A Life in Bondage and Porn: Plymouth (MF+/F+) *STORY UPDATED 26/05*

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Caesar73
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Post by Caesar73 »

Switchgirl wrote: 2 weeks ago Again, loving the turn the story is taking…Brooke still searching and realising she is being accepted

She seems closer to finding what she is - but I imagine they’re be some (F cup) roadbumps along the way…
I think your description pretty accurate!
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago
One of those many (my stories tend to be littered with them) just flowed that way moments.

Did intend Charlotte abandoning Brooke, in my more 'into it' moments possibly even all night. But I liked the idea of her being, actually no good. The funny element of Brooke stalking/running naked down the corridor after her, kidnapping her right back.

Can't and shouldn't always go deep and dark.
For sure.
RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago sorry there's two TUGs light chapters in a row, not ideal but I'll be making up for it next post.
I think it was a great set of chapters. Captured the feeling of a big stage quite well - I could feel how overwhelming and surreal it was for Brooke. The dialogue (specifically the cadence and pacing of it more then exact wording) was very on point for an awards show of this kind. Even found myself subconsciously 'hearing' it all in the typical echoing/booming sound of a microphone in a large room.
RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago "And. Tonight, we make that six."

Whispered anticipation, and were I not so distracted, mind wandering idly over thoughts of just what you'd have to do to earn such an honour.
Amusing how she didn't pick up on the obvious point that the award was for her :P Makes sense (things like that are all about expectations, and when those are aligned incorrectly it is easy to be blindsided by the obvious), but still quite funny.

Does suffer from the problem of being a climatic/cathartic scene (which makes sense given this was the end of your initial ideas, as it caps off a story arc quite nicely), which makes a continuation feel a little awkward. But I suppose that is where Fayth asking her to a shoot comes in, to help bridge the gap :)
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Post by RopeBunny »

Caesar73 wrote: 2 weeks ago
Switchgirl wrote: 2 weeks ago Again, loving the turn the story is taking…Brooke still searching and realising she is being accepted

She seems closer to finding what she is - but I imagine they’re be some (F cup) roadbumps along the way…
I think your description pretty accurate!
Thank you both. And, F cup roadbumps :lol:
BlissfulMisery wrote: 2 weeks ago
Does suffer from the problem of being a climatic/cathartic scene (which makes sense given this was the end of your initial ideas, as it caps off a story arc quite nicely), which makes a continuation feel a little awkward. But I suppose that is where Fayth asking her to a shoot comes in, to help bridge the gap :)
Was always going to be an issue. I wanted to write Plymouth, so came up with enough ideas to make a story. But now we're at the end.

And I want to continue, nothing else I feel in the mood to write so onwards towards Fayth, as you say a decent bridge taking us to what I have planned next.

And there is a plan :D
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Post by RopeBunny »

014.

Of course, after the high comes the sudden crashing need to sleep. Stepping down off the roller coaster of the past twenty-four hours.

Discovering, stumbling back into the hotel lobby empty vodka bottle and award in hand- and in my drunk sleep deprived state both feel equally important -that I've missed check out. But the staff aren't mad, my things have been packed with care, my suitcase and messenger bag stored behind the desk awaiting my eventual return.

So sorry, but we needed the room. Basically.

"Brooke?" Groggy, likely already collapsed and sleeping. "What...."
"Fayth." Running a hand through my hair, out on the street still wearing my ridiculously revealing dress, Kings jacket doing nothing to hide my canons and besides it's too hot really for that extra layer. "I've." Biting my lip, feeling bad but. "Forget it. Sorry. I'll check in somewhere."
"Check in?"

More awake, asking.

"Only had the room until this morning." Small laugh. "Forgot. But you need me in London?"
"Yeah. For the...."

A yawn I can hear, deep and long. Feeling the answer pulling my jaws wide.

"Come to mine."
"No it's okay." I didn't mean. "I'll...."
"Just." Shutting me down. "Come. I'll ring down and sort you out permission and shit. A key. Come up and get some sleep."
"Right. Thanks."
"S'...." Silence. "Kay."

Fayth hangs up. And.

"Shit." The spat curse earning me some looks, staring daggers at my phone because I forgot to ask her which hotel.

At which point the hated thing buzzes, so suddenly I almost drop it. A message from Fayth: an address and a room. A couple of choice- the swearing face and the kissing one -emoji tacked on after.

"Perfect." Hand, and phone covering another long yawn. Suitcase grabbed, and messenger bag- containing my award but not the vodka -slung crosswise. Off I go.

Missing my underground stop. Asleep and only the drivers heavy braking rousing me. Yawning, cursing. Changing platforms and trains and back we go.

To miss it again.

So I give up, shelling out for a taxi, the dark skinned and thickly accented- something African based -driver promising to wake me.

Which proves unnecessary. Suddenly I'm wired, on my fifth or eighth wind. Buzzing everything feeling and sounding, looking too loud and hyper real.

Until I close the door quietly to Fayth's room behind me, leaning back against the cool wood and just as suddenly I'm crashing. The dark shadowed space welcoming, eyes heavy and I can't stop yawning now. The piper demanding his due.

Shedding clothes and bags as I walk the short corridor into the room proper, side glance at the bathroom but no. I'm good, and too damn tired for crap like dental hygiene or removing whatever small amount of make-up remains on my face.

Slipping into bed as though Fayth were a sleeping tiger, the disturbing of which would bring forth an instant and painful death. Not thinking or considering the various merits and pitfalls of sharing a bed with her.

Only really. Fucking. Tired.

Settling, about to roll over and Fayth beats me to it. Mumbled nonsense and a smile as she rolls towards me, one arm flung out and over pulling my nakedness into contact with hers.

Sleep claiming me even whilst I manoeuvre to cuddle her back.

Sleep. And dreams.

Which sometimes are like slices of warped memory.

Fayth's house back across the pond, San Francisco and she's up on the hill, great views across the bay. Sunshine so much stronger then what we get in mostly damp England.

And dream me remembers waking me being there, wandering the corridor. Sneaking naked through unfamiliar darkness drawn by the sounds of gagged struggles and of a woman finding pleasure in them.

Memory. Warping.

Because I open the door to Fayth's room and there she is. Fayth, naked and sat up leaning back against her ornate wooden headboard, breasts thrust out body arching a wand vibrator in place. Control, being noisily lost. And yet.

Between her spread legs isn't the laptop I remember finding, having walked in after, Fayth asleep the show over. Because this did happen: her climaxing over downloaded content of me, bound and gagged and struggling. However in this warped dream I walk in to find Fayth still approaching her panting and buzzing climax.

And actual, not trapped within a screen me, naked and ballgagged and struggling, laid between Fayth's legs.

And. Shift.

As though the act of locking eyes with myself were the key suddenly I'm laid down, tight ropes digging in bending me into an unforgiving hogtie, and the phantom taste of rubber on my tongue. I roll, wriggling and fighting the ropes for movement, turning myself away from the doorway and back towards Fayth. Who looks down upon me.

Smiles.

And the sudden blaring of a phone wakes us both up before I do something really stupid.

Like beginning to dry hump Fayth, who might just be sleep fogged enough to hump me back.

Or?

"Is that...?"
"Mine." Huffing, on my back hand on forehead and Fayth still hugged close, still hugging me, smiling- like the dream -and not angry at being woken. Kiss to my cheek.

"Best see who it is then, Brooke."
"Best fucking shout at someone." Half growled as I roll away from her inviting warmth and nakedness. Out of bed and grabbing up my Kings jacket, pulling out the phone and.

"My boss." Rueful smile. "So."
"So no fucking shouting."
"Definitely," laughing as I swipe to answer, "no fucking shouting."

"Shouting at who?"
"Um." Grabbing up a pillow and climbing atop a laughing Fayth. Mock suffocating her as she wriggles and- fails to -fight me off. Not unpleasant feeling of her breasts bouncing against my belly and crotch. "Nobody. Stan. Morning."
"Afternoon. Brooke." Smiled tone. "Am I interrupting?"
"Interrupting...?"

Looking down and Fayth smiles back up. Mischievous. Letting me see her hand snaking, slow. Seeking out and finding my pussy, gently stroking.

And not that I mind but. Why? Did she, was she having the same dream?

'Stop it.' I mouth, squirming.

'Make me.' Flicked tongue running out and across her lips after the mouthed response. Not stopping, and just to make it worse she reaches for, begins teasing her own breasts.

"Can I." Eye contact, and Fayth stops but only to put both hands up between us to make a specific gesture.

'Come on.'

Both of us smiling.

"Can I call you back in ten minutes, boss?"
"Sure."

And yet somehow experience wins out over sheer brute force, because I am definitely stronger then Fayth, able to pin and throw her around. Off me.

Twice.

But fifteen minutes later. Sweaty. Horny as fuck and Fayth looking flushed too. Laid on her side, beside me holding my phone into the small space between her still naked body and my naked too, but now tightly hogtied body.

Mostly a win by cheating, if you ask me. Because rolling off her, going for my suitcase stashed rope and Fayth had met me on the field of battle: her hotel room bed, brandishing plastic cable ties.

Far easier to snare someone, a bucking and squirming, often laughing and we both were. Her cable ties, wrap and feed and yank proved far more effective.

I can feel them digging in, the sensation a constant reminder I've been bound only adding to my arousal. Not minding the pain and discomfort at all. Fayth captured my legs whilst I was far too distracted- thinking myself the winner -wrapping her ankles. She bound me at ankle and knee before moving on to my arms, wrist and elbow whilst pinning me with her weight.

Connecting wrists and ankles and even using several cable ties joined to wrap above and below my F cups. Overkill and making sure I'm all helpless.

Making sure I'm aware who lost.

"Stan." Swiping my unlocked screen awake. "Wasn't it?"
"Don't you dare." Bouncing, head shaking as I make a hopeless attempt to wriggle free from cables yanked tight and then a couple clicks more. "I can't talk to him like." Words failing me in the face of her smile. "Like...."
"No?" Pressing and swiping at my screen. "Well that's a shame because I just rang him."
"You...."

"Brooke."

Stan's voice on speaker phone, and I bite my lip. Shake my head but Fayth only grins, taps the side of my phone pushing it across the fight rumbled duvet. Towards me.

Shit.

Deep breath and.

"Yeah. Um. Stan." I stretch, not meaning to but you can't stretch in a hogtie without pushing your chest out. Towards her. "I'm here now."
"Great. You got a moment to talk?"
"I."

And of course she wasn't going to leave me alone. Cheeky. Mischief maker. Fucking problem collecting her dues as winner.

By the ancient and known rules of bondage: she won, I'm tied up, so therefore Fayth can do pretty much what she wants.

My word train is derailed, briefly, by the feel of Fayth's hand gently caressing my breast. Her face all innocent smile and I breathe, bite down on the sigh like moan lest Stan. My boss. Hears.

"Sure. Stan." Fayth flicks my nipple, teasing, milking her victory and enjoying my state. I take another breath. "Let's talk."

A talk I, somehow make it through without moaning or outright climaxing given I'm tied up. Horny fit to burst. And being worked over by an expert. Fayth is like a coach running a playbook, working all my zones and exploiting every weakness: breasts and pussy, nipples. Rubbing herself against me.

Torture. And. Pure heaven.

Somehow I hold up my end of a conversation which, quite obviously feels surreal and odd throughout. Talking tractors, my hammered out rough deal, the beginning bare bones of what we- the Forestry Commission -want versus and stacked against what they- JCB -can do. Stan apparently now has that deal, and has rung with further questions.

Which I. Somehow. Manage to answer whilst Fayth subjects me to a slow torturous death by way of teasing.

Until. Finally.

"That's great. Brooke. Thanks."
"Great." Voice barely shaking despite Fayth's thumb applying gentle pressure to my throbbing. Demanding, clit. "So, we're good?"
"For now. I'll bump this upwards and see what they make of it. But. You've done well."
"Thanks Stan."
"Stay safe Brooke."

And into the silence I exhale a shaky breath at Fayth, who stabs the red End Call symbol, rolling over to drop my phone onto the bedside stand.

"Fayth."
"Brooke?" Smiling, which dries up in the face of my now permitted to be shown need, and want. My horny fucking lust.

"Let me go or fuck me." Pushing my bound chest out at her. Offering. "Please."
"Well." Small smile and she reaches out, up, brushing back my hair. Leaning in to kiss me even whilst sliding closer to press breasts against mine.

The kiss, long and satisfying, showing me how worked up teasing me has made her too. Despite neither of us were sharing a bed for anything beyond company.

I don't think?

"I'm not letting you go." Pressure against my pussy lips, brief before her finger slides effortlessly inside. "Yet. So...."

And the rest is all floating.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

RopeBunny wrote: 1 week ago And there is a plan :D
:D

Fayth seems a lot more playful then the last time they were together - back then she seemed very unsure about the whole thing. Although I suppose it helps that Brooke gave her an opportunity to seize!
RopeBunny wrote: 1 week ago By the ancient and known rules of bondage: she won, I'm tied up, so therefore Fayth can do pretty much what she wants.
Not wrong :lol:
RopeBunny wrote: 1 week ago Mostly a win by cheating, if you ask me. Because rolling off her, going for my suitcase stashed rope and Fayth had met me on the field of battle: her hotel room bed, brandishing plastic cable ties.
Somehow I doubt Brooke's annoyance is all that sincere ;)
RopeBunny wrote: 1 week ago Torture. And. Pure heaven.
Indeed! A fun scene with the two of them, Brooke struggling valiantly to keep her composure when exposed to such insidious delights :)
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Post by RopeBunny »

RopeBunny wrote: 2 weeks ago
Still got that poll going, would be great to see some votes.

Please.
Over now.

And. I was hoping for more votes, have gone back and forth regarding even mentioning such. But.

I know I'm not the most commented author here, and, fair enough. I generally keep chugging along, occasional breaks but I come back. I'm now used to the low number of responses. So, is what it is.

But a poll, I'd hoped for a fair response, clicking isn't writing after all. I'd hoped for a good number of votes. I'd even taken time to consider my story direction were Deborah to win by a landslide :lol:

But it's fine.

Onwards.
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Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 week ago
Fayth seems a lot more playful then the last time they were together - back then she seemed very unsure about the whole thing. Although I suppose it helps that Brooke gave her an opportunity to seize!
Thought a playful chapter would be fun, and I did enjoy writing it. Could've had Brooke win, had thought it through what could Brooke do to/with Fayth. But the phone call option was too fun to ignore :D
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Post by RopeBunny »

Fayth shoot.
Plymouth and Fayth.
B. G. Industries.

It's the following day.

After releasing me, yesterday, we'd shared a bath, had dinner and gone to see a movie by which time it was late. A couple of drinks in the hotel bar and bed.

But only to sleep, despite the playfighting and subsequent teasing, in the bath we simply cuddle. Talk, and in the bed we sleep.

Comfortable in each others company, and besides there's a literal ocean between us. Stupid to even try a relationship. Of any sort beyond occasional unplanned fun.

So to bed. Trying to reset ourselves back into a normal sleeping waking cycle.

And this morning Fayth checked out, she's heading home later, and so am I. But first we've got a shoot to do.

"Repaying a debt." Shrugging at me as we walk, towing suitcases into the yard still in London, through tall chainlink gates. "Kind of."
"And they know I'm coming?"
"She." A nod. "Toni, with an i. And yes."
"Great." Spotting someone. Toni? Emerging from the semi derelict looking warehouse ahead. Tapping Fayth and pointing. She looks, nods.

"That's her." Arm up to wave.

"Fayth." Toni, smiling face surrounded by messy long hair that should be blonde but is streaked through with pink. Body all curves beneath black drawstring trousers and a tight red Manchester United top.

"Plymouth. Hey." Shaking my hand. "Thanks for helping out."
"Thanks for letting me." Smiling, and Fayth, yesterday over dinner had explained: a shoot requiring two models but a last minute cancellation, and after a phone call, made before she'd even asked me but Fayth had suggested me to Toni, feeling confident I'd be up for the work.

Which, of course yes.

So here I am.

"And this is yours?"
"Left to me." Nodding, and it doesn't look like much: rusting fence surrounding a weed infested lot, patches of green sprouting through cracks in the concrete. Two small warehouses of bare stone with corrugated iron roofing. A crappy inheritance until you note the location, the Docklands. Prime real estate, Toni could sell up, live comfortably for years.

Maybe one day she will.

"My Dad taught me." As we step inside, from sunshine to the glare and occasional flicker of overhead strip lighting. Illuminating a mechanics garage tall lift at the far end something low slung with a large spoiler suspended off the ground. Something, two other somethings that look more sedate, parked nearby with bonnets raised.

"But I'm into the bondage too. So." A shrug as we pass through a door and I nod, impressed.

"I tinker."
"Indeed." Wandering a circuit of what can still be called a bed, only modified. "Wow."
"Thanks." Grinning, walking up to pat one of the four posts, of this amazing thing she's made.

A four poster bed, king size the entire frame metal beams chunky but the four posts less so. Those at the head end are normal but the other two are.

Changed.

"Bathroom over there." Pointing to a half closed door. "Isn't the cleanest, but."
"It's fine." Fayth, as Toni shrugs. Uncaring when she's often elbows deep in oil.

Fayth and me strip off, folding clothes atop a wooden bench, swapping out our sensible more comfortable underwear for tiny thongs and lace heavy push up bras with plunging necklines. All white for Fayth, pink and grey for me.

"Excellent." Tapping pen against paper, printed contracts with spaces for banking details, names and so forth. I scan quickly, already knowing the rough outline of today, only checking.

"Right." Nodding. "Great. I'll be filming from here, because." A shrug. "Some of my subscribers like to see the prep. But once you two are secure I'll begin the shoot proper okay?"
"Sure." Nodding, looking to Fayth who nods too.

Thumbs up.

Watching as Toni flicks equipment on, cameras on tripods placed for good angles.

Toni ballgags us, full head harnesses all in black, taking her time to run the leather straps in such a way our hair remains neat. Brushing it down as she feeds everything all around and over, under the chin.

Buckling it tightly.

"Okay. Um." Actually play counting, some kids game I can see her singing the quick song. Miming words. "Plymouth." Pointing. "You first."
"Gghhlllffff." I nod, and whilst Fayth sits down, up by the headboard still nicely in shot but out of the way, I back up to a foot end corner post.

Metal bondage. More so then just cages, actual ridged things you can lock someone too. Exciting. And bizarrely not a thing I've tried much, given my tastes for ultimate surrender you'd think I'd be more inclined to seek this out. But there are many bondage models, and I'm known more as a rope girl, and there are others more into this angle.

Unless I did something of it myself?

Maybe?

The bedpost runs from floor to above my head, connecting at the top to the rectangular frame as it runs a circuit, and likewise to the lower frame below the knee. Off the cylindrical post, welded to it up the length are- mostly -pairs of very snug looking hoops.

Half hoops, the matching parts laid neatly on the floor.

I'm facing out, away from the bed the bulk of which, the mattress is behind me. Toni takes hold my arms and places them behind me, around the posts far side lined up and slotted into two of the hoop pairs, the height and size almost perfect matches for my wrists and just above the elbow the latter hoops at an angle given my upper arms aren't straight.

"The other model was skinny too." Commenting as she, literally, screws me in. The hoops come together and lock by way of three screws: one in the centre a flat plate and then one each at the outer edges. "So. Lucky huh?"
"Fffglll dddmmnnngggg." Nodding, tingles infecting my skin. The hoops are definitely snug, tight enough especially at the upper arms, biceps I can feel the pinch.

I'll be able to wriggle my fingers but fuck all else.

Legs next. Pinned slightly apart as though stood at my ease. Hoops around ankles, just below the knee and upper thigh. High up on the leg that last one the metal a thing I can almost feel, ghost like sensation against my wide awake pussy.

Waist. And neck. A final two. Locking my body ridged the hoop arrangement so well thought out I'm unable to move any limb save my fingers.

I'm forced to remain in place, no big upset obviously, waiting whilst Toni locks Fayth up in identical fashion. Sideways glances unable to do much else, seeing the curving shape of her across from me, enhanced D cups and virtually no clothes.

She looks amazing, as always.

"Okay. Ladies." Looking from Fayth to me, a thumbs up for us and we don't make a panicked racket, don't offer up a protest. So Toni nods. "I'll move onto the shoot proper now."

Closeups, walking a circuit of both the bed and us. Capturing angles and detail. Fayth and me remaining still, silent. Statue like as though we come with the bed.

As though this were the deluxe model, we two locked in place models an additional feature.

Camera down and Toni walks back into shot. Face a neutral mask as she approaches me.

Reaching out to cup my breast.

Running a finger over my ballgagged lips.

Pulling at, tugging my thong strap.

And I don't react. Remain still eyes front. No moaning no wriggling despite I really want to do both. Really want someone to come and fuck me too.

Please.

But it isn't that kind of shoot. Toni leaves me to pay Fayth the same level of attention, after which she climbs up atop the bed, relaxing back against the headboard, flicking through a magazine it sounds like.

And. Scene.

We're unlocked, and we change.

"Could I." Out before Fayth, snagging a moment alone with Toni and it isn't a secret, but it isn't Fayth's business either. "Could you build something for me?"
"I mean." Regarding me. A shrug. "Sure, anything in mind?"
"Not yet but." Thinking. "Do you have like a. Um...."
"Business card?" Producing one from a pocket, holding it out.

"Great. Thanks." Taking and slipping it into my messenger bag as Fayth appears.

And we head towards the station, where since I've got the time to spare, multiple travel departure options I wait with Fayth for her train.

See her off with a wave before returning to Owl Wood.

Back to life.
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Post by Caesar73 »

Fayth and Plymouth is a very intriguing combination :) It will be interesting how this relationship plays out @RopeBunny :)
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Post by Switchgirl »

Loved the last two chapters and now intrigued what Brooke wants building!!!

Love your writing as always!
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Post by RopeBunny »

Caesar73 wrote: 1 week ago Fayth and Plymouth is a very intriguing combination :)
It's one I've used before, Fayth is a girl from Plymouth's past as opposed Sonya (and others) who are new to this story. She's older, more years of experience in the industry but still playful at times, which I think makes for a good combination too.
Switchgirl wrote: 1 week ago intrigued what Brooke wants building!!!
Indeed :D

Probably won't see this new metal toy/device for awhile, because I'd already thought up a good chunk of story to carry hs forward, before the opportunity of Toni making something for Brooke entered my head :lol:

But I'll get around to it.

Thank you both for the comments and kind words.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Thought it'd be best to set things out first.

Regarding the road trip, about to begin below. I've done, will do some research. I'll make sure the major points are correct, locations and names, certain places.

But I'll be making stuff up too. Location of campsites for instance, or pub names. Small things.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Phone call.

"Broken anything expensive yet today?"
"No." Smiling, sitting down on a recently made stump. I'm tree felling, clearing a stand to roughly two thirds current capacity, making room for what beech and birch are left to spread out.

"But it's still early." Taking a drink of water, removing the orange helmet with built in flip down black ear defenders and mesh visor, wiping my sweaty forehead. It's hot, more so given the protective chaps buckled and zipped atop my denim shorts. She waits.

"And I suppose," smiling. Hoping, small jump of my heart. "That you're ringing from outside my house?" Not that she'd rung last time, but. "Again."

Sonya. Closing my eyes, enjoying the warmth despite the sticky legs and sports bra but no top, cleavage like a puddle. Eyes closed I picture her: body all curving lines from E cups down, a twelve to my six. Still only eighteen with hair like wildfire. Flirty. Sexy. Fun. And in such a short space of knowing each other we've already stacked up so many memories.

"Not this time." An easy laugh.

"I wanted to say well done."
"Because of...?" Probably, but I won't assume.

"How is it I didn't even know the Acadamy was a thing, and yet you have two awards?"
"Acadamie." Sounding it out, managing the French flow for something which isn't. Something actually American founded. Something pretentious.

"Acada." Pausing. "Mie?"
"Close enough." Taking a breath. "The Acadamie Internationale d'art pour Adultes to be exact."
"Fucking show-off."

I laugh. Sometimes.

"It's a niche thing to be fair." Shrugging. "I can show you how to register?"
"Okay. Great, thanks Brooke."
"All good."

Because you don't have to register with the Acadamie, kinda like a governing body slash database for adult- porn -industry workers. After all there's plenty who just turn on a webcam, in their bedroom and off we go. But, if you want to be official, you register, and by doing so you're connected to a wider world, a sometimes helpful world.

And because the Acadamie will officially recognise you, will mark your name- Plymouth -as yours, you might. Might. Win an award sometime.

Or two.

"How's life Sonya?"
"You know...." I don't, but. Okay.

"I. Well." Hesitating, and my turn to wait, not wanting to dive in and fill the gap.

"Were you serious?"
"About what?"
"Visiting?"
"Scotland?"
"Well, yeah." Movement. Is she pacing? Where is she? "Scotland." Sound of a deep breath, voice coming back smaller on the one word. "Me?"

There's hope there, in that word. Enough my heart jumps a second time. Because yes. But what- wanting to tease, feeling the need to keep things playful -was it she'd said before. To me?

"Not phoning me to declare undying love?" Grinning to myself. "Or some shit?"
"Ha." Laughter down the line. "Fucking. Not this time."
"S' alright." Laughing back, being honest because I'm- still -not ready for any serious commitment. "I can wait."

"But." Pausing, muffled sounds of a door shutting. Rush of escaping then trapped air. "I'd like to see you."
"Want to tie me up more like."
"I. Always." Heavy emphasis on the word. "Want to do that."

Sincere, and tingles in the belly join the lurch in my heart.

"Check your WhatsApp." My phone vibrating even with the words. I stand, switching over to speaker and. Clicking, tapping, swiping as I wander aimlessly around the growing cleared area I've been making for the past three days.

"Wow." Impressed. "And you want to...?"
"Go on that beast of yours. Please."
"Right. Well...."
"I bought a helmet, jacket."
"Did you really?" Damn.

A handwritten plan, full of crossings out to the point I can't even read parts. Arrows linking halfway down the page to both the top and bottom of the page. One of those arrows might. Might? Be crossed out. Messy, but legible enough that her thoughts come across. She's photographed the paper, sent it to me alongside more then a dozen website links, each contained in it's own message.

Busy girl.

"Won't have much room for stuff mind." Already thinking, a moments semi distraction considering what I can fit in the messenger bag. The only luggage I can bring if Sonya's riding pillion behind.

The Hayabusa: fast, sleek. A weapon not built for carrying saddlebags.

Or is it?

"Sure." Like waving my worries off. "I can pack minimalist."
"And still bring rope?" Because. Well, because of her plan, and because it's us. One of us needs to bring rope.

"And still, definitely absolutely, bring rope."
"Right. Well." Thinking, flicking back through what Sonya's sent over. "When?"
"When can you?"
"Ha." Throwing it back at me. "Like that is it? All eager for me?"
"Well." Laughing. "Pretty much."

"I missed you."
"Saying it won't get me on the road any quicker."
"No?"
"Well." Laughing. It might. "I mean...."
"What about the chance to submit?"
"To you?"
"Of course to me."

Smiles in both our voices. Walking a fine line, a tightrope beneath which I may find no safety net.

A sudden thought, a question and something I've wondered. Since last time, post Jester shoot and Sonya, possibly all scrambled and fogged inside, offering herself to me, laying naked and hogtied in my lap, submitting to my touch.

So I ask.

"You just want revenge for what I did last time?"
"And what makes you so sure I'm not going to let you have me again?" Throwing it back, no hesitation which means I just don't know?

"Are you?"
"Well...."

Followed by a laugh that feels, across the distance like nerves.

Maybe?

"So when can you come?"
"Don't you ask first, if I want to come?"
"Fine." Huffed breath. "Brooke."
"Sonya."
"Would you like to come to Scotland?"
"To see you?"
"Yes." Impatient and I grin.

"So we can see things."
"Lots of things."
"And you want to use my scary fast Hayabusa?"
"Definitely."
"And you want to tie me up?"
"Definitely." Impatience becoming a grin I can hear.

"Lots of times."
"For lots of shoots?"
"Lots of times for some," the clarification making me smile, "shoots."
"Then. Yes." Plunging, and it feels cold. But good, refreshing. "I'll come see Scotland, and you."
"Soon?" Need in her voice.

"I'll ring the boss."
"Good. Thanks. Brooke."
"I'll be in touch. Sonya."
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Post by RopeBunny »

015.

Owl Wood, my job keeps flexible hours. I could vanish and not need to ask, so long as the site is left in a good state, so long as I'm back before it gets too messy. Technically I'm always on call, should a fire or other disaster.

Man made or otherwise.

Break out, someone from the Forestry Commission needs to be on the other end of the phone, able to attend.

If I'm only gone a day, two, it's a simple process to just have the next nearest, or even head office instead of me. The call transferring automatically. But this is longer, so I need to ask permission.

Can I take short notice leave?

Yes, comes the reply. And we're on.

A whirlwind descends on my life, because Sonya said please come and I said yes, and neither of us wanted to wait. So for five days messages and constant calls fly back and forth. Planning. Booking things and people, checking details.

And between it all, flirting.

Sending Sonya a photo: my messenger bag, filled to bursting with rope and gags, wand vibrator iceberg like rising from it all. And beside the bag a scattering of- pretend discarded -clothes. 'Packing' I add, alongside a string of emoji.

'It's okay.' She sends back. 'Slaves don't need clothes.' With added emoji and kisses, a photo of herself fully dressed, riding crop in hand emphasising the roles in play.

However later that day. Online, tracking down and paying extra for overnight delivery of saddlebags because covering the distances we've planned, doing so whilst enjoying the ride we can't be loaded up. Let the bike take the strain not our shoulders.

A pair of large black canvas bags and a specialist frame, custom made for a Hayabusa- the company makes bespoke frames for a variety of sports bikes -which bolts to the bike chassis. Simple to apply and remove at each site, then apply again as we travel onwards.

Better.

Late, or really fucking early depending on your view of time, unable to sleep and my phone unexpectedly buzzes.

'Maybe.' Accompanied by a selfie, phone held above looking down on Sonya, naked in bed. Ballgagged, both the red rubber sphere and those E cups staring at me.

'Needs more rope.' I reply, adding in a quick mirror selfie. Rude not to return the favour I'd quickly walked to the bathroom and lifted my tee.

'You need more rope.'

'No argument from me.' With added winking and kiss blowing emoji, which earns me some kisses and laughter back.

We do a very good job winding each other towards frustration.

But finally it's time. The day arrives and I wake early, dressing and packing. Checking the Hayabusa and locking up the house and barn.

Stare at my phone, the message, sent whilst I slept. Biting my lip.

'Hey. B. Wanted to say well done. We should meet x x'

Indecision. For close to ten minutes, wasting time. Staring. Before with a shake of my head I swipe. Delete.

Climb onto the Hayabusa and set off.

Mile following mile, eating up the distance whilst around me traffic levels build from scattered nothing to a rush hour crawl. Sinking back down to daytime standard. Hours just to reach the border, scenery changing hills taking over. Looming.

I stop twice. Sonya's proposed meeting point, a train station she can travel to with ease, unwilling to have me near her house. Unwilling to answer the questions my turning up would raise, with her parents.

Which is fine.

But the station is far, hours on the road so I stop, needing to climb off and stretch, to walk around and not be sat. Not be forced into the slightly forward hunched posture the Hayabusa demands.

And. Finally, slowing down as motorway changes to narrower, twisting through towns, villages.

The train station and I indicate, turn in.

Spot her as she- head jerked up no doubt at the Hayabusa's howling entrance -spots me. Sonya, sat on a bench but already standing as I pull over onto the curb.

Climbing off, jacket unbuckled and opened, helmet off. A black 'Suzuki' tee and faded blue jeans. Black boots and she's wearing brown Doc Martins, faded black jeans tucked in and a green 'Minecraft' tee, logos splashed across our large busts.

Her jacket is short like mine, a ladies cut not quite falling to the waist. Where mine has a leather belt at neck- collar like -and waist hers is all zip, running diagonally allowing the front to hang open like large flaps or to be tucked inside and zipped closed.

Both are black. No patch, of course on Sonya's.

A blue helmet, white lines criss-crossing in echo of the Scottish flag, my own plain black.

For awhile we stand, and stare. Smiling at each other without exchanging words.

"Been waiting long?"
"About a week."
"Ha." Shaking my head. "Funny girl."
"Thanks for coming Brooke."
"Well." An easy shrug. "You made several very compelling arguments. So...."

Walking closer, leaving the words unsaid and Sonya matches the move, stepping away from the bench to meet me.

Hugging, my hands finding her butt pockets, squeezing whilst hers slide up under my jacket finding the bare skin of my back. Small scratch of long fingernails, back and forth. And there's a level of contentment to be found in just this, not even kissing let alone any ropes being out.

Foreheads touching, my eyes closed. Breathing her in.

"How far to the first site?"
"An hour?" Breaking away and fetching the- heavily annotated -map from her orange backpack. Old school, something all folded up Scotland laid out in detail roads and hill elevations. Our route, planned and marked. She holds it out, letting me trace and mentally picture the sequence of roads and villages.

"Right." Nodding. "If you need me to stop tap my side. Kay?"
"Got it." Thumbs up, slipping her backpack and carrier bag. Sonya's luggage bought from home fits comfortably into one of the saddlebags, my own- folded -messenger bag and assorted stuff already filling the other.

More space then if we'd trusted to backpack and messenger bag alone.

Checking her helmet, my muffled voice explaining best method and her nodding. Slipping on my own, jackets sealed and we climb- me first her following -onto the Hayabusa.

Sonya's legs, bent naturally at the knee fitting easily in front of the saddlebags, the bike feeling nicely balanced. Good.

Arms slipping around me, gripping but not too firmly. And away, keeping the speed sensible.

Arriving as afternoon considers giving way to evening. Scotland, inside the country not the actual border it really is a long, long way. Easing over speedbumps and pulling up at the campsites entrance, a small concrete building next to which sits the gate.

Sonya checks us in whilst I stretch, coming out smiling, handful of leaflets and a hook topped cardboard sign proclaiming 'I've checked in.'

"For your rearview mirror."
"I see." Smiling now too.

A wave from inside and up the barrier goes, we climb back aboard and- slowly -navigate the site, visors up and her holding me one handed. Tapping my side then pointing at each intersection.

Scattering of people despite it isn't the holidays: families and couples, groups of youngsters on a hen or stag, or something. We attract a fair amount of looks as we pass, attention. Staring and smiles.

And it could be the bike. Sleek lines all matt black paint just swallowing the sunshine, that single large Japanese character: falcon, Hayabusa, the name picked out on the left. Kerb side only in luminous green. My bike, bought in pieces and modified by necessity because of the fact. So she's loud even at a fast walking pace, striking.

Or it could be us. Two young ladies, figure hugging jeans showing off slim, or curvy in Sonya's case legs. Jackets halfway open showing large busts.

Either way, we eventually reach our pitch.

Glamping. Posh camping, cheaper then renting a large static- because it'll never move the way smaller car towed ones do -caravan. And more in the spirit of a holiday too. A teepee like tent, set up permanently one large internal room for sleeping and hanging out, small private corner with a toilet but no shower. We'll have to use the communal block everyday.

The plan is travelling, hopping site to site around Scotland, a different posh tent already paid for, a time slot and a number of days booked at each.

I lock the bike to a handy frame mostly meant for cycles without screaming engines, and inside we find a large lockable box that matches the key Sonya has. Can't- easily -lock a tent, so the box will keep our stuff safe. The saddlebags and bolt on frame removed, an easy job.

Perfect.

"Want to rest?"
"I'd rather eat." Not tired, feeling quite bouncy now I'm off the bike. Hungry. "Think there's a pub?"
"Didn't we pass one on the way in?" Her face thoughtful. "Not too far out?"
"I." Casting my memory back along the road. "Think we did."

So, jackets open and helmets left behind. Boots, we didn't bring anything else, on. We set off.

Sonya slipping, all casual like, a hand into mine as we walk. Small smile as I glance her way, widening as I smile back gripping her briefly tighter.

"The Swift Journey?" Frowning. "What kind of a name is that?"
"Cool though."
"Kinda weird." Not disagreeing, and I nod at her point. The pub building is an old station, benches set out along the short platform and no sign of the tracks, instead a cycle path winds through clearly following the long ago- it appears -ripped up course.

We step inside, order and take our first drinks back outside, finding an empty bench. Enjoying the sunshine and some much needed food, jackets off to feel the warmth on bare skin. Hair no longer tied back, blowing freely in the slight breeze.

"This is." Clinking drinks, our second. "Nice."
"Isn't it." Nodding, taking a sip. "Good to get away."
"What is it you do anyway?" Realising I've never asked.

"Aside from porn?"
"Aside from trapping and binding willing young girls."
"Like you." Playful, we've both slipped into teasing.

"Like me." Nodding. "Aside from porn, what is it you do?"
"Domino's." Pulling a face. "I've got friends there, so it's cool. But."
"But you'd rather do porn."
"But I need a legitimate job to keep my parents happy."
"Right."

Of course, she's got to justify the cash somehow, and if Sonya can't tell her parents about her other life, job, she's got to do other work so they won't think her lazy.

"Speaking." After a comfortable silence, gazing out at the view, the world. People watching.

Hand coming down atop mine, bringing focus back to Sonya. Who's smiling.

"Of trapping and binding willing young girls."
"Yes...." Swallowing the last of my drink, stalling because suddenly I'm one huge tingle, heart thumping. "What of it?"
"I've been very patient."
"You have."
"But now." Downing her own glass. Standing. "I want you. Brooke."

Reaching out a hand. Not outright demanding, there's room to say.

Let's have another drink, or.

Maybe tomorrow.

"Please." Asking. And I nod, slipping my hand into Sonya's, letting her pull me up, guide us both away.

Back to the tent.
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Post by Caesar73 »

I like the Layout of this Chapter :) The Idea of a ride - a ride in more than one sense :)

"Sending Sonya a photo: my messenger bag, filled to bursting with rope and gags, wand vibrator iceberg like rising from it all. And beside the bag a scattering of- pretend discarded -clothes. 'Packing' I add, alongside a string of emoji."
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

RopeBunny wrote: 1 week ago But the phone call option was too fun to ignore :D
Understandable! :)

-

The shoot scene seemed a little rushed - a bit one and done. Still, an interesting idea, and obviously gives the opportunity for Plymouth to experiment with metal bondage herself in the future as teased.

And Brooke is showing her hand more then she has previously with regards to Sonya, with how she immediately agreed to go on an impromptu trip/vacation/sort-of-date.

Maybe Sonya has noticed, is perhaps moving in on the opening that has been given. A continuation of the strange 'dance' their relationship has been so far :)
RopeBunny wrote: 1 week ago Arriving as afternoon considers giving way to evening.
A nice turn of phrase. And overall a fine description of the trip. Especially liked the flirty back and forth between the two beforehand. Very cute/amusing!
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Post by RopeBunny »

Caesar73 wrote: 1 week ago I like the Layout of this Chapter :) The Idea of a ride - a ride in more than one sense :)
Indeed :D

Thank you.
BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 week ago
The shoot scene seemed a little rushed - a bit one and done. Still, an interesting idea, and obviously gives the opportunity for Plymouth to experiment with metal bondage herself in the future as teased.
To be fair it kinda was.

Sort of.

Entirely my fault, I'd planned for Fayth and Brooke to meet at the awards, had planned for at least two shoots between them, a nice filler and bridging gap leading into whatever came next.

Which I still- at that point -didn't know :lol:

And then I had the thought of the road trip. And as happens I began to have all these ideas for what could happen on the road trip.

And so I didn't want to write the whole Fayth thing anymore, but I needed the bridge. So.

Two ties and whatever became one tie. Not Ideal, but time to move on.
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Post by Switchgirl »

An excellent chapter - I loved the teasing via whatsapp and the relaxed meeting, travelling and going for a drink/ food, ramping up the sexual tension as both Brooke and Sonya just want to go at it like rabbits! :D
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Post by RopeBunny »

Switchgirl wrote: 1 week ago Brooke and Sonya just want to go at it like rabbits! :D
Rabbits :D

Which hopefully I'll do justice to such a statement below.

Thanks for commenting, as has been said- by me -before, I love doing the non TUGs stuff, the flirting and simple things like travelling or normal conversations.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Night one.
Start as you mean to go on?

We're staying in Dumbarton, on the wide banks of the Clyde, narrowing as it winds towards nearby Glasgow, our first official stop.

The views, so far Scotland is simply breathtaking on that front: hills and valleys, rivers sometimes leading to or seeming to stem from impressive lakes, water often still and perfectly reflective. Yes there are people, but the whole country seems to have this unspoilt feel.

And as eager as Sonya is, and I'm hardly an unwilling participant in what's to come. We spend well over an hour walking back to the tent. Distracted by castle walls, by the slowly flowing river. We stand, for an unknown- uncaring, minutes or hours -length of time, side by side linked by an arm cuddling the other close. Sonya's head on my shoulder, wind teasing our hair.

"S' nice."
"Peaceful." She agrees, tone mirroring mine, low. Quietly respectful of the silence all around. Smiling into the lens as I pull out my phone, hold it up and swipe through to the forward facing screen mounted camera. Taking a selfie of us both.

A perfect day.

Phone away, half turning to better jam the slim brick like thing into my jeans front pocket and Sonya turns too, inwards to face me our arms now around each others back, pressing crotch to crotch and breast to breast.

A signal more felt then said.

Kissing.

And as though waiting for a cue, but coming too early we're still on the path, not in the tent. The lust and want crashes down on us both. Sonya's hands up inside my tee even whilst my own are busy, fumbling and yanking at her belt and zip, pulling Sonya's jeans open and plunging inside.

Gasping into each other's mouths as she brutally- all lust and everything cranked to eleven without the gentle dance of preceeding teases -squeezes my nipple, twisting in that way I like.

As my fingers rub at her pussy, keeping out but stroking, up and down.

"Wait." Panting, in real danger of caving in and ceasing to care because she's still got my nipple in a vice like grip, still has it held like a tap you're forcing open. On.

And the sensation isn't going away because she isn't letting up or letting go. It just keeps building like a stoked fire, my arousal climbing so I'm still working Sonya's pussy, which loops back and around feeding her and so she's not letting go of me.

Caught in each others orbits.

"Hold on." Why though, screams a voice inside. Just go, fuck and strip and let her bite and twist and tie and gag and have you.

Don't stop.

Biting my lip though as Sonya- finally -let's go, stepping back my hand leaving her thong and she's breathing fast too, her blood up.

But she nods, and swapping grins we rearrange clothing, hold hands and set off.

Taking the time to visit the shower block, knowing we'll regret it if not: teeth brushing and faces wiped clean, showers tomorrow.

And.

Finally.

Just the two of us, in the tent all alone and I know what Sonya wants. Prehaps not the specifics but I know the general flow of her desires.

So I strip, not waiting for her to ask. Shedding boots and jeans, casting tee and bra, my thong and everything becoming an untidy pile beside the zipped closed door.

I'll sort it out tomorrow.

And by the time I'm done Sonya's removed her boots and jacket too, plus her tee to leave her looking very fetching in faded black jeans and a purple bra.

"I'll go easy on you." Stepping closer, pair of metal cuffs in her hand. "Since you've been up early. Driving all day."
"Riding." The correction a subconscious thing: drive a car ride a bike.

Licking my lips.

Not a shoot, and I'm not spoiling the moment with talk of limits and asking after her plan. Butterflies, eye's feeling large and fixed on the dull metal loops.

"Just." A shrug. "Whatever."

Regarding me Sonya nods, her eyes wide too. Looking at me and the air thick with soon to be released tension, the tent suddenly stuffy, too hot despite I'm naked.

Because I'm naked?

And what am I to her? What is she to me? There's no commitment, no talk of a future and yet Sonya keeps returning, and I keep letting her have me, however she wants.

Do I trust her, is that it?

Am I really, her words, the most submissive submissive she's ever come across?

Thoughts, a train leading nowhere looping and eating its own tail. Thoughts vanishing as Sonya, suddenly behind me snaring my arms. Feeling and hearing the metal on metal clicking, the coldness encircling both wrists. Pinching tight.

The capture bringing instant clarity like soothing rain washing all else away. I don't care, not the why or the how. Reason doesn't matter.

Sonya wants me.

I'm willing- forced by a stronger will or not -to submit.

End, of, story.

Hands reaching around. Press of her body against me, brushing my hair so it all tumbles down over the right shoulder freeing the left for her face to hover.

Kissing my neck as her hands find my breasts. Teasing strokes and squeezes, cupping them as though feeling the weight. I sigh, leaning back into her as Sonya let's go with one hand which snakes down between us, fumbling.

Taking hold of my wrists as she presses back in close, guiding them, me, down into her now open jeans.

Her hands finding my nipples as I discover her pussy.

She twists and I gasp, the pain sudden and welcomed and I'm thrusting my belly out in order to press my chest in closer. Offering.

And in response Sonya twists more, harder. Lighting me up even whilst I slip two fingers awkwardly yet determined inside her. Stroking, teasing and playing.

"Make me cum." In my ear, loudly whispered she's beginning to pant. Voice gruff she's gone to that other place deep inside. All else erased only the Domme remaining.

"You." Stopping to plant a bite like kiss on my neck. The word: bitch, slut. Slave? Unsaid but there on her tongue. "I'm going to keep twisting your fucking nipples off until you make me cum."
"Yes." Panting too, the near constant pain making me wet, nipples throbbing.

Sonya keeps up the abuse, twisting, tugging. Letting go only to deliver a harsh stinging slap to one or the other. All while I manage, somehow to hold focus on my task. Fingers working, plunging in and out, curling around and up to find her clit.

Grabbing at my breasts as the climax tears through her. Nipples forgotten instead gripping and squeezing the whole of each canon. Hard, nails digging in and I cry out. Ecstasy and if she'd touched me in that moment I'd of climaxed too.

Just from that.

"Lay down." Fetching a second pair of cuffs whilst I climb up onto, kneeling before dropping forward to lay on our double bed. Staying still whilst Sonya secures my ankles within the steel hoops.

Waiting, rolling onto my side facing Sonya, now shed of clothes and flopping down beside me her E cups bouncing.

"Hey." Soft tone, the Domme, satisfied, fed and curled up once more.

"Evening."
"I'm going to gag you," and even without that commanding edge the words still jolt through me, throb of desire between my legs, pressing them together to heighten the feeling.

"But." Scooting closer, stroking hair off my face. "I like kissing you too, so."
"So you'll gag me later."
"So I'll gag you later." A nod, already moving in.

Kissing and feeling me up, smiling as she watches me squirm, running long nails down my breasts and belly, across my butt cheeks. Enjoying my body, taking whatever part of me she wishes.

Teasing me towards a climax.

Three.

Times. Only to back off, grinning at my moaned frustration. Playing me, proving the point: she's in charge.

"Please." Breathless, crotch pushed out ahead of the rest of me, legs spread as much as locked ankles will allow. I look at Sonya, lick my lips. "Please."
"Please...?"
"I want to cum."
"That right?"

Reaching, finger easily slipping inside me, contact on my clit like a bolt of lightning, there then gone.

"Fffuuuuuuuuccccckkkk." Fighting the cuffs and she let's me, rolling out of the way. Watching me struggle, reaching down with questing fingers and bending my legs, straining muscles to bring my limbs together in echo of a hogtie.

Touching, losing then finding the ankle cuffs again with sweaty fingers. Searching, hopeless but searching anyway.

Squirming. Flopping back defeated body straightening back out.

"Please."
"Say it again." Laid on her side, fingers stroking my breast. Small smile.

"Please." Licking dry lips, feeling small. Submissive, forced to beg. "Red."

Red? And Sonya frowns but only slightly, I keep the flow moving.

"I want. I'd." Small shiver as her nails trace but don't touch my nipple.

Fucking tease.

"Like. Fffuuuucccckk." Like a sigh, eyes slow blinking. "To cum. Please."
"You are such a fucking cute submissive."

Sharks grin, sudden on her mouth and moments later she's on me. Lunging, attacking with fingers and teeth. Biting my sore nipples, stroking my clit in furious in out motions.

I don't last long.

And in the aftermath Sonya ballgags me, laying in bed, spent, drifting and I don't fight, opening wide to accept the rubber ball, feeling the pinch as she buckles it tightly.

Wriggling closer when Sonya lays back down, arm burrowing under between me and the mattress, pulling me close.

Cuddling me, idly stroking my back whilst I softly moan in time to breathing.

And time passes in contented silence.

"I had a fantasy." Talking to me, staring at the ceiling. Stroking, cuddling. "I daydreamed that on this first night I'd lock you up."
"Ffggglllllmmmm." Nuzzling her neck with my gagged lips and rubbing an F cup against her E. "Rrrsssmmmnnfff."

Seems like she can tick that box.

"In my daydream. Fantasy." A small laugh, still staring at the ceiling lifting her free hand which twirls briefly about, dipping and diving before dropping back onto her belly.

"I kept you locked up all night." And I'm watching, so I see her lips quirk. A smile there then gone. "Forced you to sleep on the floor."

Like a slave. Unsaid.

Has she. Domme coming to Sonya as naturally as breathing. The thought sudden enough to make me blink: has Sonya ever actually had a proper slave?

And I'm already locked up, already- sort of and maybe just at the moment not for all time -hers. Sonya's words slip inside, dropping like a thud, making waves and I'm still baseline aroused. Still horny.

Still very much feeling submissive, and she hasn't demanded, hasn't beaten me into obedience.

Sh- stop it Brooke -ame.

But that doesn't mean I can't surrender anyway.

She sits up as I wriggle free, silent as I struggle to the edge of then off the bed, laying down on the plush carpet interior. All the comforts when you're glamping.

I roll and wriggle, making my way to the centre, a large thick wooden pillar, concreted into the ground to provide stability.

Rolling onto my side, facing the bed. Her. Waiting.

Sonya, she doesn't ask, check. She stands, fetches a third pair of cuffs, using these to hogtie me, wrists joined to ankles behind me, the pillar and my body now forming an unbroken gentle curve around it, laid on my side breasts and crotch pointed at the bed.

I am caught, able to wriggle and shift, but I can't get back into bed, can't sit up or stand up. Sonya now has total control.

"I will." Kneeling, bent forwards one hand on the carpet beside me, face right in front of mine breasts dangling behind it. Tempting and teasing.

Unreachable.

In her other the keys, dangled too on a black cord. "Release you in the morning."
"Sddggmmmnnn." I nod, gagged voice low. Moaning but no distress. Showing her- should she care -that's it's okay.

"You are." Kissing my cheek. "Definitely." My gagged lips. "The sexiest. Most amazing little submissive slut I have ever." A second kiss to my gagged lips. "Ever. Known. Brooke."

Standing, turning off the dim overhead lighting. Sonya climbs into bed.

Leaving me on the floor.

Body a fire of competing tingles.

Cheeks hot. Blushing.
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Post by Switchgirl »

Loved that! Definitely captured the freeing of the sexual tension/ lust! :D

And Brooke starting to submit again…
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Post by Caesar73 »

Another intense Chapter - and Brooke enjoys being wonderful Sub @RopeBunny !
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Post by RopeBunny »

Caesar73 wrote: 6 days ago Brooke enjoys being wonderful Sub
Switchgirl wrote: 6 days ago
And Brooke starting to submit again…
I glad you both enjoyed the chapter. Brooke being Domme will be a rare thing, so expect plenty more submissive play to follow.
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Post by RopeBunny »

016.

I should say I worried: that Sonya would wake late, dozing, leaving me locked up. Gagged. Making me wait.

I should say.

But I can't.

Uncounted nights sleeping caged, tied up and by this point the fitful cycle of restlessness before finally succumbing to tiredness, only to wake again shortly after due to the general discomfort of being bound. I'm used to it.

Is that bad?

I almost want her to oversleep. Part of me, buzzing and riding high, wants to be left here as dawn becomes proper morning. Birds singing and the tent slowly, naturally brightening. Sunlight warming the canvas, warming me where I lay. Naked and trapped.

Waiting, and not in the least upset by the fact.

Thoughts drifting, my body a rising ebbing flow of tingles discomfort and more general arousal from being left in this state. Wandering inside my own head and suddenly I stumble.

Was this a mistake?

Because I discover a traitorous thread forming: the deleted message and without invitation my body stretches, straining as though towards the phantom of not here her. Who has and likely would again lock me up.

I. Should've answered?

Shake of my head, a grimace. Cutting the cord like deleting the message. No.

Waiting, forced but content to do so.

Eventually Sonya stirs, and I can't help the immediate reaction as my submissiveness stirs too: head raised and small wriggle. A dog- slave -pleased to see it's owner.

Not even embarrassed by the fact, the analogy crossing my thoughts. Right now she is my owner. She locked me up, pet like for the night. And I remain so on her order. Her whim.

Watching, and slowly over the span of maybe a half hour Sonya shifts and groans, rolling from side onto her back one arm flung up across her face. Incoherent mumbles and rolling again. Soft snores as sleep briefly reclaims her.

Does she remember?

Yes. The lazy smile, knowing and pleased with herself, sitting up to stretch duvet falling to puddle about her waist, breasts exposed. That smile hardens my nipples.

She knew I was here.

Slipping out of bed and crossing the small space to me to kneel, then all the way down so she's laid beside me. Keys on that black cord, around her neck like teasing or proving something.

Reaching around to unbuckle the gag which she tosses towards the bed, no effort or pretense made to unlock me.

"Morning." Head resting on a stretched out arm, her other the hand loosely cupping my skinny waist.

"Morning." Working my jaw. "Red."
"Right...." Thoughtful, small smile or at least her already there smile- look at you all locked up and all mine -growing slightly at my use of, well.

A term of affection you could say.

I can see her, smile becoming a frown. Thinking and I'm opening my mouth to say. B. Not wanting to because yes others have used my shortened name, but the issue is, she used it.

However.

"Blue."
"Bl," Blinking, caught out. "Blue?"
"Sure." Looking anything but though. Biting her lip. "Is that alright?"
"Yes."

Red and Blue, our non regulation hair and there's a certain symmetry. I like it.

"Am I," raised eyebrow, "overstepping?"

By not automatically and immediately freeing me?

"Not yet." Stretching within my bonds, Sonya's hand slipping from waist to butt as my crotch moves closer and I smile. "Since you're asking."
"So I could just take instead."
"I'll let you know." She hadn't asked if she could take, which is probably for the best.

For my sake.

"Ha." Amused, taking a breast in her hand and lifting it, licking the nipple and there's no way I can stop the satisfied moan escaping. "That's cute. Blue."
"Well." Shifting, I can't stay still under Sonya's touch. "I am known for being adorable."
"Yes." Pressing herself fully against me, a kiss to suck out all my breath, real feeling and passion, pulling away to look me in the eye. "You're definitely something."

"Ready to start the day?"
"Wash?" Unlocked, standing and working the kinks out, turning to find Sonya offering up yesterday's tee, which I take before slipping into small grey spandex shorts and my unlaced boots.

"Figure breakfast in Glasgow?" Wearing the same combo, both of us having bought tiny shorts solely for morning walks to the various shower blocks. The tent, all the tents we're staying in we've paid extra for towels.

One less thing to pack.

So with one each slung over shoulders and a bag of toothpaste and brushes, shower gel in hand. We set off across the site.

"Early lunch?" I shrug, stretching some more out in the sun, loving how it feels against my bare limbs. "Sounds like a plan."
"Great."

What time even is it? Do I care?

Finding the showers deserted, a long room, toilet cubicles and sinks at one end, row of shower stalls each one behind a door at the other. I grin, pulling a willing Sonya into a stall behind me. Closing the door.

We strip off in the small space, just a bench and hook on the closed door, shower area barely big enough for two but fuck it. Clothes piled atop the bench, giggling and then Sonya yelping surprise and outrage as I push her under the still cold water.

Jumping out and I, deep breath, step under instead, locking down the urge to jump back out too because. Fuck, me. I reach out a hand.

"Come here."
"Fucking." Shaking her head. "Mad."

But she steps back under, a sigh as she finds the water- slowly -warming up.

Washing each other. Soap slicked hands roaming and sliding over soft skin, pushing Sonya back against the wall, pouring almost half the bottle down her, not caring, using my body to rub it off. Kissing often. Grinning, laughing as I almost slip.

And.

"Hey." Thick accent, somewhere Midlands. "Are you two fucking in there?"

Followed by laughter. Girls. One of the hens?

"No." Sonya, blushing. I grin.

"Maybe."

More laughter from outside our stall door, followed by a trio of bangs to the thin wood.

"Open up." A laugh, and at the same time a loud shush. "Jemma says she wants to join in."
"I do not." Which, the denial spoiled by more laughter.

And we're stood under the cascading water, naked and Sonya's hand cupping my face mid kiss, my own frozen in the act of rubbing her pussy.

Cleaning, honest.

Sonya looks at me, unsure. But I grin.

The door making a whoosh sound as I pull it open, stepping out in one fluid move. Luckily not slipping or falling.

"Come on then." Naked, water dripping off my heavily left side inked size six frame, my F cups like the canons I pretend them to be, loaded. Pointing. Dyed blue hair, white tips dripping too and behind me, sensing then feeling Sonya, not as bold hiding herself behind me but one arm snaking around my waist.

"Jemma?" Hand out and smiling, offering- maybe challenging -and the closest girl utters a nervous laugh, the two behind wearing matching shocked expressions.

Suddenly all three erupting into shrieks of laughter, turning and piling out of the block.

"You're crazy Blue."
"Yes I am. Red." Nudging Sonya back inside, closing the door.

Limited packing space, so we've both had to think carefully regarding clothes. Especially since Sonya needed- not simply wanted, to bind me but there are shoots planned -to bring rope and such, and I needed to bring two cameras and the laptop. We'll wash as we go, chucking clothes into the shower before hanging them in the tent, maybe not ideal but needs must.

Careful, but neither of us wants to wear jeans everyday, but we have to on bike days like tomorrow.

But today we'll take the train, so we can drink, and dress up.

Sonya's skirt is pleated, slipping on and buckling tight on one side at the waist. A very alternative tartan pattern all black with white and pink lines, some luminous green too. Its short, and paired with a dark red tee on which white skeletal hands cup her breasts.

I'm wearing a dress. Black, the material spandex stretchy meaning it clings to me, thin straps and sleeveless with a low scooped neckline. Hem halfway between knees and ankles, a split running halfway up at the back.

We're both wearing thongs, though I'm braless because the tight dress will show it.

Not at all because I'm a shameless tease.

Boots, because we've no room to bring anything else, and jackets because yes it's sunny but we're far north, so there's an ever present chill wind too.

In high spirits we walk to the station in Dumbarton, catching a train into Glasgow. We take my messenger bag, all shades of green camouflage, it's smaller then Sonya's backpack and therefore easier to carry. A chore we'll share since both out phones and other assorted junk are inside.

On the train, a small three car commuter class which starts and stops seemingly everywhere, we sit together. Facing the wrong way and Sonya let's me have the window but then bundles in all close, staring too. Watching the changing landscape trees and hills giving way to various villages and towns.

Her pointing random things out, making small talk.

Eventually, Glasgow swallows us up, slowly to a crawl on approach. We navigate the concourse, stopping at the bathrooms before stepping outside.

Hungry we head towards the river, hoping for and finding several food options from chain restaurants to boutique eateries, settling on 'Wrapped Up' mostly, at first because neither of us can say the name without giggling and nudging the other suggestively. It sells, wraps, Sonya going for one stuffed full of breakfast items whilst I go for the chicken salad option.

We sit outside, taking our time.

After which, shopping follows food. But not mainstream shops, Sonya and me shun the high street diving down alleys.

Discovering a record- music yes, but old vinyl only -shop, which yes. So much yes. And browsing the dance slash hip hop section, an original N.W.A tucked under my arm I watch, smiling as Sonya and the bearded owner have an animated discussion regarding her find: a limited edition War Of The Worlds, the white sleeve case thick and inside the original artwork and storyline, beautifully done and laid out across multiple pages.

Luckily he, for a reasonable fee, is willing to send by post. And I suggest both to me to save on cost.

Neither of us stopping to consider the fact Sonya now needs to come visit me, again, to pick it up. A never ending circle because if she, when, she visits of course we'll play. And so on, and on.

A swimwear shop and I squeal in delight, grinning upon discovering they only sell bikinis as separates. Usually I have to buy two pairs, six for the bottoms and larger tops to accommodate my large bust.

I wind up buying three tops and three bottoms, plus persuading- not exactly hard -Sonya to pick a set for herself.

We find a gaming shop where anything we would buy is just too large, and we forget to ask after delivery. And Sonya almost. Almost, gets herself inked. But she both can't find something ideal, caught between ideas and keeps losing her nerve.

"So don't worry." Walking away, and we've got a train to catch soon. "Maybe I'll get one too?"
"Really?" Hopeful smile, I guess watching me get a new tattoo would help?

"Sure." Nodding. "Give me a couple of days to figure out what, and." Glancing down at myself. Laughing. "Where."

Lastly a tiny little place selling handmade posh chocolates, that Sonya wanders off and into whilst I carry on walking, believing her still beside me. Talking to her.

Honestly.

We buy some for later, because I'll be drunk and won't care.

Drunk because we're going to the races. The Speedway arena just north of the city. Bikes, crazy fast running looped circuits on a mud track, almost permanently cornering. Drifting. Leaning. Food from the burger van out front between races and drinks from the bar. Lots of drinks.

We cheer ourselves hoarse, picking who to support by some random system or other: everything from the colour of the jerserys to some guy with the same name as Sonya's dad. Sometimes I, drunk, get all vocal regarding the make of bike.

Somehow, blurred by drink and yet somehow we steer each other true, we make it home. Scoffing chocolate on the train and loudly shushing each other, plus an owl and a bunch of equally drunk lads stumbling back on site too.

Who shush us back.

Finding our tent and falling inside, zipping it closed and turning to find Sonya already naked and emerging from the tiny bathroom section.

"Blue." Arms out, gesturing come here even whilst laying down on the bed. "Come cuddle me, I want kisses."
"Coming Red." Happy, we're both far too wasted for rope play there's no way I could manage even a simple binding. Too much concentration I'd fall asleep halfway through.

Not- we've got a shoot tomorrow anyway, and that's almost as good as playing -tonight.

Stripping, I use the bathroom before climbing in beside Sonya, and after sharing a drunken fumble, managing nothing more then groping each others breasts and dry humping.

We fall asleep in a tangle of limbs.
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BlissfulMisery
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

RopeBunny wrote: 6 days ago as has been said- by me -before, I love doing the non TUGs stuff, the flirting and simple things like travelling or normal conversations.
Like it very much myself - especially the details you often throw in, even if they are not 'important'

Enjoyed the somewhat poetic style of the first chapter. Not exactly the right term for it perhaps, but the descriptions definitely evoked the right peaceful naturesque atmosphere.
Switchgirl wrote: 6 days ago The capture bringing instant clarity like soothing rain washing all else away. I don't care, not the why or the how. Reason doesn't matter.
Liked this especially!

And a great scene to release all the building tension between them, with Sonya playing Brooke like a fiddle :)
RopeBunny wrote: 6 days ago Sh- stop it Brooke -ame.
:lol:

The second part was excellent as well. More subdued, relaxed, but interesting all the same. The two of them bonding over shared experiences (in more ways then one I suppose :P)

Overall they are having quite the trip!
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