Today's part is a bit longer than usual as I could not find a good spot to cut it off earlier.
tickletied84 wrote: ↑2 years ago
I agree - there's a real sense of intrigue, about not knowing if Bree is going to be safe in the next chapter, enjoy herself, or escape back to her world for a while. Wonderfully written!
Thanks a lot!
Caesar73 wrote: ↑2 years ago
This Chapter was most illuminating
The conversations were really interessting: What Bree felt for instance - and Miriam? I understand that Bree shows her the cold shoulder, I still wonder what her Agenda really is ....
Thanks a lot. Bree is almost paranoia of friendly people, and whether or not the hostess of the bondage inn wants to help, Bree will have problems trusting her. In the next chapter, there will be less talking and some more serious bondage.
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My doubts had revived themselves in the time between my breakfast and the start of Marlon’s bondage class. Miriam was charismatic and knew how to pressure me subtly into anything. She was as sly as a fox, like everyone here. Therefore, I had to rely on facts, and most were dubious at best. Had Alison’s car broken down? Does this inn not have one spare mattress lying around? Had someone forgotten to dry my clothes?
The Tangled Maiden had made so many coincidental errors, and Miriam had lied before: She had locked the cage. It all could be white lies, but it would be a good sign if they turned out to be factual.
“Alison, Alison, can I ask you something?” I said, walking towards the departing waitresses. “What’s wrong with your car? Can I help in any way?”
Alison reddened. “Um, it wasn’t broken,” she replied to my surprise. “I locked myself out, and my only other roommate was at a party. She’s waiting outside with the spare key.”
“Okay, have a nice weekend.”
Due to the inn’s tinted windows, I would have to shadow Kimberly and Alison outside, which would be even more apparent than my awkward interrogation. Their response had appeared genuine, and I regretted not having my lockpicks on me even more. I had never broken into a car but knew how to open one. To spend the rest of the time, I completed my drawing of Yuna at a free table. At least I trusted her more now.
Someone tapped on my shoulder. “Hey, you’re Bree, right?” a slender woman in her early thirties said. Her black braid danced on her shoulder blades. “I’m Joanne, and this’s Dennis,” she stated, pointing at a muscular man with short spiked hair. “Miriam informed me you could draw me during the tie-up lesson?”
“Hi, good morning. Yeah, that’s right,” I replied. I did not hide my drawing of Yuna to show my craft. I was not a total beginner. “I’m not too experienced with bondage but have drawn thousands of portraits and full-body sketches. What are you looking for?”
“I’m not sure,” Joanna said. “If I’m gagged, it wouldn’t fit well in the living room anyhow. What about the entire tie?”
“Then it might get hard to draw your face very accurately. I’m unsure how you’ll be tied up but assume that adding most of your torso would showcase you and your bondage.” I had to pretend to be professional, even though I had no idea what I was doing here.
“Miriam mentioned it’d be twenty. Is that fine by you?”
“Yeah, twenty, but I’ll only charge if you’re satisfied.”
“Okay, sounds good,” Joanna said. “I’ll change, and then we’ll see each other in class.”
I wished her goodbye, only to realize I was clueless about where I had to go. I collected my belongings, and at my request, Miriam directed me to another door into a room filled with intense natural light. Like a dance room, polished wood covered the floor, and one wall consisted of a gigantic mirror. Shiny steel hooks, pulleys, chains, and rails coated the ceiling, and rings were drilled into the floor. The room hovered somewhere between a medieval torture dungeon, a meat processing plant, and an empty fitness studio.
“Hey, you can sit over there,” Marlon pointed at a chair and desk that should belong in a middle school. “Good luck. You can do it.”
I grinned as Marlon turned to chatter with the two already present couples. The men wore casual t-shirts and jeans while the women wore black leotards. My presence had to startle them – a stranger observing and capturing their intimate moment – so I stared at the blank paper in front of me. As for any a paid gig, I would not use my cheap printer paper but a sheet from my sketchbook. My pencils were sharpened and my eraser clean. I was ready but nervous. Drawing for money was stressful as I had to perform while ruining my own doodles, like the ones of Yuna and Miriam, bore no consequences. Moreover, I had to portray someone stuck in a web of bondage.
When the fifth couple, Joanna and Dennis, entered, Marlon drove with a trolley with five clear plastic storage bins filled with brown hemp ropes into the room. His large body, bald head, and forked black beard still intimidated me. “Group, it’s week 10, so we’re entering the realms of the more advanced ties. As usual, you should not try these ties without anyone knowledgeable present. They’re dangerous. Today, we’ll start studying partial suspensions to produce our first full suspensions in a few weeks. Today’s goal is to provide comfort to our subs, and thus being photogenic would be a pleasant coincidence. Hence, we start without gags and blindfolds. Communicate well together. Any questions?”
Everyone bobbed their heads and started with the hip harnesses, which required much more rope but were unimpressive. Marlon emphasized them as they would carry most of the weight and had to spread the strain well. If they were sloppy, it would be painful instead of mildly uncomfortable. It scared me, as I had been promised two hours for my drawing but had squandered a quarter of that time without producing a single stroke.
I observed my subject, Joanna, closely. Her black leotard hugged her body, and she was spirited and bantered with her husband. She did not dislike or fear being tied up and actually looked forward to it. I was not to judge and noted I had to indicate this in my drawing. They made an adorable duo.
“Bree, this’s our pose,” Dennis spoke. He hooked a rope to the hip harness, ran it over a pulley, and secured it to a ring in the floor behind her. Joanna leaned backward and stood on her right leg as she raised her left leg and aimed it outwards. Her knee bent it back inward as she squeezed her heel against her butt. She lifted her arms up behind her head, and her wrists crossed. “It’ll take an hour to tie her, so could you make a start with this?”
“Totally! She looks great!” I replied. Calling someone beautiful made them smile. I pinched my eyes one last time to print this image in my mind and traced the outlines of Joanna’s body from her crotch and bent leg to her wrists. I wanted to get as many ropes in the tiny space while also saving room for important details like her facial expression.
I detailed her face as Dennis tied her while I hoped her expression would not change. Dennis would add ropes pretty much everywhere else, and I could not estimate how they would press into her skin. The inward-pointing cheeks of her diamond-shaped face amplified her cheekbones, especially as her nose was somewhat small and narrow. The black eyebrows above her dark brown eyes were almost straight and curved down into her eye sockets near her nose. She would age into a librarian, but her current joy hid her stern resting face well. Her eyes twinkled deviously, like a kid discovering how to raid the candy jar with a friend.
Then I moved down to her chest as Dennis had finished tying it. Ropes ran above, under, and between her breasts. He had also steered them behind her neck, both while crossing and not crossing before her throat, and together they produced a five-pointed star. On her back, it looked dreadful, but without knots on the front, it was not overly cruel and could feature in a high-range fashion show.
“Looks great, guys,” Marlon said when he came by before instructing how to improve the tie. A slight shift here, somewhat tighter there, and a knot in another direction made small, observable changes. For these people, bondage was an art form. Dennis was concentrated, and Joanna was silent and motionless and sometimes gazed at me with a synthetic laugh. I answered the smile and retreated to my drawing to not disturb her further. This job was as awkward for her.
Then Dennis fastened her left ankle to its upper leg and led a rope from the stump to a ceiling hook to force her leg almost vertical. He crossed her wrists and led the access rope up, and her right leg had become her sole movable limb and had to support her weight too to finalize his wife’s predicament.
“You good, honey?”
“Absolutely!” Joanna replied. Her foot shuffled on the floor. “This’s so awesome.”
“Ready for the next step?”
Joanna agreed, and Dennis walked behind her to release the rope leading to her hip harness. He refastened it tighter, so his wife had to balance on the front of her foot. That would take its toll. Marlon praised his work and suggested adding a big black ball-gag, earplugs, and a blindfold so “she could experience the complexity of the position.”
This gave me enough time to finish my drawing. I had worked hard and began to like the result. The effects of the ropes on Joanna’s skin were manageable: slight dents at best without discoloration or marks. The hemp itself was not a challenge: It had a clear winding pattern with sometimes a sprig bending away sideways. It grabbed onto her skin.
“Oh, wow, that’s marvelous,” I heard behind me. Dennis leaned over my shoulder. “You captured the essence of Joanna. How much more time do you need?”
“Thanks, about fifteen minutes.”
“Mind If I lower her already? She struggles.”
“No, no, go ahead. I only need to add a background and minor details.”
As loads of white space remained on the paper, I drew Joanna’s mirror image in the giant mirror. As it was the background, I could omit details and make it unsharp. A few more lines later, it was clear the wall was a mirror, and once I rechecked every part and made lesser changes, I was done. It was far from flawless and incomparable with Michelangelo, Da Vinci, or Rembrandt but not bad for ninety minutes of uninterrupted work. I could charge 20 bucks without being a beggar.
“Holy, uh, Bree, that’s incredible!” Joanna cursed as I handed her the drawing. She had been untied save for her chest bondage. “Claire! Come here, you gotta see this.” Another woman approached my desk, and I flushed as a swelling crowd praised my hasty sketch. “Twenty was the deal, right? You’ll get thirty.”
Although the words were hers, Dennis faithfully removed three tenners from his wallet. “We’ll continue in a private room,” he winked and seized his wife’s arm.