So. Whilst I try to both think up a suitable continuation for Plymouth, and begin work on something new for the everyone section.
Time for another vote story. Which, as always, I'll keep running for as long as my energy lasts.
Usual rules. I don't tend to keep the voting open longer then a day, as I'm often eager to write. But. Read, vote, and of course the most voted choice wins. And gets written up.
Enjoy
(I'm quite pleased with the opener, plenty of room for multiple options going forward )
Last edited by RopeBunny2 years ago, edited 11 times in total.
"Username?" I ponder, tapping my pen against the pad of paper, upon which I should've been doing coursework, but instead the lined sheet before me is full of crossed out words. Potential names chosen and discarded over the last half hour.
It's all Lara's fault, my best friend of three years.
Mum moved us, well, me and her, to the area right before exams. It's thanks to Lara I scored so well: all B's and C's, which I had been predicted, in my old comprehensive. But the move, literally from one side of England to the other, it screwed with my head.
But she, assigned on day one as my official 'buddy', calmed me down. I don't make friends easily, but with Lara it all just seemed to happen naturally. It sounds like a joke, but, I was the only goth girl in my old comp, and she in hers, in mine now. So, like that we had a reason to stick close.
It was, and sometimes still is, us against the world.
We don't go to the same college. She's across town, studying Mathematics. Crazy girl. My college is an hours bus ride away, where, don't laugh, I'm learning how to cut the grass.
I said don't laugh.
Maybe it's the whole goth angle? That I've a growing interest in tie ups because of all the chains and the black? As evidence, backing my theory up, Lara's into it all too. About a month ago, giggling the whole time, we jointly ordered four metal cuffs- the real heavy duty ones -and a black ballgag. Not red, because: goth. Obviously. We giggled some more as we took turns cuffing each other to her single bed one Sunday, wearing ripped jeans and band tee's.
But I, we both, want to play more. So I've been convinced and bullied, but with a smile so it's okay, into joining this bondage forum first.
Lara's going to hide behind the nearest rock and peer out, with binoculars, waiting until I decide it's safe before joining herself.
Why don't we just play together some more? Simply put, we're friends. Yes we could, and may, tie each other up again, but anything intimate, and I'd like to be touched please and thank you, just isn't a place we could go to. I might be into girls, but, unless I'm very much mistaken, Lara isn't.
At least, I don't think so anyway?
"Black grass." I type the words, making it all one long word, but with two capital letters. "Good." Nodding. "Not too obvious." Which would've been easy to do, but I didn't want to be bound something or tied whatever. "Plus." Lara adds from across the room, sat on my bed flicking through an Iron Man comic. She's here to help, but to spy too. She gestures at me. "It's a good name, because, it's you."
"True." Because grass, which I try to mow in a straight line.
Harder then it sounds.
Yes it is. And we have to get the height just right, and don't even get me started on proper mower maintenance.
Plus the word black, a hint at both my skin tone and my gothic preferences.
"All set." Email address entered, I scroll through various windows, finding then clicking on the verification email. "So." Sitting back, thinking, staring at this hopefully good thing I've just done. "What should my avatar be?"
"You?"
"Yeah?"
"Well." Lara closes the comic, climbing across the bed to me and sitting herself down with legs dangling off the edge. "Logically...."
Yes?"
"You're joining to meet someone, right?"
"That's the plan."
"So, show yourself off." Reaching out to tug at the front of my grey vest top. I swat her hand away, we both giggle.
"You've got a point." Looking down at my cleavage. "Only thing is, if the avatar is me, then what photo do I want to take?"
What should the avatar be?"
A- Bed tied wearing a band tee and denim shorts.
B- Ballgagged and wrists cuffed, cleavage on show.
C- Close up of chest harness.
"Got to say," I gesture, waving an arm that takes in Lara, the rope puddled in her lap, plus my laptop open on the bed in front of her, "none of that inspires confidence."
"Just get dressed already." Looking up, tossing a rope, already coiled and neat, at me playfully. "Nobody here needs to see that toned belly."
I stick out my tongue as the rope flies over my right shoulder- Lara's a terrible shot -then return my attention to the various tee's hanging in my wardrobe.
"So." Musing aloud, just so Lara can pitch in, should she choose. "I need to wear something, because the sites rules say no naked avatars. But." I grin, slipping off my white lace bra, tossing it casually over my shoulder. "That doesn't mean I can't forget to wear a bra under my tee."
"Do you mind." Tutting, from behind me. I turn, and laugh. By some fluke, because my aim- neither of us cares much for actual sports -is as bad as Lara's, my bra has landed atop her head.
"Oops."
"Honestly." Tossing my bra into a corner. "Just," gesturing at my chest, which she's seen plenty of times, as have I hers, because as friends we've gotten changed together plenty, and have even shared a bed- no sex -a half dozen times after nights out, "put a tee on."
"Right." Still grinning, turning back around again. "Sorry."
"You're not though." I can hear the humour in her voice. "You're just showing off."
"Just." A shrug, it's an old argument. "Trying to show you the benefits of a good diet and some swimming."
"Think I'll stick to Netflix and pizza thanks." I shake my head, grinning, knowing the sound I can hear is Lara patting her belly.
She looks good for a bigger girl though, the sexy side of curvy. Lara tends towards dresses, mostly black or with some gothic inspired pattern, always low cut. And always worn with a waist cinching underbust corset, either buckled or laced up at the front. This gives her size eighteen frame a very appealing hourglass look, and never fails to make her large F cups appear on the verge of spilling out. Her skin is pale, decorated by two tattoo's: an evil looking tree in black on her upper left leg, complete with a half dozen roosting black birds. And a demonic black skull on her left bicep. Lara's hair is dyed purple, and thick framed black glasses sit on her face.
At some point back in my families history I dare say we weren't English born, but honestly I've no clue where my dark skin, very dark on me, originates from. I'm taller then Lara, just over average height for a girl, and a much skinnier size eight, with D cups that look impressive on my slender frame, but still look lost next to Lara's cannons. My hair, curly like hers, and no less long as it tumbles over my shoulders, is still the natural black I was born with. I've no tattoo's, but I do have snakebite piercings, a pair of dull silver hoops on my lower lips. My own fashion leans towards jeans or leggings and a tight tee.
"How's this?"
"Definitely." Lara gives me a thumbs up. I've gone for my blue Superman tee, a snug fit like all my tops. Hugging the curves, stretching the yellow and red S across my D cups. We, well me, but I was happy to take some advice on the issue, have opted for my tied breasts to be my avatar.
The only issue being: yes I own rope, thanks to some recent shopping trips I now own plenty of bondage gear. However, neither of us knows how to tie someone up, let alone someone's breasts.
All we've done, either of us, is play with the cuffs and ballgag that one time.
Luckily Google is riding to our rescue. Lara's spent the last ten minutes, whilst I was selecting my outfit, finding a good enough porn video to help us. She's tutted plenty, commenting aloud on how the various videos keep skipping the actual tying up of the girls. But, it appears she's finally found one featuring an onscreen chest harness tie.
So we're on.
"Just." Standing up, Lara positions me beside my desk, upon which my laptop is open. I'm facing her, so can't see the screen. "Stay still Con. Okay?"
"Okay." Nodding, feeling a small tingle of excitement. I'll be a good girl and stand still, let Lara work. She's helping me after all.
Con, since you asked, is short for Constance. Fuck knows why Mum, because Dad hasn't been around, ever. Why she wanted to gift me such an old fashioned name is beyond me. But, I've grown to like it.
It sounds like a pleasant walk in the park, all sunshine and smiles. It also, to me, sounds gothic, like some crazy old lady drifting, lost, maybe even trapped in some old haunted house.
Lara pushes play, and, rope in hand, the longest length I bought, she gets to work.
There are, there must be, several different ways to tie a chest harness? But the one Lara's found involves binding my wrists too. She starts. Stops. Rewinds the video and frowns. Starts again. Stops. Curses. Curses more when I giggle, managing to shut me up with a yanked knot about my wrists. She grins. Carries on.
"Okay." Nodding to herself, doing a lap of me, tugging at ropes, small frowns becoming small smiles as nothing comes loose. Her harness remains in place. Remains tight. "You're done Con."
"This is the same?" Looking down at my chest, impressed by what the ropework has done to my breasts. "I look like the video?"
"As close as I can make it." Giving me a hopeful look. "Are you happy?"
"It's." Wandering over to my full length mirror. How bizarre to be bound and yet still mobile. What a thrill. "Oh. Wow." Turning left and right, my grin spreading. "Lara you fantastic goth. I love it."
Lara grins, blushing.
The start of the tie was my wrists, bound one above the other, my arms placed horizontally behind me. The long rope was doubled, making a small loop, something to pass the two ends through before reversing direction. With my wrists wrapped and tied off, Lara bought the doubled rope around my body, first above the breasts, then, after connecting with my wrist bindings and reversing direction, the rope went below them.
Apparently we could've gone up over my shoulders too, separating my breasts with a V of rope at the front, but I wanted the Superman S to be unobstructed. So we left the harness at that, and Lara tied off then hid the excess rope behind my back.
She takes a dozen photos. We're having just my chest as the avatar, no face, no stomach, just the breasts. So, I move around my room, trying out spots near the window for natural sunlight, plus different things behind me since some small part of my surroundings will be visible.
Much to my disappointment, and Lara's amusement at it, she unties me once the photos are taken. "You'll be getting plenty of rope fun soon." She points out. "Plus. I'm not sitting here all evening just so you can have fun rolling around on the bed."
"I'd tie you up after." I would too. I think, it feels like anyway from our brief conversations, plus the one play with the cuffs, that Lara's the more naturally dominant of us. She just seemed to enjoy tying me more then I did her. But, I did enjoy tying her, and, fairs fair. I'd do it again.
If she asked.
Or maybe if she didn't. Wink wink and all that.
But. "No." Smiling, but shaking her head. "I've got coursework to do. Sorry Con."
"S' okay." Because it is. There's always next time.
I walk her to the door, bringing my laptop downstairs with me. And, whilst cooking chicken curry for dinner- I cook most weeknights since Mum works late -I go through the photos.
I like, really like, the way my breasts look. The rope top and bottom squeezes them, pushes them forward, very much appearing to offer them up to the camera, and therefore to whomever checks my profile. Not wearing a bra seems to of been a good choice too, my nipples, because I'd been very excited in those ropes, very turned on. My nipples can clearly be seen poking at the blue fabric of the tee.
I select the best one, the fuzzy out of focus pirate flag hanging from my bedroom wall in shot off to the right behind me. And post it. Apparently it'll take an hour or two for approval.
I'll have to check in this evening.
What happens next?
A- A clearly fake profile gets in touch. Huge fake breasts, tattoo's, skinny. Like a porn star. Fake, surely?
B- Nothing happens, or at least nothing beyond a whole bunch of girls from far away messaging. And what good is that? Constance and Lara spend a Saturday night at Lara's, bitching and drinking.
"I mean." Staring at my laptop, talking to nobody. "It, is a message. I guess."
My photo didn't get approved until late, after which two full days of college have kept me away from anything not related to grass.
How much grass is too much? Maybe if I ever dream about it.
But today is Saturday. No super early start, no bus ride. Saturday does mean work, I do a ten through to six, plus a Tuesday and Wednesday six until ten evening shift, every week at the drive thru Burger King out by the multi screen cinema. So, though work is hard, there's no coursework to complete afterwards, which means I finally get the chance to log in and check my account.
Where I find Tied2play's message, waiting for me.
'Evening BG.
Profile pic really caught my attention, wink. I am all about that pirate life lol.
Can I be honest? I'm here to play, real life play not some crappy online pretend. What are you here looking for?
(Is it me? wink)
Come find me, let's chat. I'm not even hiding lol.
Sam x'
I click, jumping from message to profile. And. "Nope." Clicking off. "No way is any of that real. I mean," clicking back, gesturing, waving at my screen, at the photo front and centre, "nobody who looks like that needs any help finding someone to play with."
I tut, clicking the home icon, taking me away from Sam and her clearly fake breasts.
I put together a search, for females in the UK looking for other females. For switches- because that's what I am, because I like to tie and be tied, or so it seems -looking for same. I leave the age range slider, and the advanced search options such as ethnicity, alone. I click to view the results. And.
"Fucks sake." Smiling, shaking my head. "Like a," I tut, "bad smell or something." Tied2play, those breasts again, halfway down page one.
I send a half dozen messages out, to a variety of girls from a pretty young Asian to a fourty something single Mum. I do my best to make each message individual, I ask questions, comment on things each girl has said in their profile.
"Okay." Nodding. "Enough." Closing the site, my laptop, down, I wander downstairs to find Mum, spending a couple of hours sat beside her on the sofa watching whatever shows she's currently into.
"I just." Sitting in bed, gone midnight, unable to sleep because. "I just want." I huff, tut and shake my head. "Fucking." Throwing off my duvet, climbing out and stalking naked across my room, grabbing my laptop. "Stupid fake amazing breasts." Stalking back across to my bed, climbing back in and sitting up, duvet back around my legs, laptop open and resting in my lap. "Just one more look." Holding up a finger. "One."
Sam's profile isn't long, but it is well written. Apparently, and I'm very much fifty fifty on whether any of this is real, she's twenty-two, and lives about a two hour train journey away. Like me she's a switch, and lists her level of experience at less then a year. "So maybe a little more then me?" I ponder, scrolling up and down. There isn't much about her personal life, save for the fact she's single and works as a secretary. She lists gaming as a main interest, alongside swimming and. "Going on adventures." I read. "Honestly." Shaking my head.
It's her photo that's the real head scratcher though. "Just can't be real." I repeat. "No way."
She, or the girl in the photo anyway. Looks early twenties young. A skinny size six, lacking the muscle that swimming has given me, but she isn't a bag of bones either. Pale skin and dyed green hair, which is longer then mine, and straight. The photo is a top looking down, face staring up, selfie style shot. Not much of Sam is visible beyond her face, and of course those breasts. Which are huge. They must be E or F cups, clearly implants, nothing real is that perfectly round.
Apparently she has tattoo's? But I can't see any. That said I can't see her arms, or back, or belly or legs. So. "Maybe she does?"
She looks. "Stunning." I admit, knowing that, if I had the chance, of course I'd want to meet her, to play and be played with by her. "So," scrolling down, "guess I might as well try then huh." I click back to Sam's message, hit reply, and get to work.
'Sam.
MY profile pic caught YOUR attention?! lol
Thanks for messaging. And for being honest. I'm here looking for some real fun too. I want to meet up, to be tied up, maybe even to tie you up too? wink. After all what's a pirate without a kidnapped damsel to ransom lol.
Not really sure you could hide? That chest kinda stands out lol
Constance x'
"So." Closing my laptop down, yawning. "Your move I guess."
I wake up to a message.
'Avast there Constance lol
Damn my F cups, looks like I'll have to be your kidnapped damsel lol Only, promise you'll be gentle with me.
Please.
No? Well, okay, go ahead and do your worst. wink
Sam x'
I grin. "I mean. Fake." Nodding. "Of course. But," typing away, "no reason why I can't have some fun."
'Sam.
My worst huh? Well, I'll try, but with my limited experience whatever tie I place your busty little body in might not do a great job of holding you.
Might be a mutiny brewing lol
Will you be gentle with me?
Con(stance) x'
"And. Send." After which I go into town with Lara, who's far too engrossed in clothes shopping to ask properly about the site. We have dinner, then part company, because Sam works Sunday evenings at her local Dominos pizza, manning the phones and oven.
Back home, and another message.
'Con.
Will I be gentle? Fuck no lol. I'll have you trussed up so tight you'll be begging me to loosen the ropes.
Or you would be, begging, except that you'll be gagged wink.
No prisoners lol
Sam(antha) xx'
I grin, and begin typing.
'Sam.
Should I surrender now?
Just tell me where and when wink
(Seriously)
Con xx'
"Fuck." Tingling. Heart beating faster. "Shit, fuck me." Did I really just type that? Will I really go through with it? "Fuck me." Shaking my head, laughing but with more nerves then humour. Because. Yes I would. Will. I really am, it seems, willing to roll the dice with whomever Sam really is.
"If she replies, now that I've called her out."
I can't sit still. Can't focus on coursework. I ring Lara, luckily catching her on break.
"She looks that good huh?"
"Yeah." Huffing out a breath. "Too good to be real."
"Well," a pause, "got to wonder, Con. Why are you even messaging her then?"
"I." Getting up off the bed, gesturing as I walk circles of my room. "I just. Damn it."
"Wow." Lara laughs. "She really must look good."
"I just want to know." I admit. "If she meets me. Then."
"Then you'll be careful. Right?"
"Sure." Waving the comment away. "Sure."
"Promise me Con." Serious tone, almost ordering. I shiver, my still largely undiscovered submissive side sitting up, taking notice.
"I." Huff. Tingle, in part because, just maybe, I won't be careful. The idea of leaping in, of putting myself at fates mercy, is appealing. The ultimate surrender. "Promise."
"Good." Swallowing my half lie. "Got to go Con. Take care of you."
"Talk soon."
It's close to midnight again. I can't not look any longer, the suspense: will she answer? Have I spooked a faker into running off to find someone more easy to trick? I need to check my account.
"Oh." She's messaged. "Shit."
'Con.
You should. Yes.
I can book a hotel someplace halfway between us, neutral territory as it were lol
How does Saturday sound?
(If spending the night together is too much, too soon, I totally get it. Please, don't run, just tell me and we can figure it out.)
Sam xx'
"Saturday." I breathe, my voice a whisper. "Six days. Shit." I read her message again, there's something real about those last words, enclosed by brackets. It could all, still, be part of some big trick. I could still be on my way to meet some fat fifty year-old guy named Bill. Or someone married. But. "I am going." Nodding. The decision in truth made some time ago. I'm in this to the end now.
"I." Smiling, typing. "I want to see what's behind the curtain."
'Sam.
Book the hotel. Saturday. I'll be there, what, around two?
Super nervous lol, but, I promise to show.
Might just be you'll need to lash me to the bed overnight, stop me running lol
Con xx'
I go to bed, failing to sleep well due to nerves. And college drags, every lecture feeling like a whole day long.
Finally home, I bring my laptop into the kitchen, and begin to cook for Mum and me.
There's a message.
'Con.
Booked (I've attached a screenshot of the confirmation)
See you Saturday wink lol
Honestly, I'm super nervous too, still something of a newbie at all this ropes and helplessness. Maybe you'll have to lash me to the bed? lol
Guess we can discuss who ties who on Saturday?
Two sounds great. There's a bar and restaurant on the ground floor, shall we meet there?
Sam xx'
"Okay." Nodding, typing. "Okay."
'Sam.
Two, at the bar. I'll be the dark skinned girl with black hair, looking nervously at the exit every half second or so lol
Seriously though.
I.
Can't.
Wait.
Thank you, for being richer then me, to sort out the hotel. Might have to let you tie me first just by way of thanks lol
Six days though? Damn it. Can't it already be Friday?
Con xx'
And the week does drag. College drags. Work- good of them to give me Saturday off at short notice -drags. Even seeing Lara on Friday drags.
And then it's, finally, Saturday.
I don't have to explain myself to Mum, not now I'm eighteen, but I like to share my life with her. Some of it anyway. I spin some half truth tale, some band I'm desperate to see. She trusts me enough not to check my story out, which is just as well. Lara read me the be safe riot act again last night. Refusing to shut up until we, giggling as we did, because it is funny, agreed on a couple of code words I could send her, if I'm in trouble. She knows where the hotel is, and, unlike me Lara can actually drive.
So. I guess if it does all go wrong, I can call for backup.
Except for that part of me that still, and I shouldn't but I can't help it, almost wishes for something to happen. I'm not sure I would call Lara.
I pack a change of tops, sexy lingerie, all of my ropes and toys, everything into my blue messenger bag. Then I get dressed.
Tight blue jeans, faded and ripped up both legs in the current style. No huge tears, more like a scattered ladder pattern up the front. On my feet I wear black chunky goth boots, knee high and lace up, they add a couple of inches to my height. A black tee hugs my D cups, showing no cleavage but still showing everything by way of curves. It's an Iron Maiden tee, with a suitably horror style design stretched across my breasts. I make sure to wear my favourite white thong and bra, liking how they contrast with my dark skin, liking how small the thong is, how well the bra shapes my breasts.
Over the top, because it isn't a sunny day, I wear my dark red zip front hoodie.
The train is on time, and, feeling too nervous to think about taxi's, I spend twenty minutes walking through the centre of this town I've never visited, out the other side, to the hotel.
Walking through the doors, ten minutes to two. I send Lara a quick message.
'Arrived. Nervous.'
Then, smiling at the young man on reception, I peel right, towards the restaurant and bar.
Which is nearly deserted. No sign of green hair, yet. I order and pay for a drink, a pint of some beer or other, which I don't really feel up to doing more then sipping, but at least it'll help pass the time. I find a booth side on to the entrance, sitting with hoodie off, it and my bag on the seat beside me. I am- a quick check around to make sure -not only obviously the only black girl here, but am visible from reception too.
I wait, trying not to look to my left, towards the door.
What happens? Someone shows up, but, who?
A- She's real, the girl from the photo appears.
B- Not real. A young girl shows up, flat chested but with green hair. A super skinny pale skinned goth gamer girl.
C- Not real. A young girl shows up, very large, larger then Lara and very busty. With green hair. A chubby pale skinned goth gamer girl.
A glass, orange juice but I doubt that's all it is, is placed next to my half drunk pint.
Faded black jeans, a skinny fit hugging skinny legs, appears in my lowered vision. Lowered because in order to not look at the door I'd mostly been staring at the table.
Someone sits down across from me. I shift my head. But.
"No." A girls voice, quiet, panicked. "Please. Don't look up. Let me talk first?" I smile, at the question, at the plea. I wasn't really expecting the off duty porn star to show, and it appears she hasn't. But at least someone has.
At least it's a girl.
"Sure." Keeping my gaze down. "Sam, is it?"
"Yes."
"Well. Okay then. Sam. Talk."
"Um. You see." Pausing. A long pause. "Shit. You know. Anything I say is just going to sound wrong. Or like I'm trying to justify a lie with a sob story. And. Well. I'm me. Sam. Not the Sam I showed you, but. Well. I do have reasons."
"And I'll bet they're real good ones too." Which comes out like teasing, playful. I hadn't meant it to sound mad, because mostly I'm not. Yes the fake tits were amazing. Yes I really wanted to play with porn star Sam. But. Maybe whatever Sam I'm actually sat across from is okay too?
Who knows, she could still have an amazing rack.
"Well." A small laugh. "I could've probably made up some better ones."
"Something to do with aliens maybe?" Still teasing. I've come here to play, and so my mindset is still locked on play. Yes she lied, but, I'm not mad.
Life's too short to get mad and scream at the world for every small thing.
"Still though," I smile, "why don't you tell me some good news?"
"Good news huh?"
"Yes." Still not looking up, I have some beer. "Tell me why all of this," gesturing around me, "whatever lies you've told. Why is it still a good thing that I came?"
"Okay." Sipping her own drink. "Let me see."
"There really is a room booked, for us."
"And." Reaching into my bag, tossing a coiled rope onto the table. "Would the room happen to contain anything like that?"
"Oh yes." A skinny heavily tattooed forearm reaches out, pale white skin visible around the ink. Strokes my rope. "I can promise you I've bought along plenty of rope to keep this little guy company."
"Hoping to kidnap me were you?"
"Actually I'd thought to offer myself up."
"Yeah?" Her tone was half playful, half serious. "You surrendering then?" I grin. "On what terms?"
"No terms." Her other arm, not a single piece of ink, joins the first, both now laid across the table towards me, her crossed wrists right inside my personal space. "Do your worst and punish me for all my evil trickery."
Which has me jerking my head up in equal parts surprise and arousal. The idea of having free reign over this girl I hardly know is super appealing.
Skinny. Really skinny. Like a starved size six, but healthy too if such a contradiction were possible. Faded and skintight black jeans, and I can see black chunky goth boots to match my own under the table. A slash of bare stomach and then a white vans tee, worn tight over braless A cup breasts. I can clearly see both nipples, the rings piercing them.
Her hair is green, bright and vivid, long and curling.
And she has tattoo's everywhere. A whole sleeve on her left arm, multicoloured anime, schoolgirls with samurai swords and huge tits. The four fingers of her left hand have the PlayStation controller symbols, one on each. On that slash of stomach are tentacles, of a sort, a hint at something larger climbing from her left leg, something around her pussy aside from the hot pink thong I can see the tops of.
"So you," I think as she sits across from me, smiling, wrists still laid down invitingly, close to my rope, "are into this then?"
"Oh yes." Nodding. "I really am sorry I lied. It's." A grimace, a shrug. "Anyway. Aside from the photo it was. Is. All me. I'm definitely into this."
"So you want to play?" A small tingle begins somewhere deep down. "With me?"
"I would love to play." Blowing me a kiss. "With you."
"And." Tingle growing. "Does it have to be you surrendering?"
"Course not." A shrug, removing her hands from the table. "I'm happy whatever happens here."
"Okay." Nodding. "Good."
What does happen?
A- Sam ties and gags Con, they go to the room.
B- Con ties and gags Sam, they go to the room.
C- There's a third girl, who happened to overhear everything. She offers/demands various things, managing to tie and gag both girls, taking them to the room.
D- Somehow it all doesn't happen, Con goes home.
Looking around, there's maybe one couple in the far corner, plus a businessman, complete with suit and briefcase, propping up the bar.
Nobody close by, and, well, even if someone does see. Fuck it, right? I'm, Sam too, we're both adults.
Let them look.
"Room key." I hold out a hand. Sam gives me a nervous smile, prehaps not missing my semi take charge tone, pulling a white credit card key from her jeans front pocket, placing it in my open palm. "Good." Nodding, slipping the key into my own jeans pocket. "Now." Slapping a ballgag onto the table. "Put this on."
"Can I ask?" Fingering the gag, rolling the red rubber ball left and right across the table. "Yes." I smile. "You may."
"I just wondered at the plan, is all?"
"I'm taking you back to our room," pushing the ballgag with one finger, rolling it towards her, "to do my worst and punish you."
"You." Swallowing, sounding nervous but her eyes are dancing. She's smiling. "Are?"
"Yes. Now." Flicking the gag. "Gag. On."
"Tighter."
"Mmmffppffmmm." But she complies. Reaching behind her head, unfastening the leather straps, yanking another couple of holes through the buckle, sealing it back up. The large red ball fills her small pretty mouth, whilst the straps are very clearly digging in at the sides. "Good." I toss a small silver padlock across the table. "Now lock it on."
All I've done is gag her, but, even that small flexing of power, Sam doing as I command, is giving me tingles.
Still we're being paid no attention, or none that's obvious, so, coming around to Sam's side of the booth, sitting down beside her, I use a short length of rope to bind her wrists behind her.
She even, Good little submissive that she's proving to be, offers them up without any more of a prompt then my pulling out the rope.
I bind them side by side, as tight as I know how, using the same doubled up rope method I watched Lara do on my breasts. Yanking the final knots, enjoying Sam's moans, I back off and shuffle out of the booth. Standing up.
"Now." Waiting for Sam to join me. "Show me to our room."
"Mmmfpf." Nodding, Sam sets off walking. I grab my bag, and follow.
Down corridors, through a luckily deserted reception, to the lift. Inside, Sam just about manages to push the third floor button, and with a ping we ascend up to the top floor.
More corridors, still nobody aside from two open doors, through which I spy cleaners making up rooms as we pass. Neither one looks up.
"This one?"
"Fffmm mffpmm." Nodding, we're stood in front of room three oh twenty. "Okay." I nod, inserting the key, which makes a red light on the panel turn green, makes the door click. "Right." Pushing the door. "After you."
What happens?
A- Another girl has snuck up behind, she pushes Con into the room, binding and gagging her too.
B- Con strips Sam, binding her into a hogtie.
C- Con unties Sam, tells her to strip. Sam takes the opportunity to turn the tables, binding Con into a hogtie.
D- Con ties Sam in the bath, abandons her there.
E- Con has Sam tied to the bed when there's a knock at the door.
)
