DIRK wrote: ↑2 years ago
GreyLord wrote: ↑2 years ago
Beaumains wrote: ↑2 years ago
... And for Aoife I have some plans.
I am looking forward to reading your plans.
Me too
Sadly, I have to disappoint you, but that will take a few more chapters. Welcome on board en wees welkom!
slackywacky wrote: ↑2 years ago
> I had little to repay Yuna for ruining her clothing and had also broken her trust. Why would she lend
> me anything else in the future? Why would she help an unreliable tramp?
From one end all the way to the other. Bree keeps having doubts and this does not help her. Love your descriptions of her thought processes.
Great update.
On the other hand, many of these doubts are reasonable. There are many threats for girls like her and many who seek to take advantage of her situation. It's a way to survive which is very counterproductive in a 'safe' environment.
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Holding the appetizer’s plate and bowl, I pressed the door handle down and pushed the wood away. The first course, a creamy French onion soup, had been delicious, but devouring it alone in the bedroom had been peculiar. My head advised me to go downstairs and acknowledge all had been a misunderstanding. I had to face my hosts sooner or later to repay the intended kindness if I ever desired aid from these freaks again. Aoife, my humiliation’s executor, had sounded sincere. Clad in a grey hoodie, blue cigarette jeans, and fluffy boot slippers, I descended the red-carpeted stairs, but in the hallway, I had the strong urge to dash up.
“No, Bree. Be brave. For once,” I told myself and stepped through the door, praying for the tiles on the floor to absorb me. “Hey,” I declared, approached the table, and dodged every glare. I had practiced in the bathroom mirror.
“Welcome, please sit down,” Ambrose welcomed. He tapped his hand on the chair next to him.
I complied. The table was set for five: Ambrose, Cecilia, Talon, Remy, and me. The three nude girls had their own table about two-thirds of the usual height. It was shoved against ours and set similarly, but Aoife, Cheyenne, and Isabelle had to balance on their knees. Black ropes around their chests amplified them and included tiny bibs that did not conceal anything an ordinary person would cover. I had seen this in a flurry and concentrated on my empty plate, trying to ignore this madness. I acted like a bratty teenager not stubborn enough to miss a meal: Furious, but not so courageous to suffer to deliver a statement. I remained silent, and my body language made clear this was a chore, not a festivity.
“Thank you for rejoining us. We appreciate it immensely,” Cecilia smiled. “The main course is about to be served.” The absence of an apology signaled her desire to move on. I nodded, and Cecilia directed her attention elsewhere. She had received my message. “Chey lost most of her tan. Did you stop bringing her to the beach?” she asked Talon.
“Don’t talk about it,” Talon grumbled. “A new condo got built next to our secret beach.” Apparently, the residents deemed it distasteful that Cheyenne sunbathed tied up or was roped to the wooden poles that broke the water. I had to agree but said none. “Now we have to drive over two hours to reach the edge of society and some privacy.”
The conversation drifted towards political topics, judgmental
vanilla folk, lack of space, and other reasons why their ‘lifestyle’ was threatened. Talon and Remy got heated, failing to realize their share in dragging me into this mess, but I clamped my lips together.
“Turkey time!”
I jumped up. The lady in the Victorian maid outfit bore a platter holding a gigantic steaming turkey on a bed of potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and Brussels sprouts. Cecilia’s giggled as our eyes crossed. Something had been humorous. Probably me.
“Green bean casserole, gravy, and cranberry sauce are on the lower table,” the lady announced. “Bree, what do you want to drink?”
The rest of the table had red wine or a goldenrod fluid matching cheap apple juice. Ordering water would not be appreciated. “Uh, what’s that?” My finger pointed at the unappetizing mushy brownish liquid.
“Apple cider. It’s Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, sure, that sounds good,” I said, conjuring a fake smile. The conversations had paused, so all could assess my words. Although the cooking of the Great Thanksgiving Charity Dinner that local churches organized would be mediocre, I would be among equals and not play the ugly duckling.
“Bree, what ya demand?” Ambrose inquired, clutching a long knife to slaughter the turkey.
“It all looks and smells perfect. A bite of everything?”
My answer was correct, and my plate journeyed around the table to return with a mountain of food. The others received their meal in a strict order: first Remy and Talon because they were guests, then Cecilia and Ambrose, and finally the girls at the lower table. The constant reminders of this hierarchy continued, and Cecilia and Ambrose were ambiguous about my position. However, with everyone eying me, I picked up the fork and stuck it in a hunk of turkey. Juice gushed out, and I cut off a small portion. “Thank you for your hospitality,” I said to open the course. The meat entered my mouth, and I had to give credit where credit was due: It was the best turkey I had ever tasted. It was juicy, tender, flavorful, and summoned a genuine grin on my face, which Cecilia detected.
“You like it?”
“Yeah, it’s marvelous.” My display of emotion had been unintended. Showing my thoughts to these creeps would be a grave mistake -- they had their methods to exploit them. The dinner was exceptional, but that indicated nothing and was likely to comfort me over everything else. I had to prevent another situation like this afternoon.
Cecilia read my mind and returned to her own plate and the more interesting, talkative guests. The topic was bondage, and they casually discussed fashionable manners to tie up ‘their’ girl, including ways to make her aware of ‘her’ place. Too disgusted, I listened to the classical music playing in the background and emptied my plate. One night, then I was out and gone, not attending the Tangled Maiden’s Thanksgiving celebration.
After the main course and a short break, the desserts were brought to the table by the mansion’s faithful servant. I received royal portions of a pumpkin pie and a pecan pie, far more than the rest. My hosts sought me to eat more sweet treats as my stomach was about to snap already. I was skinny but not in an unhealthy manner. I ingested almost no sugar and fat as I ate mainly bread, beans, rice, and fruit and drunk water. Not that I despised them, but luxuries like sweets, cookies, spices, or meat had low priority within my modest budget. Bland food fed.
Ambrose, Remy, and Talon drunk strong-smelling lemon liquor, which I had declined. Combined with the wine, they became rowdy, although they were not drunk. “What’s next, Ce? Anything fun planned for tonight?” The dishes were not for them.
Cecilia was not euphoric. “I got something I’m dying to try for weeks, but it’ll take time to set up, half an hour or so. Could you entertain the girls? Keep them blindfolded.” Remy and Talon smirked before Cecilia addressed me. “What do you prefer? Would you like to be tied and surprised? I promise, it’ll be enjoyable, but you can also sit and watch or lend us a hand.”
“I’ll help,” I replied, wishing it was a responsible decision. I helped Ambrose move the couches and furniture to a corner, creating an arena in the center of the living room. On their mattress, chains held Cheyenne, Isabelle, and Aoife together. Aoife lay on her back on the bottom, and rods between her arms and legs kept them apart. I stared right in her vagina multiple times. Vulgar. Cheyenne and Isabelle lazed on top of the red-haired girl in opposing directions. Their ankles were attached to the pole between her arms and their wrists to the one between her feet. All three were blindfolded and gagged with a red rubber ball such that they only groaned when anyone grabbed their ass or breasts. The men chiefly constrained their absurd actions to ‘their’ girl but not always. With his flat hand, Talon even spanked Cheyenne on her bottoms until they were inflamed. It was tasteless.
This behavior assured me this world was not meant for me. Despite this afternoon’s incident, my stay had been a success: I had been informed adequately to decide to cut all ties. Yuna and Mariam were helpful, but bondage was simply not my cup of tea.
“Bree, get here. The doorstep is difficult,” Cecilia shouted from the hallway for the fourth time from behind the cart. First, a big plastic hump, resembling a bouncy house, then a yellow box with a control panel, thirdly a large machine, and now a lump covered in black plastic entered. “Thanks, this should be all. Can we blindfold you for the remaining part? Or can I spoil the surprise?”
“Spoiling is alright.”I couldn’t care less but was grateful Cecilia offered me a choice and did not push.
“Then you have to do the heavy lifting,” Ambrose said, and inflated, the thing formed a ring with the shiny mechanics as its centerpiece. “Come on.” Talon and Remy waited at the side, one fiddling with Cheyenne’s nipples, desiring me to jump in. My cowardice had a price. We lifted the plastic-wrapped item on the mechanic, and Cecilia fastened four bolts before I could let go. She removed the plastic, revealing the brown beast: A bull. A mechanical bull stood in the living room, and these weirdos would not use it as the manufacturer had planned.
“You wanna go first?” Cecilia queried. “Don’t worry, I won’t gag or blindfold you.”