thighs, then cross them,” I commanded as if it had been my plan all along. Or well, said, as I was not very persuasive, like the employees of the Tangled Maiden had been. I felt dirty, not having realized how much I exposed her clit.
Aoife obeyed, and I wound a red bandana around her right ankle and left hand. Her limps were quite slim, and I preferred evading her bare skin. That was weird. So, keeping my hands on the red fabric, I wound it around them another time, tensioned it, and waved it around the knot once. Cinching, that was called. I tied the two ends together, and they stayed together. But then disaster struck. Through the green woolen sweater, my elbow scraped something. Aoife’s arms squeezed her breasts together, and I had pressured them too. I pulled away.
“I, … I am sorry. It was an accident. I…”
“It’s permitted,” Aoife cut me off. She had not openly spoken since giving me the envelope. She fulfilled her role and rules dutifully but broke character now. “No need to apologize. If I feared you touching me, I would not be sitting here. Come here.” The fingers of her free hand clenched my wrist and moved it, letting my open hand press against her breast. Her puppy eyes sparkled. “Feel it. Squeeze it. That’s all fair game.”
Not to be rude, I did it gently. Never having touched any other boob than my own, the rigidness surprised me. Aoife did not even blink. I nodded and withdrew: Back to the bondage. I had no intention to get a glimpse of Cecilia and Ambrose watching us. I repositioned such that I could impossibly brush her boobs again, bound her other hand to the ankle as well, and linked the crossed wrists for good measure.
I took a step back, judging the result. Aoife was helpless, unable to get loose, but that did not bother her. She was relaxed, and her eyes twinkled. Ambrose raised his thumb in approval. Or well, a Houdini would escape, but for a first attempt, it could be worse.
“You could add accessories,” Cecilia suggested. “A gag, blindfold, earplugs, nipple clamps, anything you like.”
The entire idea of nipple clamps horrified me. I would not do that to anyone, so I would only gag Aoife. I did not want to hurt or discomfort her. I laid a knot in the last bandana and pushed that knot in Aoife’s mouth (she cooperated pleasingly) and fastened it.
“Looks great, girl,” Cecilia laughed. “Give her a cushion to rest on, and then you are golden.”
“And, eh, now what?” I inquired after sliding the dog pillow to her.
“Just wait. Release her in an hour or so if she’s good.”
“Otherwise, you should punish her,” Ambrose warned. I would not.