My finger traced a rough circle around the lip of a paper cup, my eyes listing between the weak, watery brown of Days Inn’s free-est coffee and the itinerary sent by my publisher the night before.
I have nothing at all against small towns (a proud product of one). It turns out that I do, however, have quite a lot against floating village to village each day for months on end in the name of “increasing anticipation” for a novel that (unbeknownst to my editor) hasn’t been written.
I woke up today almost certain I was somewhere in the great state Alabama. Next to today’s date, the heading of the itinerary read “Simon Cusk: Reading in Merrydale, Lousisana.”
Pushing in my chair, tossing the unfinished coffee into the trash, I made my way from the lobby toward the glass doors of the hotel, reading through the predictable list of “events” that awaited me in Merrydale. Reaching my rental car, I began searching for the address of the bookstore I was scheduled to read at. Even though my first two novels, both admittedly cheap thrillers, had done quite well, even cracking the New York Times Best Sellers List, the luster of both of the books has long since faded. I began imagining the four or five retired souls I would be reading to for the next hour, starting to believe it would be less damaging to my name to just call in sick.
I felt my hand subconsciously sliding toward my phone to make the call when my eyes tripped over a detail I had never seen on any of my prior itineraries for the past few months:
“After Reading: Dinner at Moose Lodge with new assistant, Emily Clay.”
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Nearly everything about the reading itself was astonishingly unremarkable. Things that were worth remembering were almost entirely negative: the pool of drool forming on a sleeping audience member’s shirt, the fluorescent lights flickering nearly enough to read in Morse Code. I even mispronounced my own name out of disinterest in myself.
Still, I will always remember one thing about that awful little reading — the young woman, around 25 or so, sitting in the front row. Her was light brown, nearly auburn, and fell neatly to her shoulders. She had green eyes and freckles distinguishable from twenty feet away. In black, ripped jeans, her one long leg folded over her knee. In a woven cream-colored sweater, she sat back upright, politely in her chair—her chest, I admit to staring at from my lectern, pushed hard and far out from her sweater, casting a shadow on her lap. She was beautiful. Her skin seemed cool and soft in the harsh light.
What I will remember most, though, is that she was smiling, kindly, patiently, throughout the whole reading, like she truly cared about the words I was once proud to have written. Toward the end, I even began to believe I recognized her.
After the reading, she walked briskly up to me as I made my way toward the exit.
“I think we have a dinner date tonight Mr. Cusk.”
— — — — — — — — — —
“I’m really grateful for the opportunity Mr. Cusk,” Emily reached out a plastic wine glass to toast. “I am so excited to be able to spend time getting to know you. I really am a huge fan of yours.”
She seemed completely sincere, which is by no means a common occurrence when people say things like this to me.
“I have to admit I even remember the first time I saw you — do you remember teaching a class called “Thriller Lit” at LSU?”
I did recognize her. I never spoke to her — the class was over 150 students and she worked with one of my teaching assistants, but I did recognize her.
“I remember you,” I said. “You sat near the front a lot. I’m embarrassed you had to take that class. Not my best work.”
“I thought it was great,” she reassured me. “You made the pieces we studied seem so possible, like all of these harrowing things could happen to real people.”
I nearly lost my breath.
“I really, really appreciate that Emily.”
“Do you remember that scene we studied with woman that was held in a hotel room for 48 hours? She was tied up and alone and had to find a way out? Hooping and rolling and sweating all over the place?”
I had completely forgotten I included that piece. It was, in no way, appropriate for the class, but I remember being heavily into stories involving bondage at the time, and I guess I indulged myself.
“Oh no…I made you all read that? I would not put that on the syllabus if I were to do it over.”
“I’m glad you left it in — that story made me start writing. It’s actually that particular day in class that led me to apply for this position with the publisher…”
Emily looked around the room, the corner of her lip quivering slightly.
“I think I’m about finished. Are you staying at the Days Inn too? I figured, since it’s the only motel in town. Should we head back and go over what you’d like me to do as your assistant? The publisher gave me a list of duties, but, honestly, I was hoping you had some more exciting ideas.”
We paid our bill and rode back to the motel together.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
Clinking her glass of Jack Daniels into mine, Emily laughed and put her hand on my arm. We sat across from each other at the crummy motel desk in the corner of my room. Her voice was surprisingly low, but inviting and smooth enough to make my cheeks flush when she spoke. After drinking and sharing terrible stories from our brief overlap at LSU, we both were notably losing our progressively thinning boundaries. Emily steadied herself in her chair, quieting suddenly and smiling.
“Mr. Cusk?”
“You’re how old now? Call me Simon.”
“I’m 26. Well then, Simon. I hope this doesn’t get me fired, but when I got this job and began packing to meet you here, I did something really dumb.”
“Go on…”
Her face began to turn red.
“Okay. Fine. I was packed and ready to drive down here to meet you and I remembered that day in class we talked about at dinner and that woman in that hotel room and the way you talked about her and went back inside my house and…ugh I can’t say it. Stay here.”
Emily bolted out of her chair and out of the room and into the hallway. A few moments later she came back with a small suitcase. She threw it toward me in embarrassment.
“Just look.”
Unzipping the bag, my heart dropped into my stomach. The bag was filled with roll after roll of different colored duct tape.
“Emily…is everything alright?”
“I want to study that story some more. The woman in the hotel. We’re in a hotel now aren’t we? I fully planned to just keep the bag in my room this whole time…but I’m drunk and so are you. I thought that maybe you could use this on me.”
— — — — — — — — — — — —
Emily hopped across the dirty motel room, trying with each landing not to fall over. A dark green roll of tape had been applied to her whole body, over a set of black underwear and a DD bra that tried and failed to hold her breasts in place.
Her wrists, taped tightly behind her back, groped at the air for balance as she continued jumping from spot to spot along the wall. The tape around her ankles and above and below her knees made it impossible to shift in place. As she tipped over, she had to keep hopping to avoid falling. Her breasts heaving each time.
“Hhhmmmmmmppphh!” she yelped nearly losing her balance. Green tape had encircled her head, covering her mouth and making her cheeks bulge over top. Laughing into her gag, she glared at me as I cheered her on.
“I’m starting to think you might just live in this shitty motel room now Emily.”
“Hmmmph!l She furrowed her eyebrows and began hopping toward me.
“I’d slow down if I were you,” I said, half concerned she’d fall over, half wanting to watch her hop my way for as long as humanly possible.
“Hmmph hmmph” she grunted, shaking her head.”
She neared closer, laughing and starting to sweat.
HHMMMMMMMMPPPHHH!” She cried, overshooting her final hop and starting to tumble over. I jumped forward, catching her before her face hit the ground. I picked her up in my arms, holding her off the ground, her face right in front of mine.
“What do you say?” I said, smiling sarcastically.
“Hmannk Hhoo” she muttered into her gag, rolling her eyes.
“Now for my reward!” I said, Lacking subtlety of any kind at this point, no thanks to the whiskey. “What do I get for saving you?”
I wanted to hear her answer, so I pulled the tape down from around her mouth.
“Uggh. Owww. Fine. Thank you, Simon.” She rolled her eyes again. “Don’t you think it’s time we go to bed — too many near-death experiences.”
Worried I had taken things over the line, I stood her back up, beginning to take the tape off her wrists.
“Wait — stop. I didn’t say do that.” She looked up at me, her hands still taped behind her back, her breasts pressing into my torso, her eyes green and looking up at me over a wide, wide smile. “I said I’m going to bed. Like this. Then your reward comes in the morning.”
Book Tour — New Assistant (M/F, M/FF) Part Thirteen Added
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TapeTurtle
- Forum Contributer
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- Location: East Coast, U.S.
Book Tour — New Assistant (M/F, M/FF) Part Thirteen Added
Last edited by TapeTurtle 11 months ago, edited 15 times in total.
a delightful fun playful story, I do hope you continue it. One word: spellcheck
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tickletied84
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 490
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Scotland
Interesting start - very enjoyable read so far - looking forward to where it goes next!
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TapeTurtle
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 70
- Joined: 1 year ago
- Location: East Coast, U.S.
Part Two:
Light from the window clanged like metal against my head. Before fully opening my eyes I knew I had overdone the whiskey the night before. Based on the sound that came from beside me on the motel bed, I could tell I wasn’t the only one.
“Hmpphh.” Emily groaned as she started pulling against her taped wrists and legs. Her face was pale and covered in sweat. Strands of hair stuck messily to her cheeks and caught the edges of the tape strips sealing her mouth. I lifted the comforter up, sensing she was getting hot. I couldn’t help but notice one of her breasts had come completely free of her bra, lying heavy and bare on the sheets as she rolled on her side to face me. Her eyes, a light green that complimented the dark tape on her lips perfectly, seemed less playful than the night before, and in their exhaustion appeared to ask me for something. My eyes drifted toward her exposed breast, knowing that I could, if I wanted, reach and wrap my hand around it, feeling its size and smoothness swallow my palm and fingers. Half asleep, I remembered the word “reward” from the previous night.
Almost as if anticipating my reaching toward her, Emily began inching toward me. Her back arched as she stuck her chest out for me to fondle. Before my hand could reach her, however, something changed. She backed away, rolling back around and putting her back to me, wriggling her hands in the green tape. Up to this point, I hadn’t noticed how impressive her backside was, round and tapered into her waist, almost as eye-catching as her chest.
“Hmmmmmmmph” she said, reaching out her hands to me. Disappointed, and suddenly terribly embarrassed, I knew what she wanted now. I reached over her shoulder and peeled the tape from her mouth.
“Thank you. Could you undo my hands? They’re totally asleep. We should shower and get going soon. You have to be in Baton Rouge by 11.”
I felt a wave of guilt wreck my chest as I began undoing the tape around her hands, letting her untie her own legs. Emily, now free, quickly dressed and began toward the door. “I need to shower and change. Meet you in the lobby in 30?”
“Sounds good.” My stomach sank as she walked out the door and into the hall.
— — — — — — — — — — —
After an hour of driving, the silence between Emily and me was broken only occasionally by empty small talk. I tried focusing on the road, and not the myriad mistakes I know I had just made. Worried I had made this sweet young woman feel used and unsafe around me. Emily looked out the window for most of the drive. She was wearing a light blue blouse that fell softly around her chest.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said, unable to handle the quiet any longer. “I feel like what I did last night was unprofessional and inappropriate and completely unfair to you. I never should have brought you back to my room. That is textbook shitty boss behavior. It won’t happen again, and I’d love to continue working with you in a completely professional capacity, but I completely understand if you’d like to move on to a new job. You’ll have a great recommendation from me.”
Emily let all the air out of her chest, and was quiet for a few moments.
“Mr. Cusk, I feel like I need to be the one apologizing. I over shared and, honestly, led you on to talk about doing what we did. It was my suitcase anyway. I feel like it’s impossible for you to think I’m anything other than an immature school child who is just a fan of yours. But I promise I am a professional, and can show you if you’d be willing to keep me.”
I took in everything she said. “So we both feel bad, huh. How about we just start over then, yes?”
“I’d really like that.”
“Great. My names Simon,” I said, grinning, extending my hand across the car cabin for a handshake.
“Nice to meet you. My name is Hannah.”
“Hannah?”
“I’m joking,” she said, smirking and looking back out the window.
We continued on talking about the work, about the slog of a book tour and whatever the hell the publisher was hoping to get out of this one. I told her how I haven’t been able to write in months, and am several thousand words behind on the novel I had promised my editor. Listening intently, I could tell by the questions she asked that she was incredibly sharp, offering structures and prompts that she’s heard of helping other authors she’s worked with. I felt comforted by this. It was the first time I had admitted to being stuck to anyone, and she seemed to be excited at the chance to help me figure out a way around it. We settled in to the last thirty minutes of the drive, quieting down and daydreaming independently.
“What about last night?” She asked suddenly. “What if you wrote about last night? You could describe what we did as if were part of a larger novel and work your way out from there.”
I don’t know why, but something cracked in my chest, and I began breathing easier.
“You might be right,” I answered. “I feel like it’s the first time in months I have a scene in my head I could actually put to paper.”
“So you’re saying that what we did helped? It made you want to write?”
“I think it might have”
Emily sat quietly for a few moments as we approached the parking lot of the next bookstore I was due to read at.
“That’s my job then. As your assistant. We can do that whenever you want and then can work on your next book together. I had fun, and was just embarrassed earlier. I’d really like to help.”
She took a short breath, catching herself. “I’m sorry. I’m being unprofessional again. Sorry.”
I put the car in park, looking over at Emily, her face flush and her eyes down.
“I’d actually really like that,” I said.
“Really?! Okay great! So you go finish this reading and we’ll head back to our next motel.”
“Sounds amazing. Thank you, Emily, really.”
“Anything you need Simon.”
I opened the door and began exiting the car.
“There’s just two things you need to think about while you’re in there, then,” said Emily quickly, smiling.
“What’s that?”
“What color tape do you want to use, and what do you want me to wear?” She paused and bit her lip, smiling shyly, her green eyes leaning into mine. “…or what you want me not to wear. I have to start thinking about your reward.”
Light from the window clanged like metal against my head. Before fully opening my eyes I knew I had overdone the whiskey the night before. Based on the sound that came from beside me on the motel bed, I could tell I wasn’t the only one.
“Hmpphh.” Emily groaned as she started pulling against her taped wrists and legs. Her face was pale and covered in sweat. Strands of hair stuck messily to her cheeks and caught the edges of the tape strips sealing her mouth. I lifted the comforter up, sensing she was getting hot. I couldn’t help but notice one of her breasts had come completely free of her bra, lying heavy and bare on the sheets as she rolled on her side to face me. Her eyes, a light green that complimented the dark tape on her lips perfectly, seemed less playful than the night before, and in their exhaustion appeared to ask me for something. My eyes drifted toward her exposed breast, knowing that I could, if I wanted, reach and wrap my hand around it, feeling its size and smoothness swallow my palm and fingers. Half asleep, I remembered the word “reward” from the previous night.
Almost as if anticipating my reaching toward her, Emily began inching toward me. Her back arched as she stuck her chest out for me to fondle. Before my hand could reach her, however, something changed. She backed away, rolling back around and putting her back to me, wriggling her hands in the green tape. Up to this point, I hadn’t noticed how impressive her backside was, round and tapered into her waist, almost as eye-catching as her chest.
“Hmmmmmmmph” she said, reaching out her hands to me. Disappointed, and suddenly terribly embarrassed, I knew what she wanted now. I reached over her shoulder and peeled the tape from her mouth.
“Thank you. Could you undo my hands? They’re totally asleep. We should shower and get going soon. You have to be in Baton Rouge by 11.”
I felt a wave of guilt wreck my chest as I began undoing the tape around her hands, letting her untie her own legs. Emily, now free, quickly dressed and began toward the door. “I need to shower and change. Meet you in the lobby in 30?”
“Sounds good.” My stomach sank as she walked out the door and into the hall.
— — — — — — — — — — —
After an hour of driving, the silence between Emily and me was broken only occasionally by empty small talk. I tried focusing on the road, and not the myriad mistakes I know I had just made. Worried I had made this sweet young woman feel used and unsafe around me. Emily looked out the window for most of the drive. She was wearing a light blue blouse that fell softly around her chest.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said, unable to handle the quiet any longer. “I feel like what I did last night was unprofessional and inappropriate and completely unfair to you. I never should have brought you back to my room. That is textbook shitty boss behavior. It won’t happen again, and I’d love to continue working with you in a completely professional capacity, but I completely understand if you’d like to move on to a new job. You’ll have a great recommendation from me.”
Emily let all the air out of her chest, and was quiet for a few moments.
“Mr. Cusk, I feel like I need to be the one apologizing. I over shared and, honestly, led you on to talk about doing what we did. It was my suitcase anyway. I feel like it’s impossible for you to think I’m anything other than an immature school child who is just a fan of yours. But I promise I am a professional, and can show you if you’d be willing to keep me.”
I took in everything she said. “So we both feel bad, huh. How about we just start over then, yes?”
“I’d really like that.”
“Great. My names Simon,” I said, grinning, extending my hand across the car cabin for a handshake.
“Nice to meet you. My name is Hannah.”
“Hannah?”
“I’m joking,” she said, smirking and looking back out the window.
We continued on talking about the work, about the slog of a book tour and whatever the hell the publisher was hoping to get out of this one. I told her how I haven’t been able to write in months, and am several thousand words behind on the novel I had promised my editor. Listening intently, I could tell by the questions she asked that she was incredibly sharp, offering structures and prompts that she’s heard of helping other authors she’s worked with. I felt comforted by this. It was the first time I had admitted to being stuck to anyone, and she seemed to be excited at the chance to help me figure out a way around it. We settled in to the last thirty minutes of the drive, quieting down and daydreaming independently.
“What about last night?” She asked suddenly. “What if you wrote about last night? You could describe what we did as if were part of a larger novel and work your way out from there.”
I don’t know why, but something cracked in my chest, and I began breathing easier.
“You might be right,” I answered. “I feel like it’s the first time in months I have a scene in my head I could actually put to paper.”
“So you’re saying that what we did helped? It made you want to write?”
“I think it might have”
Emily sat quietly for a few moments as we approached the parking lot of the next bookstore I was due to read at.
“That’s my job then. As your assistant. We can do that whenever you want and then can work on your next book together. I had fun, and was just embarrassed earlier. I’d really like to help.”
She took a short breath, catching herself. “I’m sorry. I’m being unprofessional again. Sorry.”
I put the car in park, looking over at Emily, her face flush and her eyes down.
“I’d actually really like that,” I said.
“Really?! Okay great! So you go finish this reading and we’ll head back to our next motel.”
“Sounds amazing. Thank you, Emily, really.”
“Anything you need Simon.”
I opened the door and began exiting the car.
“There’s just two things you need to think about while you’re in there, then,” said Emily quickly, smiling.
“What’s that?”
“What color tape do you want to use, and what do you want me to wear?” She paused and bit her lip, smiling shyly, her green eyes leaning into mine. “…or what you want me not to wear. I have to start thinking about your reward.”
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TapeTurtle
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 70
- Joined: 1 year ago
- Location: East Coast, U.S.
Part Three:
This was the first reading in years that seemed to fly by. I tried focusing on the pages in front of me, and in the questions posed by each of the 11 audience members in attendance, but my mind and my eyes could not stop drifting toward the side of the bookstore, where Emily was setting up a table full of books for me to sign. She was incredibly organized and efficient, organizing the stack of dusty in a much more visually appealing way than I would. She stood about 5’7,” her jeans tight and showing off both of her long, strong legs.
I would read a line or two of my book, look up, and imagine how different colors of tape might look over her mouth, under her eyes, around her wrists and ankles. I pictured her hopping around the bookstore in her underwear again, wanting her to keep upright, but also wanting her to fall on top of me. I looked down, relieved to see the podium in front of me was wide, blocking the front of my jeans.
Emily packed up the table and books in minutes as I shook hands and said thank you’s to the store owners. I felt pulled toward the car by something invisible around my waist. Rushing out through the front door, I made a bee line for the car, Emily not far behind me.
“You were great,” she said. “I always love hearing that section you read.” I could tell she was telling the truth.
“Thank you dear,” I replied.
“So. I think we have a Super 8 near by reserved for us. Here’s the address. I already called and verified so I could arrange—never mind. Did you think about my questions?”
“I did.”
“And…?”
I hesitated for a moment.
“Purple,” I said. “Purple tape.”
“That’s my favorite color.” She grinned earnestly. “And what about the second question? What should I be wearing?”
“I honestly don’t know — whatever you’re comfortable in?”
“It’s hard for me to get uncomfortable, Simon. Think about it. How did I look last night?”
I didn’t know how to answer that without sounding perverted.
“You looked incredible, really pretty,” was all I could come up with.
“So how about something similar? How about you just think about it and tell me when we get there.”
— — — — — — — — — —
The room at this motel was slightly nicer than the Days Inn in Merrydale, the lighting less fluorescent and the carpet clean. What was notably different was there were two beds in this room, instead of one.
“I hope it’s okay but I put us in here together — it saves some money and makes things a little simpler, I think.”
She threw her luggage onto one of the two beds before turning to me, placing her hands on her hips.
“So. What am I pulling out of my clothes suitcase? I can’t believe I have to clarify which suitcase has clothes in it…”
“I really don’t know. Last night was great. How about you pick?”
“You know, it’s not a crime for men to have opinions on women’s clothing. But fine. You liked last night. I can work with that. And purple tape. You go get some coffee or something and come back in ten minutes.”
I didn’t get coffee. Or something. I stood by the elevator pretending to be waiting for it. Really I just counted down the minutes in my head. One minute early, my phone went off. It was a text from Emily, asking me to come back.
I rushed back to the room, fumbling with my key and ripping the door open. My entire body went numb.
There in the middle of the room, with her hands on her hips, was Emily. She was wearing a pink, shoe string bikini that was clearly too small up top. Her incredibly chest spilled out of it, and looked in danger of bursting the strings. Shocked, I took a moment to look her over, before meeting her eyes. Her hair looked more red in this light, and was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. She did this, it seemed, to keep it away from the purple tape. Which was wrapped incredibly tightly around her mouth and head.
“Hmmmph,” she said softly, holding up her phone. My own phone went off again. Another text from the woman standing gagged and half-naked in front of me.
“2 hours. You have permission to do anything you want. I’ll blink my eyes three times if I want to stop. The tape is on the dresser.”
Then another text: “This new book of yours better be amazing.”
I walked toward Emily, grabbing the tape off the dresser. She turned around, placing her hands behind her back.
P
This was the first reading in years that seemed to fly by. I tried focusing on the pages in front of me, and in the questions posed by each of the 11 audience members in attendance, but my mind and my eyes could not stop drifting toward the side of the bookstore, where Emily was setting up a table full of books for me to sign. She was incredibly organized and efficient, organizing the stack of dusty in a much more visually appealing way than I would. She stood about 5’7,” her jeans tight and showing off both of her long, strong legs.
I would read a line or two of my book, look up, and imagine how different colors of tape might look over her mouth, under her eyes, around her wrists and ankles. I pictured her hopping around the bookstore in her underwear again, wanting her to keep upright, but also wanting her to fall on top of me. I looked down, relieved to see the podium in front of me was wide, blocking the front of my jeans.
Emily packed up the table and books in minutes as I shook hands and said thank you’s to the store owners. I felt pulled toward the car by something invisible around my waist. Rushing out through the front door, I made a bee line for the car, Emily not far behind me.
“You were great,” she said. “I always love hearing that section you read.” I could tell she was telling the truth.
“Thank you dear,” I replied.
“So. I think we have a Super 8 near by reserved for us. Here’s the address. I already called and verified so I could arrange—never mind. Did you think about my questions?”
“I did.”
“And…?”
I hesitated for a moment.
“Purple,” I said. “Purple tape.”
“That’s my favorite color.” She grinned earnestly. “And what about the second question? What should I be wearing?”
“I honestly don’t know — whatever you’re comfortable in?”
“It’s hard for me to get uncomfortable, Simon. Think about it. How did I look last night?”
I didn’t know how to answer that without sounding perverted.
“You looked incredible, really pretty,” was all I could come up with.
“So how about something similar? How about you just think about it and tell me when we get there.”
— — — — — — — — — —
The room at this motel was slightly nicer than the Days Inn in Merrydale, the lighting less fluorescent and the carpet clean. What was notably different was there were two beds in this room, instead of one.
“I hope it’s okay but I put us in here together — it saves some money and makes things a little simpler, I think.”
She threw her luggage onto one of the two beds before turning to me, placing her hands on her hips.
“So. What am I pulling out of my clothes suitcase? I can’t believe I have to clarify which suitcase has clothes in it…”
“I really don’t know. Last night was great. How about you pick?”
“You know, it’s not a crime for men to have opinions on women’s clothing. But fine. You liked last night. I can work with that. And purple tape. You go get some coffee or something and come back in ten minutes.”
I didn’t get coffee. Or something. I stood by the elevator pretending to be waiting for it. Really I just counted down the minutes in my head. One minute early, my phone went off. It was a text from Emily, asking me to come back.
I rushed back to the room, fumbling with my key and ripping the door open. My entire body went numb.
There in the middle of the room, with her hands on her hips, was Emily. She was wearing a pink, shoe string bikini that was clearly too small up top. Her incredibly chest spilled out of it, and looked in danger of bursting the strings. Shocked, I took a moment to look her over, before meeting her eyes. Her hair looked more red in this light, and was pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. She did this, it seemed, to keep it away from the purple tape. Which was wrapped incredibly tightly around her mouth and head.
“Hmmmph,” she said softly, holding up her phone. My own phone went off again. Another text from the woman standing gagged and half-naked in front of me.
“2 hours. You have permission to do anything you want. I’ll blink my eyes three times if I want to stop. The tape is on the dresser.”
Then another text: “This new book of yours better be amazing.”
I walked toward Emily, grabbing the tape off the dresser. She turned around, placing her hands behind her back.
P
Last edited by TapeTurtle 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
I really enjoyed the first few chapters, you're got a nice style of writing that's easy to read. The premise is really interesting too, and the playful, if initially awkward, dynamic between Simon and Emily is a lot fun
Male switch from the UK here, always up for a chat about anything TUGs related!
My stories
Causality (F/M) - https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=9909
A Grey Area (M/F) - https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=12604
My stories
Causality (F/M) - https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=9909
A Grey Area (M/F) - https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=12604
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gaggedrock29
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 119
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: St Louis Mo area
Who couldn't use such a hands on assistant like that?
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TicklishSwitch
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 21
- Joined: 1 year ago
great writing and chapters, love consensual playful M/F bondage games, maybe a little rope at some time in the future.
This is a great story. I like that there's an original setup and the careful development of the characters.
Can’t believe I only just found this tale, and it’s great, like the interaction and how the characters just work so well, but I too have to ask for some rope to make its appearance, maybe following a stop before or after the next book reading,
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TapeTurtle
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 70
- Joined: 1 year ago
- Location: East Coast, U.S.
Part Four:
“Turn around — let’s see how I did.”
Emily hopped in place a few times as she turned to face me, her pink bikini top fighting for its life.
“Mmmmph?” she grunted, wriggling a little, as if to say, “what do you think?”
Placing my hands on the outsides of her shoulders, I looked her up and down. Purple tape was wrapped around her ankles, knees, and strong, muscled thighs. From the front, you could see tape circling her waist, pinning the wrists taped behind her to her torso. Several layers were also applied beneath her chest, strapping in place her arms, pressing tightly into her skin and making her breasts protrude just a little more. Grabbing her shoulders tighter, I decided it was time for some fun. I began spinning Emily in place, teasing that I needed a more thorough look.
“MMMMMMMPH!” Emily yelped as her hopping struggled to keep pace with her forcibly turning body. As her breasts bounced a few inches in front of me, I could tell it was only a matter of time before that bikini gave way. I stopped, giving her a chance to catch her breath.
“So what now? Did I do a good job?”
“Mmmmhmmmm!” Emily said, nodding enthusiastically. I could tell she was enjoying how ridiculous this situation was, playing up her excitement to an almost unbelievable degree.
“Think you can get out of it?”
“HMMM HMMM” she boasted, nodding her head cooly, almost unimpressed by the question.
“Well then, have at it!” In one swoop, I grabbed her shoulders again, shoving her toward one of the beds. After a few discombobulated hops, Emily crashed down onto the bed, laughing hysterically into her gag. She began pulling and twisting at the tape holding her hands firmly in place behind her back, rolling and shaking over the bed to get leverage. No luck. The tape held, twisting and sticking to itself, becoming even harder to slip out of.
“HHHHHMMMMPPPH!” She grunted, feigning anger and frustration toward me as she continued working. She became focused, methodical in her approach, testing the corners her binds with each finger.
“I don’t know about this.” I said, grinning.
“Hmmmph?” Emily rolled back around, sitting up on the bed to look at me. She slouched forward, making her massive chest hang freely below her. Her struggling had wrinkled her top, making it cover even less of her than before.
“This doesn’t seem real enough. I think you have a gear you haven’t tapped into yet. You should fight like your life depended on it, like in that story from class. How about this: if you can’t get out in five minutes I’m going to start tickling you.”
“HMMMPH HMMMMMMMPH!” Emily screamed into the tape pressed over her lips, flipping back onto the bed, kicking her legs hard now, jerking her shoulders and arms against her restrains. She was grunting now with each pull, putting her full effort into escaping. Sweat soon covered her whole body, making her skin glisten in the dusty sunlight seeping through the window. I could see her muscles flexing as she kept working, and I was impressed. Clearly, Emily was someone who worked out, and was incredibly strong for her size. I almost became impressed at my own taping job, neglecting how unfair of a competition this was from the start.
“Times up!” I said, sitting down next to Emily. She sat up again, covered in sweat, her hair now loose and disheveled from the bun. She began to fake-cry behind her gag, no doubt dreading the punishment that was coming. I almost felt bad for her.
“How about I be nice this time. I’ll call it a draw.” I said. Emily look at me with genuine appreciation. A sigh of relief escaped through the upper and lower edges of the tape on her mouth.
“Now, let’s get to work.” I scooped her up again in my arms, causing her to shriek, and carried her over to the desk, gently sitting her down on top of it, beside my computer. Emily made herself comfortable, adjusting side to side on the desk, completely secured still, her feet hanging several inches off of the ground. As I sat down and opened my laptop, I heard her start laughing. With her reddish brown hair all in her face, she was looking down at her chest, giggling at the mangled scrap of fabric that was once her top. Her breasts now completely exposed, but still pressed against her chest by the string of the bikini, Emily grinned, shaking her head at me.
“Look what I’ve done!,” I think she tried to say. All that came out was a series of grunts and moans.
Slightly embarrassed, but not wanting to ignore what had happened, I offered to help.
“Want me to find you a shirt?” I asked, hoping she’d say no.
“Hmmmmph.” She grunted, shaking her head quickly.
“Hmm mrrr hmmm hm hm” she motioned with her head behind her, toward the bikini strings tied in a bow on the back of her kneck.
“You want me to re-tie that?” I asked, earnestly.
“Hmmph.” She shook her head again.
“Untie it?”
Emily nodded her head, shrugging her shoulders, presenting her back to me.
“Okay, if that’s what you want.” I undid the bow, letting the bikini top fall to the floor. I got back into my chair as Emily shifted again to face me. Her bare, heavy breasts swaying and knocking into each other as she turned. For a brief moment, I imagined throwing Emily into the bed, pressing both of my palms over her chest, and kissing them up and down. I could hear her moan into the tape in my imagination.
Above her bulging cheeks, Emily’s eyes shifted, her head tilting slightly the side, as she started to study me, anticipating how I’d react to her now.
“I don’t have to work now. We can take a break. What do you want to do? Want me to untie you?” I said, trying to make sure she felt in control now that her bare chest was inches from my face.
“Hmmph.” Emily shook her head, grunting as she slid off of the table. To my delight, she began hopping across the room, her backside bobbing up and down behind her bound wrists. Bending over to her side, Emily grabbed her phone off of the dresser. She turned back toward me, and began hopping again, her breasts shooting up and crashing down each time. I could tell she knew I was staring, and she began slowing down, taking time between each leap, until finally reaching the desk. Emily sat down sideways in my lap, draping her bound legs over the arm of the chair. She began typing hurriedly on her phone with her hands behind her back.
“Hmmmmph,” she said, shaking the phone in her fingertips, trying to pass it to me. Her face had changed somehow, her voice sounded less silly behind her taped mouth, and more soft. I took the phone from her and read the message typed out in her Notes app:
Don’t untie me. I have some rope in one of the front pockets of the suitcase. You can add that to me if you take the tape off. Just undo my mouth for me. I never gave you your reward for catching me last night.”
“Turn around — let’s see how I did.”
Emily hopped in place a few times as she turned to face me, her pink bikini top fighting for its life.
“Mmmmph?” she grunted, wriggling a little, as if to say, “what do you think?”
Placing my hands on the outsides of her shoulders, I looked her up and down. Purple tape was wrapped around her ankles, knees, and strong, muscled thighs. From the front, you could see tape circling her waist, pinning the wrists taped behind her to her torso. Several layers were also applied beneath her chest, strapping in place her arms, pressing tightly into her skin and making her breasts protrude just a little more. Grabbing her shoulders tighter, I decided it was time for some fun. I began spinning Emily in place, teasing that I needed a more thorough look.
“MMMMMMMPH!” Emily yelped as her hopping struggled to keep pace with her forcibly turning body. As her breasts bounced a few inches in front of me, I could tell it was only a matter of time before that bikini gave way. I stopped, giving her a chance to catch her breath.
“So what now? Did I do a good job?”
“Mmmmhmmmm!” Emily said, nodding enthusiastically. I could tell she was enjoying how ridiculous this situation was, playing up her excitement to an almost unbelievable degree.
“Think you can get out of it?”
“HMMM HMMM” she boasted, nodding her head cooly, almost unimpressed by the question.
“Well then, have at it!” In one swoop, I grabbed her shoulders again, shoving her toward one of the beds. After a few discombobulated hops, Emily crashed down onto the bed, laughing hysterically into her gag. She began pulling and twisting at the tape holding her hands firmly in place behind her back, rolling and shaking over the bed to get leverage. No luck. The tape held, twisting and sticking to itself, becoming even harder to slip out of.
“HHHHHMMMMPPPH!” She grunted, feigning anger and frustration toward me as she continued working. She became focused, methodical in her approach, testing the corners her binds with each finger.
“I don’t know about this.” I said, grinning.
“Hmmmph?” Emily rolled back around, sitting up on the bed to look at me. She slouched forward, making her massive chest hang freely below her. Her struggling had wrinkled her top, making it cover even less of her than before.
“This doesn’t seem real enough. I think you have a gear you haven’t tapped into yet. You should fight like your life depended on it, like in that story from class. How about this: if you can’t get out in five minutes I’m going to start tickling you.”
“HMMMPH HMMMMMMMPH!” Emily screamed into the tape pressed over her lips, flipping back onto the bed, kicking her legs hard now, jerking her shoulders and arms against her restrains. She was grunting now with each pull, putting her full effort into escaping. Sweat soon covered her whole body, making her skin glisten in the dusty sunlight seeping through the window. I could see her muscles flexing as she kept working, and I was impressed. Clearly, Emily was someone who worked out, and was incredibly strong for her size. I almost became impressed at my own taping job, neglecting how unfair of a competition this was from the start.
“Times up!” I said, sitting down next to Emily. She sat up again, covered in sweat, her hair now loose and disheveled from the bun. She began to fake-cry behind her gag, no doubt dreading the punishment that was coming. I almost felt bad for her.
“How about I be nice this time. I’ll call it a draw.” I said. Emily look at me with genuine appreciation. A sigh of relief escaped through the upper and lower edges of the tape on her mouth.
“Now, let’s get to work.” I scooped her up again in my arms, causing her to shriek, and carried her over to the desk, gently sitting her down on top of it, beside my computer. Emily made herself comfortable, adjusting side to side on the desk, completely secured still, her feet hanging several inches off of the ground. As I sat down and opened my laptop, I heard her start laughing. With her reddish brown hair all in her face, she was looking down at her chest, giggling at the mangled scrap of fabric that was once her top. Her breasts now completely exposed, but still pressed against her chest by the string of the bikini, Emily grinned, shaking her head at me.
“Look what I’ve done!,” I think she tried to say. All that came out was a series of grunts and moans.
Slightly embarrassed, but not wanting to ignore what had happened, I offered to help.
“Want me to find you a shirt?” I asked, hoping she’d say no.
“Hmmmmph.” She grunted, shaking her head quickly.
“Hmm mrrr hmmm hm hm” she motioned with her head behind her, toward the bikini strings tied in a bow on the back of her kneck.
“You want me to re-tie that?” I asked, earnestly.
“Hmmph.” She shook her head again.
“Untie it?”
Emily nodded her head, shrugging her shoulders, presenting her back to me.
“Okay, if that’s what you want.” I undid the bow, letting the bikini top fall to the floor. I got back into my chair as Emily shifted again to face me. Her bare, heavy breasts swaying and knocking into each other as she turned. For a brief moment, I imagined throwing Emily into the bed, pressing both of my palms over her chest, and kissing them up and down. I could hear her moan into the tape in my imagination.
Above her bulging cheeks, Emily’s eyes shifted, her head tilting slightly the side, as she started to study me, anticipating how I’d react to her now.
“I don’t have to work now. We can take a break. What do you want to do? Want me to untie you?” I said, trying to make sure she felt in control now that her bare chest was inches from my face.
“Hmmph.” Emily shook her head, grunting as she slid off of the table. To my delight, she began hopping across the room, her backside bobbing up and down behind her bound wrists. Bending over to her side, Emily grabbed her phone off of the dresser. She turned back toward me, and began hopping again, her breasts shooting up and crashing down each time. I could tell she knew I was staring, and she began slowing down, taking time between each leap, until finally reaching the desk. Emily sat down sideways in my lap, draping her bound legs over the arm of the chair. She began typing hurriedly on her phone with her hands behind her back.
“Hmmmmph,” she said, shaking the phone in her fingertips, trying to pass it to me. Her face had changed somehow, her voice sounded less silly behind her taped mouth, and more soft. I took the phone from her and read the message typed out in her Notes app:
Don’t untie me. I have some rope in one of the front pockets of the suitcase. You can add that to me if you take the tape off. Just undo my mouth for me. I never gave you your reward for catching me last night.”
The story is progressing nicely and is very enjoyable, for an added bonus some rope for the M/F rope snobs here 
Last edited by laz 1 year ago, edited 2 times in total.
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charliesmith
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 332
- Joined: 6 years ago
It has been a very enjoyable read so far!
Please feel free to read and comment your thoughts.
My ongoing stories:
Roadtrip of Dreams (M/F) Chapter 14 Added.
My ongoing stories:
Roadtrip of Dreams (M/F) Chapter 14 Added.
From my jumble of thoughts, it is hard for me to pick coherent sentences. Others have clearly liked your story, but I do not think that it is being given the praise that it deserves. First, you have embedded your tugs in an original, unique story. At least I haven't read anything similar. It is easy to identify with your protagonist, Simon Cusk, He tries to be nice, he is befuddled, he is somewhat lost.
And then you present him with Emily Clay who is the stuff of dreams. Does the editor know that Simon is blocked and did he choose Emily specifically to jar him back into productivity? She is the assistant that we all pine to have. In my case, I know that all I would get would be a Nurse Ratched type.
Your writing is clear, descriptive, and sets a great pace for moving the story along. I do hope to see a lot more of your writing on this site. You are unquestionably a skilled and competent author. Welcome to this site.
And then you present him with Emily Clay who is the stuff of dreams. Does the editor know that Simon is blocked and did he choose Emily specifically to jar him back into productivity? She is the assistant that we all pine to have. In my case, I know that all I would get would be a Nurse Ratched type.
Your writing is clear, descriptive, and sets a great pace for moving the story along. I do hope to see a lot more of your writing on this site. You are unquestionably a skilled and competent author. Welcome to this site.
A List of my stories:An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
-
TapeTurtle
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 70
- Joined: 1 year ago
- Location: East Coast, U.S.
Part Five:
Standing Emily back up, I began carefully unwrapping the purple tape from around her head, holding her hair each revolution so as to keep the process as painless as possible. After several rounds, the pressure on her mouth began easing, her cheeks unbulging, her eyes fixed directly up at me. With the final rotation, the tape slipped from her lips, pulling them both slightly to the left as they were released. A sock, now soaking wet, dropped from her mouth onto the carpet.
“I hope that was clean,” I said, surprised she had gone to such lengths to gag herself, and to do so for me nonetheless.
“Don’t worry, it was.” Emily looked straight up at me, and I looked down at her head, which was directly under mine. Her hair was a total disaster, wrecked with knots and sticking to the sweat that coated her face and neck. “I am a proper lady after all...” Both of us began laughing, softly at first, then heavier, then settling down.
“So — how do I look?” Emily swayed side to side as she stared up at me, showing her teeth as she smiled, her mouth slightly open, her bare breasts swinging gently, nipples nearly grazing my upper stomach. She leaned forward, pressing her chest into me. “Did that help you get some ideas off the ground?”
“Absolutely it did. You look incredible. What are they paying you at the publishing house? They should double it. Triple it.”
“Good. We’ll have to keep this up then — and I’m going to need to invest in something other than tape if I’m going to keep all my hair during this tour.”
“I’ll be the one investing. You’re not paying for anything.”
“How chivalrous,” she quipped with sarcasm, leaning back and continuing to sway. “Now…there’s one more thing to do…” She took a small hop toward me, collecting her balance as she pressed against me, her hands still trapped behind her back.
Emily smiled at me, kindly, and warm. Her green eyes closed deftly as with effort she lifted herself up onto her tip-toes, lifting her head and pursing her lips together. She waited there for me patiently. Without thinking, l lifted her chin in my hand and brought her mouth to mine. We kissed sweetly, innocently, without concern for whatever happened next, for either several seconds or 20 minutes, until she lowered herself back down, opening her eyes.
“Thank you for catching me last night.”
I exhaled through my nose, smiling and laughing easily. I admit my mind had imagined other things when she asked me to remove the tape from her mouth.
“What?” Emily giggled back, “Did you think the reward would be something else? I’m a lady, Mr. Cusk — this only our first date.”
“I wasn’t aware this was a date.” I lobbed back.
“You’re right. It’s work. A work-date. We’ll work out the language later.”
Emily hopped back to her suitcase, grabbing a pair of scissors before making her way jauntily back to me.
“Now get me out of this,” she said, trying clumsily to hand me the scissors with her bound hands. “I’m gonna shower. You go jot some ideas down. We have a few full days in Baton Rouge tomorrow and need to go to bed.”
— — — — — — — — — — —
Clearly exhausted from the night before, Emily spent most of the drive to Baton Rouge asleep in the passenger seat beside me. At stop lights, I would steal a few glances over to her. Now that spring was starting to open up, she was wearing a white and yellow sundress, which brought out the light red in her sandy hair. Her legs were crossed and propped up on the dashboard, her yellow high-heels dangling off of her ankles.
“Gathering some inspiration?” Emily woke up, much to my surprise, and had been watching me ogle her. Even after last night, I felt embarrassed.
“Huh? Oh. Yes. Sorry. Um…did you sleep well?”
“Very,” she replied cooly “I had a dream about our time last night.”
“Was it…good?” I desperately wanted to hear more.
“It was an excellent dream.” Emily chuckled, pulling her hair from her face with her hands. “I just dreamed exactly what happened, except this time, I figured out how to escape the tape. I have this awful competitive streak in me, and it’s been eating me up that I lost that challenge of yours. So in my dream, actually won.”
“In your dreams is right.” I laughed, pausing for a while. “I’m unhealthily competitive too. It’s why getting stuck like that with my book was killing me so badly. All of my peers and friends were making progress in all of these projects and I was standing in place, staring at a blank screen for months and hating myself.”
“I definitely understand. I’d feel the same way too. That’s why im glad you’re finally feeling up to working on it.” She paused, grinning to herself. “But you’re not beating me in anything for the rest of the time we’re on this tour together. So enjoy that while you have it.”
“Is that so? You sound really confident in yourself, Clay. I would be careful.”
“Careful for what!?” Emily’s tone pitched up; I was clearly getting a rise out of her. “I’m confident because I win things. Are you one of those men who can’t handle confident women?” I knew she was joking, but I figured I’d play along.
“THAT DOES IT!” I exclaimed, in an overdone, faked rage.
“I’ll prove it to you. Pick a challenge — anything you want. If it’s fair we’ll do it and I’ll whip your ass. Go ahead. Pick something.”
“We’re in a car Emily. We’re going to be at the college soon. What could we possibly compete at before the reading, and where would we do it? Why don’t we wait until we get to the next motel. I’ll give you all you can handle then.”
“Nope!” Still playful, Emily was becoming indignant. “Before the motel. I want to see how sharp you are in the real world. We can wait till after the reading. But I’ll find a place, and you pick a challenge, and we’ll settle this.”
“Fine — your funeral,” I said, putting a lighthearted end to things.
We pulled into the visitors parking lot of the small college I was reading at today. I loved reading at schools, and felt at home getting out of the car and looking up at the tall, statured buildings. Emily exited her side of the car and walked around toward me, her heels clicking on the asphalt. Her dress was short, but modest, and made of a light fabric that fluttered as she moved. Her neckline covered her chest, but couldn’t hide the bounce each step sent up through her.
“You’re mine, Cusk. Let’s get this reading over with.” Emily punched me playfully in the arm before gathering a suitcase full of books. I noticed her bondage suitcase lying next to it on the floor of the backseat. “I think we’re this way,” she said, then started down a stone path into campus.
Not long after we started walking, Emily stopped cold in her tracks. She dropped the rolling suitcase of books on the ground, and beckoned toward me to come stand next to her.
“There!” She said. “That building. The library. That’s where we’re settling this. After the reading let’s head there.”
“The library?! What are we going to do in there?” I questioned how far my assistant was willing to take this dispute.
“Thats your problem to solve, genius, not mine.” She gathered the suitcase and kept walking forward, not looking back, saying with her stride and stance that she had already won. She turned her head, “Best of luck figuring it out though!”
Not responding, continuing behind her, I racked my brain for ways I could beat her at something in the confines of a library…
Suddenly, I smiled, which Emily never saw. My mind drifted toward a certain suitcase sitting in the backseat of my car.
Standing Emily back up, I began carefully unwrapping the purple tape from around her head, holding her hair each revolution so as to keep the process as painless as possible. After several rounds, the pressure on her mouth began easing, her cheeks unbulging, her eyes fixed directly up at me. With the final rotation, the tape slipped from her lips, pulling them both slightly to the left as they were released. A sock, now soaking wet, dropped from her mouth onto the carpet.
“I hope that was clean,” I said, surprised she had gone to such lengths to gag herself, and to do so for me nonetheless.
“Don’t worry, it was.” Emily looked straight up at me, and I looked down at her head, which was directly under mine. Her hair was a total disaster, wrecked with knots and sticking to the sweat that coated her face and neck. “I am a proper lady after all...” Both of us began laughing, softly at first, then heavier, then settling down.
“So — how do I look?” Emily swayed side to side as she stared up at me, showing her teeth as she smiled, her mouth slightly open, her bare breasts swinging gently, nipples nearly grazing my upper stomach. She leaned forward, pressing her chest into me. “Did that help you get some ideas off the ground?”
“Absolutely it did. You look incredible. What are they paying you at the publishing house? They should double it. Triple it.”
“Good. We’ll have to keep this up then — and I’m going to need to invest in something other than tape if I’m going to keep all my hair during this tour.”
“I’ll be the one investing. You’re not paying for anything.”
“How chivalrous,” she quipped with sarcasm, leaning back and continuing to sway. “Now…there’s one more thing to do…” She took a small hop toward me, collecting her balance as she pressed against me, her hands still trapped behind her back.
Emily smiled at me, kindly, and warm. Her green eyes closed deftly as with effort she lifted herself up onto her tip-toes, lifting her head and pursing her lips together. She waited there for me patiently. Without thinking, l lifted her chin in my hand and brought her mouth to mine. We kissed sweetly, innocently, without concern for whatever happened next, for either several seconds or 20 minutes, until she lowered herself back down, opening her eyes.
“Thank you for catching me last night.”
I exhaled through my nose, smiling and laughing easily. I admit my mind had imagined other things when she asked me to remove the tape from her mouth.
“What?” Emily giggled back, “Did you think the reward would be something else? I’m a lady, Mr. Cusk — this only our first date.”
“I wasn’t aware this was a date.” I lobbed back.
“You’re right. It’s work. A work-date. We’ll work out the language later.”
Emily hopped back to her suitcase, grabbing a pair of scissors before making her way jauntily back to me.
“Now get me out of this,” she said, trying clumsily to hand me the scissors with her bound hands. “I’m gonna shower. You go jot some ideas down. We have a few full days in Baton Rouge tomorrow and need to go to bed.”
— — — — — — — — — — —
Clearly exhausted from the night before, Emily spent most of the drive to Baton Rouge asleep in the passenger seat beside me. At stop lights, I would steal a few glances over to her. Now that spring was starting to open up, she was wearing a white and yellow sundress, which brought out the light red in her sandy hair. Her legs were crossed and propped up on the dashboard, her yellow high-heels dangling off of her ankles.
“Gathering some inspiration?” Emily woke up, much to my surprise, and had been watching me ogle her. Even after last night, I felt embarrassed.
“Huh? Oh. Yes. Sorry. Um…did you sleep well?”
“Very,” she replied cooly “I had a dream about our time last night.”
“Was it…good?” I desperately wanted to hear more.
“It was an excellent dream.” Emily chuckled, pulling her hair from her face with her hands. “I just dreamed exactly what happened, except this time, I figured out how to escape the tape. I have this awful competitive streak in me, and it’s been eating me up that I lost that challenge of yours. So in my dream, actually won.”
“In your dreams is right.” I laughed, pausing for a while. “I’m unhealthily competitive too. It’s why getting stuck like that with my book was killing me so badly. All of my peers and friends were making progress in all of these projects and I was standing in place, staring at a blank screen for months and hating myself.”
“I definitely understand. I’d feel the same way too. That’s why im glad you’re finally feeling up to working on it.” She paused, grinning to herself. “But you’re not beating me in anything for the rest of the time we’re on this tour together. So enjoy that while you have it.”
“Is that so? You sound really confident in yourself, Clay. I would be careful.”
“Careful for what!?” Emily’s tone pitched up; I was clearly getting a rise out of her. “I’m confident because I win things. Are you one of those men who can’t handle confident women?” I knew she was joking, but I figured I’d play along.
“THAT DOES IT!” I exclaimed, in an overdone, faked rage.
“I’ll prove it to you. Pick a challenge — anything you want. If it’s fair we’ll do it and I’ll whip your ass. Go ahead. Pick something.”
“We’re in a car Emily. We’re going to be at the college soon. What could we possibly compete at before the reading, and where would we do it? Why don’t we wait until we get to the next motel. I’ll give you all you can handle then.”
“Nope!” Still playful, Emily was becoming indignant. “Before the motel. I want to see how sharp you are in the real world. We can wait till after the reading. But I’ll find a place, and you pick a challenge, and we’ll settle this.”
“Fine — your funeral,” I said, putting a lighthearted end to things.
We pulled into the visitors parking lot of the small college I was reading at today. I loved reading at schools, and felt at home getting out of the car and looking up at the tall, statured buildings. Emily exited her side of the car and walked around toward me, her heels clicking on the asphalt. Her dress was short, but modest, and made of a light fabric that fluttered as she moved. Her neckline covered her chest, but couldn’t hide the bounce each step sent up through her.
“You’re mine, Cusk. Let’s get this reading over with.” Emily punched me playfully in the arm before gathering a suitcase full of books. I noticed her bondage suitcase lying next to it on the floor of the backseat. “I think we’re this way,” she said, then started down a stone path into campus.
Not long after we started walking, Emily stopped cold in her tracks. She dropped the rolling suitcase of books on the ground, and beckoned toward me to come stand next to her.
“There!” She said. “That building. The library. That’s where we’re settling this. After the reading let’s head there.”
“The library?! What are we going to do in there?” I questioned how far my assistant was willing to take this dispute.
“Thats your problem to solve, genius, not mine.” She gathered the suitcase and kept walking forward, not looking back, saying with her stride and stance that she had already won. She turned her head, “Best of luck figuring it out though!”
Not responding, continuing behind her, I racked my brain for ways I could beat her at something in the confines of a library…
Suddenly, I smiled, which Emily never saw. My mind drifted toward a certain suitcase sitting in the backseat of my car.
-
TapeTurtle
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 70
- Joined: 1 year ago
- Location: East Coast, U.S.
Part Six:
I closed the covers of my first novel, sending a gentle thump into the microphone and through the decorated community room. “Thank you.”
A modest wave of applause rippled through the crowd of 70 or 80. It was my most exciting reading in months, thanks, I’m sure, to the professor of creative writing on campus that had chosen my book to teach throughout her 4 classes. Tucking my book under my arm, I made my way to the signing table, which Emily stood at dutifully, her hands folded behind her back, having just added extra books to the display to accommodate the above-average attendance. A line of about 20 had already formed by the time I reached my seat. The signing went quicker than usual, mostly due to the pace with which the audience members had to pass through the line — each short anecdote and dose of small talk capped to the length of time it took me to sign my name, smile, and say “thank you so much” before welcoming the next person. I started to feel like myself again. I thought of the years when I would tour around the largest cities in every state, staying hours at each reading to meet and greet readers who had traveled to get their book signed, and perhaps a picture.
“Pssst.” Emily whispered over her shoulder to me. “Just five more — stay strong!”
The last five members passed through the line, leaving me to shake hands with the event organizers as Emily began clearing the table. I was only really interested in talking to the professor who had assigned my books, but was informed she couldn’t make it, as she suddenly got tied up with something else. Politely saying no to other offers for drinks and dinner with various faculty, I stepped back to the table to help Emily clean up.
“I thought you had forgotten about me,” she teased. “I was starting to get jealous.” We quickly packed the remaining books into the suitcase and began walking back toward the cars.
“That was…a good reading,” I said, notably reluctant to say anything positive about anything in my career. “A really good one.”
“It was,” Emily nodded. “People really love the things you wrote — the things you write. I’m always surprised there’s not always a crowd that size whenever you show up somewhere.” She smiled sweetly, clearly meaning every word. She kept walking a few more paces, stepping ahead of me and guiding us down an unfamiliar stone path. “Even if you are a bit cocky sometimes…” she glanced at me over her shoulder, grinning and stopping in place.
I looked up. We were standing at the front of the campus library, a large, towering brick building of at least six or seven floors.
“Ready?” She said, smiling with her teeth.
“You may be a big hot shot of a writer, but I think it’s time someone taught you some humility.” She stepped back toward me, pretending to punch me several times in the stomach. “Your ass is mine. The library’s open. Let’s head in — hope you thought of something good to lose at.”
“Oh — that’s right, shit. I forgot about this. Fine, let’s go inside, but make it quick. I’m tired and want to go to bed soon.”
Every word of this was a lie.
“Excuses already. Wow. I’m disappointed. I thought this was going to be hard,” Emily sighed and began opening the tall, heavy doors.
“Wait — give me that suitcase. I’m going to go put it in the car. I don’t want us to leave it somewhere while we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing. I’ll use the walk to think of something.” Emily rolled her eyes, nodded, then handed me the suitcase. “You go find a study room on one of the higher floors, if they have those. Try to find a floor that’s empty. Text me the room number and I’ll meet you there.”
— — — — — — — — —
“7th floor, study room C. It’s completely empty up here!” I grinned at the text on my phone, having dropped off the book suitcase and walked back up to the library with a different bag in tow.
“On my way up” I replied.
“If I were you, I’d just head back down, and maybe ask for some forgiveness,” Emily texted back.
Exiting the elevator at the seventh floor, I saw that Emily was right. It was a total ghost town. The fluorescent lights were weak, and gave off a light that felt dry and dusty on the eyes. I wheeled the suitcase around, the perimeter of the floor, peering through the field of bookshelves for any bystanders. The floor was deceptively large, and took at least four ir five minutes to walk around completely. Finally, seeing study room C in a corner, I wheeled the suitcase up to the door, knocked, and stepped inside.
“Took you long enough!” Emily was waiting inside, walking around the room with her hands on her hips. Even in this awful light, there wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t glow. The white and yellow dress came down narrowly at her hips, and puffed out slightly at her thighs, casting a shadow over her defined calves and thin ankles. “What will your failure look like today, Cusk?”
“I’ve got one idea, I think.” I stepped into the room fully, wheeling the suitcase into sight.
“Didn’t you go put that back?” Emily looked confused, until her eyes fell to the bag, and she suddenly realized which of her bags it was in my hand.
“Oh you’re an asshole.” Emily smiled at me, determined, and combative.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
“Good lord, how did you learn how to do this?”
Emily pulled at the brown rope that had cinched her wrists and elbows behind her. After a few pulls, it was clear she wasn’t making any progress undoing my work.
“I’ll tell you that story later,” I replied. I leaned over, pulling her feet together, leaving on her yellow high-heels, binding her ankles tightly with another line of rope.
“Jesus, Simon. You must be really scared of getting your butt kicked by a girl.”
“Mortified,” I flatly said back.
“What’s the challenge? You never said. Why am I tied up? Do I just need to escape again, because you know I will. I was hoping you’d be able to come up with something more original, being a man of words and all.”
“Just a few more moments and I’ll tell you. But first, since you’ve got so much to say to me about it…” I dug my hands into the suitcase.
“Pick one.” I held up my hands to Emily’s face. In one was a roll of pink, glittered duct tape. In the other, a purple ball gag. “I didn’t know you carried one of these around,” I said, shaking the ball gag in front of her.
“I will repeat. You are an asshole.” Emily tugged at her wrists — still no luck. “Ugggh. Fine. The tape. No. The ball. No — I can’t decide which one would AHMPH!”
I quickly filled her mouth with the ball gag, strapping it tightly around the back of her head. She groaned and gagged at how quickly she found her mouth unable to close around the surprisingly large sphere.
“HMMPH HMMMPH!” Emily clearly attempted to call me an asshole.
“You’re gonna wanna stop calling me that. How about both then — sounds great!” I tore off several pieces of the pink tape and plastered onto Emily’s mouth, rubbing it in to form a seal between her lips and the ball between them.
“Ready to hear your mission, Miss Clay?”
“HMMPH, HMMMPH HMMMPH.” I presumed she meant to say “Yes, asshole.” I promised her I would remember that one.
“Your job is pretty simple — should be a cinch. It took me about four minutes to walk around the outer edge of this floor. I’m going to give you 30, in light of your present state.”
“HMMMPH. HMMMPH.”
“Last warning! Stop calling me that! Now, just head out there, do a lap around the outer edge of the floor, and come back here. If you do it in under 30 minutes, you win, and I’ll admit I am nowhere near the competitor you are. The floor is empty, and the library closes in 45 minutes, so no one will be coming up this high. You’re in the clear.”
“HMMPH?”
Emily grunted into her gags, staring in disbelief at the challenge I had concocted.
“Unless you’d like to surrender before you even start. I would understand. Some people just don’t have that fight in them. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“HMMMMPH. HMMMMPH.”
After calling me an asshole one last time, Emily hopped toward the door, looking out through the small glass window in the center of it, scanning to see if what I said was true.
“Ready to give a try?”
“Hmmmph.” Emily said finally, inhaling deeply and nodding her head.
“Right then. I have my timer ready, I’ll be here waiting when you get back. I’ll get the door for you.” I cracked the door to the main floor open, letting my bound assistant hop several feet into the main floor area. “Oh I almost forgot! Remember when you wouldn’t stop calling me an asshole?”
Emily hopped back around to face me, her gagged face tilted to the left with confusion.
“Turns out, I am.”
In one fell swoop, I spun Emily back around, grabbing the zipper on the back of her dress and pulling it down, hard. The whole garment slid off past her knees and onto the ground without resistance, leaving Emily, bound and gagged in the open air, wearing nothing hit a bright blue bra and matching underwear.
“HMMMMPH! HMMMPH! HMPH HMMMMMMMPH!” Emily frantically hopped back toward the study room, which to her terror, had been shut and locked behind her.
“Door opens when you get back, or in 30 minutes. Good luck!”
Realizing she had no where else to go, Emily began hopping feverishly around the outside edge of the floor, struggling each step to stay upright in her heels. The clicking she made as she landed each time reverberated off the other end of the floor before traveling back to me. Each time she found herself beside a bookcase, she’d bend over to peer into the aisle, ensuring the coast was clear. Then, she’d hop four or five to the next, her breasts and rear end bouncing almost in slow motion each time. She repeated this process until she reached the corner of the floor, before turning back to me and muttering something I imagine was nasty.
“I believe in you!” I said as she disappeared from view. Sitting back down in a chair in the study room, I listened to the clicking of her heels on the floor as she made slow, painstaking progress around the room. After about 20 minutes, the sound started getting close, and I was sure I had somehow been beaten by her.
Suddenly, the clicking quit its predictable rhythm. It got frantic, too quick to mean anything other than she was shuffling in place.
“HMMMMMPH!” Emily screamed in surprise.
I peaked my head out of the room to call out to her, until the regular sound of her clicking hops resumed. She was almost back to the room, a winner. Relieved, I almost returned to my chair when a clear voice pushed around the corner toward me.
“Does this belong to you?”
Emily emerged from around the corner, heaving her body forward. From this distance, I could see in the light on her skin that she sweating profusely. Behind her, with one hand on the small of Emily’s back, nudging her forward, was a librarian. She was tall and thin, and looked to be around the same age as the assistant tied, gagged, and hopping in front of her. I could hear a steady stream of sound emerging from Emily’s muffled mouth, unclear what to make of its cadence. I worried that she was sobbing, which would make sense.
My stomach dropped. This was my fault. It was no one else’s. I couldn’t see a way to explain this to Emily or to the publishing house or to anyone else. The tour was over, and more importantly, my time with Emily was done. I walked quickly up to the pair of women, unable to understand the sound Emily was making. I recognized it — it was laughter. Full-chested, belly-aching laughter. What I didn’t understand was how that was possible.
“I asked you a question, does this belong to you?” The librarian pulled a strand of sweat dripped hair off of Emily’s face.
“Yes. She’s with me. I’m so sorry - we were just playing around. We’ll leave immediately. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said. She patted Emily on the back. “I’ve never met someone who can keep Emily quiet this long before.”
I closed the covers of my first novel, sending a gentle thump into the microphone and through the decorated community room. “Thank you.”
A modest wave of applause rippled through the crowd of 70 or 80. It was my most exciting reading in months, thanks, I’m sure, to the professor of creative writing on campus that had chosen my book to teach throughout her 4 classes. Tucking my book under my arm, I made my way to the signing table, which Emily stood at dutifully, her hands folded behind her back, having just added extra books to the display to accommodate the above-average attendance. A line of about 20 had already formed by the time I reached my seat. The signing went quicker than usual, mostly due to the pace with which the audience members had to pass through the line — each short anecdote and dose of small talk capped to the length of time it took me to sign my name, smile, and say “thank you so much” before welcoming the next person. I started to feel like myself again. I thought of the years when I would tour around the largest cities in every state, staying hours at each reading to meet and greet readers who had traveled to get their book signed, and perhaps a picture.
“Pssst.” Emily whispered over her shoulder to me. “Just five more — stay strong!”
The last five members passed through the line, leaving me to shake hands with the event organizers as Emily began clearing the table. I was only really interested in talking to the professor who had assigned my books, but was informed she couldn’t make it, as she suddenly got tied up with something else. Politely saying no to other offers for drinks and dinner with various faculty, I stepped back to the table to help Emily clean up.
“I thought you had forgotten about me,” she teased. “I was starting to get jealous.” We quickly packed the remaining books into the suitcase and began walking back toward the cars.
“That was…a good reading,” I said, notably reluctant to say anything positive about anything in my career. “A really good one.”
“It was,” Emily nodded. “People really love the things you wrote — the things you write. I’m always surprised there’s not always a crowd that size whenever you show up somewhere.” She smiled sweetly, clearly meaning every word. She kept walking a few more paces, stepping ahead of me and guiding us down an unfamiliar stone path. “Even if you are a bit cocky sometimes…” she glanced at me over her shoulder, grinning and stopping in place.
I looked up. We were standing at the front of the campus library, a large, towering brick building of at least six or seven floors.
“Ready?” She said, smiling with her teeth.
“You may be a big hot shot of a writer, but I think it’s time someone taught you some humility.” She stepped back toward me, pretending to punch me several times in the stomach. “Your ass is mine. The library’s open. Let’s head in — hope you thought of something good to lose at.”
“Oh — that’s right, shit. I forgot about this. Fine, let’s go inside, but make it quick. I’m tired and want to go to bed soon.”
Every word of this was a lie.
“Excuses already. Wow. I’m disappointed. I thought this was going to be hard,” Emily sighed and began opening the tall, heavy doors.
“Wait — give me that suitcase. I’m going to go put it in the car. I don’t want us to leave it somewhere while we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing. I’ll use the walk to think of something.” Emily rolled her eyes, nodded, then handed me the suitcase. “You go find a study room on one of the higher floors, if they have those. Try to find a floor that’s empty. Text me the room number and I’ll meet you there.”
— — — — — — — — —
“7th floor, study room C. It’s completely empty up here!” I grinned at the text on my phone, having dropped off the book suitcase and walked back up to the library with a different bag in tow.
“On my way up” I replied.
“If I were you, I’d just head back down, and maybe ask for some forgiveness,” Emily texted back.
Exiting the elevator at the seventh floor, I saw that Emily was right. It was a total ghost town. The fluorescent lights were weak, and gave off a light that felt dry and dusty on the eyes. I wheeled the suitcase around, the perimeter of the floor, peering through the field of bookshelves for any bystanders. The floor was deceptively large, and took at least four ir five minutes to walk around completely. Finally, seeing study room C in a corner, I wheeled the suitcase up to the door, knocked, and stepped inside.
“Took you long enough!” Emily was waiting inside, walking around the room with her hands on her hips. Even in this awful light, there wasn’t an inch of her that didn’t glow. The white and yellow dress came down narrowly at her hips, and puffed out slightly at her thighs, casting a shadow over her defined calves and thin ankles. “What will your failure look like today, Cusk?”
“I’ve got one idea, I think.” I stepped into the room fully, wheeling the suitcase into sight.
“Didn’t you go put that back?” Emily looked confused, until her eyes fell to the bag, and she suddenly realized which of her bags it was in my hand.
“Oh you’re an asshole.” Emily smiled at me, determined, and combative.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
“Good lord, how did you learn how to do this?”
Emily pulled at the brown rope that had cinched her wrists and elbows behind her. After a few pulls, it was clear she wasn’t making any progress undoing my work.
“I’ll tell you that story later,” I replied. I leaned over, pulling her feet together, leaving on her yellow high-heels, binding her ankles tightly with another line of rope.
“Jesus, Simon. You must be really scared of getting your butt kicked by a girl.”
“Mortified,” I flatly said back.
“What’s the challenge? You never said. Why am I tied up? Do I just need to escape again, because you know I will. I was hoping you’d be able to come up with something more original, being a man of words and all.”
“Just a few more moments and I’ll tell you. But first, since you’ve got so much to say to me about it…” I dug my hands into the suitcase.
“Pick one.” I held up my hands to Emily’s face. In one was a roll of pink, glittered duct tape. In the other, a purple ball gag. “I didn’t know you carried one of these around,” I said, shaking the ball gag in front of her.
“I will repeat. You are an asshole.” Emily tugged at her wrists — still no luck. “Ugggh. Fine. The tape. No. The ball. No — I can’t decide which one would AHMPH!”
I quickly filled her mouth with the ball gag, strapping it tightly around the back of her head. She groaned and gagged at how quickly she found her mouth unable to close around the surprisingly large sphere.
“HMMPH HMMMPH!” Emily clearly attempted to call me an asshole.
“You’re gonna wanna stop calling me that. How about both then — sounds great!” I tore off several pieces of the pink tape and plastered onto Emily’s mouth, rubbing it in to form a seal between her lips and the ball between them.
“Ready to hear your mission, Miss Clay?”
“HMMPH, HMMMPH HMMMPH.” I presumed she meant to say “Yes, asshole.” I promised her I would remember that one.
“Your job is pretty simple — should be a cinch. It took me about four minutes to walk around the outer edge of this floor. I’m going to give you 30, in light of your present state.”
“HMMMPH. HMMMPH.”
“Last warning! Stop calling me that! Now, just head out there, do a lap around the outer edge of the floor, and come back here. If you do it in under 30 minutes, you win, and I’ll admit I am nowhere near the competitor you are. The floor is empty, and the library closes in 45 minutes, so no one will be coming up this high. You’re in the clear.”
“HMMPH?”
Emily grunted into her gags, staring in disbelief at the challenge I had concocted.
“Unless you’d like to surrender before you even start. I would understand. Some people just don’t have that fight in them. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“HMMMMPH. HMMMMPH.”
After calling me an asshole one last time, Emily hopped toward the door, looking out through the small glass window in the center of it, scanning to see if what I said was true.
“Ready to give a try?”
“Hmmmph.” Emily said finally, inhaling deeply and nodding her head.
“Right then. I have my timer ready, I’ll be here waiting when you get back. I’ll get the door for you.” I cracked the door to the main floor open, letting my bound assistant hop several feet into the main floor area. “Oh I almost forgot! Remember when you wouldn’t stop calling me an asshole?”
Emily hopped back around to face me, her gagged face tilted to the left with confusion.
“Turns out, I am.”
In one fell swoop, I spun Emily back around, grabbing the zipper on the back of her dress and pulling it down, hard. The whole garment slid off past her knees and onto the ground without resistance, leaving Emily, bound and gagged in the open air, wearing nothing hit a bright blue bra and matching underwear.
“HMMMMPH! HMMMPH! HMPH HMMMMMMMPH!” Emily frantically hopped back toward the study room, which to her terror, had been shut and locked behind her.
“Door opens when you get back, or in 30 minutes. Good luck!”
Realizing she had no where else to go, Emily began hopping feverishly around the outside edge of the floor, struggling each step to stay upright in her heels. The clicking she made as she landed each time reverberated off the other end of the floor before traveling back to me. Each time she found herself beside a bookcase, she’d bend over to peer into the aisle, ensuring the coast was clear. Then, she’d hop four or five to the next, her breasts and rear end bouncing almost in slow motion each time. She repeated this process until she reached the corner of the floor, before turning back to me and muttering something I imagine was nasty.
“I believe in you!” I said as she disappeared from view. Sitting back down in a chair in the study room, I listened to the clicking of her heels on the floor as she made slow, painstaking progress around the room. After about 20 minutes, the sound started getting close, and I was sure I had somehow been beaten by her.
Suddenly, the clicking quit its predictable rhythm. It got frantic, too quick to mean anything other than she was shuffling in place.
“HMMMMMPH!” Emily screamed in surprise.
I peaked my head out of the room to call out to her, until the regular sound of her clicking hops resumed. She was almost back to the room, a winner. Relieved, I almost returned to my chair when a clear voice pushed around the corner toward me.
“Does this belong to you?”
Emily emerged from around the corner, heaving her body forward. From this distance, I could see in the light on her skin that she sweating profusely. Behind her, with one hand on the small of Emily’s back, nudging her forward, was a librarian. She was tall and thin, and looked to be around the same age as the assistant tied, gagged, and hopping in front of her. I could hear a steady stream of sound emerging from Emily’s muffled mouth, unclear what to make of its cadence. I worried that she was sobbing, which would make sense.
My stomach dropped. This was my fault. It was no one else’s. I couldn’t see a way to explain this to Emily or to the publishing house or to anyone else. The tour was over, and more importantly, my time with Emily was done. I walked quickly up to the pair of women, unable to understand the sound Emily was making. I recognized it — it was laughter. Full-chested, belly-aching laughter. What I didn’t understand was how that was possible.
“I asked you a question, does this belong to you?” The librarian pulled a strand of sweat dripped hair off of Emily’s face.
“Yes. She’s with me. I’m so sorry - we were just playing around. We’ll leave immediately. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said. She patted Emily on the back. “I’ve never met someone who can keep Emily quiet this long before.”
Last edited by TapeTurtle 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
For Part Five, I don't think Cusk knows what has hit him.
A List of my stories:An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
Part Six shows how wrong I can be. WOW,did Cusk come through like a champ, or not?
A List of my stories:An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
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charliesmith
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 332
- Joined: 6 years ago
This getting more and more fun! Loving it.
Please feel free to read and comment your thoughts.
My ongoing stories:
Roadtrip of Dreams (M/F) Chapter 14 Added.
My ongoing stories:
Roadtrip of Dreams (M/F) Chapter 14 Added.
Very fine story 
Which writer would not love such an diligent assistant
Which writer would not love such an diligent assistant 
-
TapeTurtle
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 70
- Joined: 1 year ago
- Location: East Coast, U.S.
Part Seven:
“We were friends in college,” the librarian said, correctly interpreting my gawking face as needing more context. “We actually met in your class. Emily and I were part of a small…study group.”
Emily nodded excitedly, laughing still into her gag, her sky-blue bra heaving up and down.
“We were actually supposed to have lunch while she was in town…but I guess fate picked tonight instead. Not exactly what I remember Emily doing in her spare time in school, but people change.” Emily rolled her eyes.
“Well — it’s great to meet a friend of Emily’s. We’ve only been spending time together for a few days, but im guessing you know it didn’t take long for her competitive streak to get out of control.”
“Hmmmph!” Emily grunted her disapproval, wriggling her hands behind her.
“My name is Simon. We’re on campus to do a book reading thing. It was her idea to come up here.”
“I’m Greta. Im glad you both made your way up here on a day like today. I haven’t seen a soul in the building since 8 this morning. I’m assuming she didn’t hop her way in here like this. Where are you two set up?”
“We have a study room right over there—“ as I pointed toward our room, a chime went off in my pocket. The thirty minutes had just ran out.
“HMMMPH! Hmmmph mmmmmf hmm hmmph.” Emily shook her head violently, unaware the clock was still running. She began hopping aggressively toward the door in her clicking high heels before I stuck out my arm to catch her.
“Looks like whatever it was you were doing, Emily just lost. Let’s get her into the study room. I want to hear about this one.”
— — — — — — — — — — — —
Emily sat on a table in the study room, still bound, still gagged, and still half nude. She was pretending to ignore me as I shared my account of the challenge to Greta. Greta pursed her lips, making a clicking sound that conveyed a feigned disappointment.
“Another miracle it seems — I’ve never known Emily to stop talking, and I certainly have never seen her bested by anyone before. You’re on quite the roll here tonight, Mr. Cusk. So what happens now?”
Emily turned her head slightly to listen in.
“Ummm, I don’t really know. To be honest, with the amount of trash this one talks, I was starting to doubt I would win this one.”
“Hmmmmmmmph.”
“Where are you two staying? Are you going to bring my dear friend back to some seedy motel like this?”
“Hmmph!” Emily perked up, believing her friend to be working toward getting her out of her current predicament.
“You should bring her back to my house — it’s not much, but it’s close by, and private. You may not even need to untie her. Then we can figure out what to do with her.”
“HMMMMPHHHHHHH??” Emily gasped, looking like she had been shocked with ice water.
“Sure, that would probably be better than our current spot. Right Emily?” Emily didn’t answer, standing up and hop-turning away from the two untied adults. “So you’re saying we get her out of here…like this? How do we do that?”
“If you can wait here for another hour, I’ll be off the clock, and the building will be totally empty. My car is about ten feet from the door. Sound alright with you?”
“Sounds great.”
“Perfect. I’m so glad I ran into you tonight, Em. I’ll see the two of you in an hour.” Greta made her way out the door before turning back. “You probably want to keep that gag in, she doesn’t look quite ready to admit defeat. I’m sure you can find some way to keep yourself busy besides arguing.” Greta closed the door behind her, leaving me and my underwear-clad assistant alone in the small study room.
“Hmmmmph.” Emily grunted, turning back away.
— — — — — — — — — — —
Try as we did, the silence left behind by Greta only lasted a few minutes. Emily became antsy, pulling at the ropes around her wrists, moaning into the tape over her mouth. Clearly growing more frustrated at her bonds, I could tell that Emily had figured she needed to try something else.
“Mmmmmmph?” She asked a question I couldn’t understand, sliding off of the table and turning toward me. She shuffled her heels across the floor toward my chair, until she was standing in front of me. “Mmmp mmmmph hmmmmph.” Emily batted her eyelashes sweetly, swaying as she did in the motel the night before. Though her bra was secure, it was hard not to stare and wish otherwise. She began reaching her hands out toward me, asking me to free them.
“You want me to untie you?”
“Hmmmph.” Emily nodded, holding her hands out again.
“I’m sorry — Greta told me not to. We’re in her house, so to speak. So her rules go.”
“HMMMMMPH,” she pleaded, scooting her body to be almost on top of mine. I tilted my head upward from my seat to look at her. She began leaning forward, nearly draping her chest directly into my face. Although playing innocent, it was clear she knew exactly what she was doing.
“I can’t untie you, I’m sorry. Besides — you haven’t even admitted you lost yet. And what’s in it for me? I love seeing you like this.”
Emily pulled back, reconsidering quietly, forming a new idea, then leaned forward, holding her twice-gagged face out toward mine. “Mmmmph?” she seemed to ask.
“Ungag you? Why would I do that? What do I receive other than another barrage of cuss words?” I teased Emily, tapping my finger on her collarbone lightly. “What can you offer me?”
Something shifted in the assistant’s eyes. Her demeanor changed, becoming calmer, less frantic. She looked down at her own bound body, then back up at me. She laughed softly, before shrugging, and replying, “Whmm hmm hmmm hmmph?”
“What do I want? I don’t know — you know I never know. You tell me.”
Emily paused, then leaned forward one more time, this time pushing her chest directly into my face. My nose and mouth burrowed deep into incredible cleavage.
“Hmmph…” Emily pulled back, hopping to the other side of the room, gesturing with her head and shoulders that she wanted me to follow. I stood up and did just that, walking toward her and stopping just short of her face. “Hmmmph…” she moaned again, swaying again slightly. This time, she stared up at me without breaking eye contact, waiting for me to be the one to move. I felt my hands rise as if filled with helium, watching them settle on Emily’s back. I unhooked her bra and watch it tumble to her tied ankles. Looking down at her own pillowy, open breasts, Emily looked back at me, clearly smiling now, nearly laughing. “Hmmph.” She said softly, leaning in to my open hands.
— — — — — — — — — —
I stood in that room playing with Emily’s breasts for what had to be four hours, but was really only twenty minutes. In that short time, I tried to find every way with which I could feel them — squeezing, caressing, tracing, even weighing them in my hand. Emily moaned in pleasure at each new movement, tilting her head all the way up, and closing her eyes. I could have stopped then, and been happy. But this woman had destroying my inhibitions and long-held worries since that first night we had dinner.
“Want me to take that gag off now?” I asked.
“Hmmph. Emily shrugged, no longer seeming to care about that.
“Okay. I think you’ve almost convinced me,” I said coyly, trying to dig at her one last time. But I think there’s a just few things I still can’t get past. What else are you thinking about doing to change my mind?”
Emily picked up on what I was trying desperately to say without saying.
“Hmmmmmmmph,” she whispered, grinning, lowering her self slowly to her knees before needing assistance from me. “Hmmph.” She stared at the front of my khakis. “Hmmph hmmph.”
Without thinking about where I was, or who I was, or what this was, I undid my belt, unbuttoned the waist of my pants, pulling my member out of my boxers. Emily’s eyes widened slightly, before she regained her composure. She looked up at me, smiling huge behind her gag. I leaned down, peeling the layers of tape off of her face, and pulling the ball-gag down out of her mouth. She licked the sides of her lips, grinning and breathing heavily.
“It’s about time,” she said. “You win,” she sighed, before taking me into her mouth, never breaking once eye contact with me.
“We were friends in college,” the librarian said, correctly interpreting my gawking face as needing more context. “We actually met in your class. Emily and I were part of a small…study group.”
Emily nodded excitedly, laughing still into her gag, her sky-blue bra heaving up and down.
“We were actually supposed to have lunch while she was in town…but I guess fate picked tonight instead. Not exactly what I remember Emily doing in her spare time in school, but people change.” Emily rolled her eyes.
“Well — it’s great to meet a friend of Emily’s. We’ve only been spending time together for a few days, but im guessing you know it didn’t take long for her competitive streak to get out of control.”
“Hmmmph!” Emily grunted her disapproval, wriggling her hands behind her.
“My name is Simon. We’re on campus to do a book reading thing. It was her idea to come up here.”
“I’m Greta. Im glad you both made your way up here on a day like today. I haven’t seen a soul in the building since 8 this morning. I’m assuming she didn’t hop her way in here like this. Where are you two set up?”
“We have a study room right over there—“ as I pointed toward our room, a chime went off in my pocket. The thirty minutes had just ran out.
“HMMMPH! Hmmmph mmmmmf hmm hmmph.” Emily shook her head violently, unaware the clock was still running. She began hopping aggressively toward the door in her clicking high heels before I stuck out my arm to catch her.
“Looks like whatever it was you were doing, Emily just lost. Let’s get her into the study room. I want to hear about this one.”
— — — — — — — — — — — —
Emily sat on a table in the study room, still bound, still gagged, and still half nude. She was pretending to ignore me as I shared my account of the challenge to Greta. Greta pursed her lips, making a clicking sound that conveyed a feigned disappointment.
“Another miracle it seems — I’ve never known Emily to stop talking, and I certainly have never seen her bested by anyone before. You’re on quite the roll here tonight, Mr. Cusk. So what happens now?”
Emily turned her head slightly to listen in.
“Ummm, I don’t really know. To be honest, with the amount of trash this one talks, I was starting to doubt I would win this one.”
“Hmmmmmmmph.”
“Where are you two staying? Are you going to bring my dear friend back to some seedy motel like this?”
“Hmmph!” Emily perked up, believing her friend to be working toward getting her out of her current predicament.
“You should bring her back to my house — it’s not much, but it’s close by, and private. You may not even need to untie her. Then we can figure out what to do with her.”
“HMMMMPHHHHHHH??” Emily gasped, looking like she had been shocked with ice water.
“Sure, that would probably be better than our current spot. Right Emily?” Emily didn’t answer, standing up and hop-turning away from the two untied adults. “So you’re saying we get her out of here…like this? How do we do that?”
“If you can wait here for another hour, I’ll be off the clock, and the building will be totally empty. My car is about ten feet from the door. Sound alright with you?”
“Sounds great.”
“Perfect. I’m so glad I ran into you tonight, Em. I’ll see the two of you in an hour.” Greta made her way out the door before turning back. “You probably want to keep that gag in, she doesn’t look quite ready to admit defeat. I’m sure you can find some way to keep yourself busy besides arguing.” Greta closed the door behind her, leaving me and my underwear-clad assistant alone in the small study room.
“Hmmmmph.” Emily grunted, turning back away.
— — — — — — — — — — —
Try as we did, the silence left behind by Greta only lasted a few minutes. Emily became antsy, pulling at the ropes around her wrists, moaning into the tape over her mouth. Clearly growing more frustrated at her bonds, I could tell that Emily had figured she needed to try something else.
“Mmmmmmph?” She asked a question I couldn’t understand, sliding off of the table and turning toward me. She shuffled her heels across the floor toward my chair, until she was standing in front of me. “Mmmp mmmmph hmmmmph.” Emily batted her eyelashes sweetly, swaying as she did in the motel the night before. Though her bra was secure, it was hard not to stare and wish otherwise. She began reaching her hands out toward me, asking me to free them.
“You want me to untie you?”
“Hmmmph.” Emily nodded, holding her hands out again.
“I’m sorry — Greta told me not to. We’re in her house, so to speak. So her rules go.”
“HMMMMMPH,” she pleaded, scooting her body to be almost on top of mine. I tilted my head upward from my seat to look at her. She began leaning forward, nearly draping her chest directly into my face. Although playing innocent, it was clear she knew exactly what she was doing.
“I can’t untie you, I’m sorry. Besides — you haven’t even admitted you lost yet. And what’s in it for me? I love seeing you like this.”
Emily pulled back, reconsidering quietly, forming a new idea, then leaned forward, holding her twice-gagged face out toward mine. “Mmmmph?” she seemed to ask.
“Ungag you? Why would I do that? What do I receive other than another barrage of cuss words?” I teased Emily, tapping my finger on her collarbone lightly. “What can you offer me?”
Something shifted in the assistant’s eyes. Her demeanor changed, becoming calmer, less frantic. She looked down at her own bound body, then back up at me. She laughed softly, before shrugging, and replying, “Whmm hmm hmmm hmmph?”
“What do I want? I don’t know — you know I never know. You tell me.”
Emily paused, then leaned forward one more time, this time pushing her chest directly into my face. My nose and mouth burrowed deep into incredible cleavage.
“Hmmph…” Emily pulled back, hopping to the other side of the room, gesturing with her head and shoulders that she wanted me to follow. I stood up and did just that, walking toward her and stopping just short of her face. “Hmmmph…” she moaned again, swaying again slightly. This time, she stared up at me without breaking eye contact, waiting for me to be the one to move. I felt my hands rise as if filled with helium, watching them settle on Emily’s back. I unhooked her bra and watch it tumble to her tied ankles. Looking down at her own pillowy, open breasts, Emily looked back at me, clearly smiling now, nearly laughing. “Hmmph.” She said softly, leaning in to my open hands.
— — — — — — — — — —
I stood in that room playing with Emily’s breasts for what had to be four hours, but was really only twenty minutes. In that short time, I tried to find every way with which I could feel them — squeezing, caressing, tracing, even weighing them in my hand. Emily moaned in pleasure at each new movement, tilting her head all the way up, and closing her eyes. I could have stopped then, and been happy. But this woman had destroying my inhibitions and long-held worries since that first night we had dinner.
“Want me to take that gag off now?” I asked.
“Hmmph. Emily shrugged, no longer seeming to care about that.
“Okay. I think you’ve almost convinced me,” I said coyly, trying to dig at her one last time. But I think there’s a just few things I still can’t get past. What else are you thinking about doing to change my mind?”
Emily picked up on what I was trying desperately to say without saying.
“Hmmmmmmmph,” she whispered, grinning, lowering her self slowly to her knees before needing assistance from me. “Hmmph.” She stared at the front of my khakis. “Hmmph hmmph.”
Without thinking about where I was, or who I was, or what this was, I undid my belt, unbuttoned the waist of my pants, pulling my member out of my boxers. Emily’s eyes widened slightly, before she regained her composure. She looked up at me, smiling huge behind her gag. I leaned down, peeling the layers of tape off of her face, and pulling the ball-gag down out of her mouth. She licked the sides of her lips, grinning and breathing heavily.
“It’s about time,” she said. “You win,” she sighed, before taking me into her mouth, never breaking once eye contact with me.
Emily pays up. Simon wins, this time. My crystal bowl is cracked and muddy. I can't see the future. What will happen next?
A List of my stories:An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
I just got fully up to speed on this story. It's really great. Your style, your character interplay, your creative flourishes...they are all top notch. Really, really enjoyable. I love to see it and I hope you keep up the great work.