GreyLord wrote: ↑2 years ago
Your writing is very claar, [mention]Beaumains[/mention]. You bring your reader into the scene like the reader was there as an observer.
Bree, while still holding her uncertainties, appears to be actively trying to fit in. I'm looking forward to your next chapter.
Thank you so much! That means a lot to me.
Caesar73 wrote: ↑2 years ago
Bree is trying to adjust to the situation, that she has still mixed feelings about what is happening is perfectly understandable. This is still a new world for her. Getting used to that world must pose a challenge for her - and you capture that process very well [mention]Beaumains[/mention]
Thanks a lot! It is fun to write from her novice perspective, so avoiding any jargon, in a quite hard-core environment.
Mineira1986 wrote: ↑2 years ago
Now that's an interesting game.
It's going to be interesting to see how Bree can do without any of her closer allies/friends. I can only hope she enjoys herself, after all, it's Thanksgiving.
Spoiler-alert, the next chapter will mostly about that game. It was fun to come up with, but I have no idea how practical it would be. Ah well, it's a fictional story. Thank you for your continued support.
Tieup1 wrote: ↑2 years ago
Bree seems to be doing well, adapting to the challenges. She must find it hard being an outsider, and trying to fit in. It must be difficult for her, she is in a completely different world to what she is used to.
Thank you for your comment. It is indeed not easy for Bree, but some fear has disappeared as she understand these people will not hurt her directly and immediately.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Aoife shuffled aside as Ambrose inserted one of the longer rods from 10-black to 20-purple. It was a diagonal in all three dimensions and crossed our rod in the middle of the cage. Being cuffed to the floor and top, the red-haired girl had to choose a side to move to, and she picked the side where both pipes went up.
“What’s next?” I asked Remy. The big bald man looked bold and coarse, so of the type that I would ordinarily avoid.
“I’ll go for 18-yellow,” he replied.
The second person to call an attachment point was the most crucial, and Remy gladfully handed that responsibility to me. I made eye contact with Aoife, and she gave a gentle nod. My hesitation was apparent, and her nude body still discomforted me. While I interpreted this as an abstract game and ignored the context, I could persevere. “6-red.”
I selected one of the shorter rods and pushed it through the pipe. It was heavy, about 40 pounds, and my arm trembled as I forced it through. Inside the cage, every vibration multiplied, and then it happened. I hit Aoife. On her breast of all places. It pushed into the right – they were not small – and shoved her back as she produced a squeak.
“Sorry, sorry,” I exclaimed as I struck the rod further for Remy to catch it and secure it on his side. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“Aoife, you okay?” Cecilia queried casually.
She nodded another time, and I could swear she smiled under her gag.
“You see, everything’s fine,” she said. “Nothing to worry about.”
I sighed and let my mind return to the game. Concentrating on winning would draw my mind from the situation’s peculiarities. Aoife’s upper body was now forced into a triangle she could not escape anymore. She fitted three times in the area, so Ambrose and Cecilia could not win in one turn. Every rod could still be placed. Hence, the opposing team moved downward and forced a rod between her legs at ankle height. We followed their example, forming a cross.
“Bree, we forgot to explain one rule,” Ambrose said. “Each turn must add more restrictions to Aoife. Otherwise, it’s too easy to skip a turn and let the other team take the risk.”
I agreed, and both teams added more constraints to the girl’s feet before moving up to her legs. Here, the game plan became evident. First, Ambrose and Cecilia placed a rod behind her knees before adding one that would have had to go through her hips. As her feet were fixed, she had to decide: lean forwards or backward. Aoife grasped the chains and dropped back to allow the rod through. She had to balance on her toes and rely on her flexibility to survive much longer.
“Don’t try to finish it off. It’s too early,” Remy whispered before he outlined a ruthless plan.
“Yellow-3,” I announced, adhering to my teammate’s plan, and Cecilia grinned. The two men lifted the pole, and for the first time, Aoife hesitated for a moment as the rod approached her crotch. Then she pulled herself up on the chains, waited until the rod was fastened, and lowered herself on the pole. Her weight rested on one butt cheek, the least bad option.
The next pole of Cecilia and Ambrose was aimed a foot above ours, and Aoife had to dodge it creatively again. Leaning with her right leg on our rod, she let her fall to the side until the ankle chain was tight and hung by the wrist chains.
“Time for the final blow,” Remy cheered before I guessed a number and color. He named his, and Aoife could never evade it. We pointed it right at her chest, and in her position, the chains had lost the slack they had once enjoyed.
I turned to Cecilia. “Eh, did we win?” I inquired. I had likely forgotten a rule.
“Not yet. Let me try something,” Cecilia disagreed as she stepped through the cage’s bars. She puzzled her way through the 15 rods until she reached Aoife. Gripping her with both hands, she twisted the bound girl’s body ninety degrees as Ambrose forced the rod further, and it slid past her pale skin. Ambrose walked around the cage and jerked the rod further to the right and up, not caring about Aoife’s chest and bare breasts. He had to reach the pipe the rod had to enter. “A little farther up,” Cecilia instructed as Aoife’s body was pressed together, and the rod slid in. The screws were tightened. Cecilia let go of the freckled girl and strode out of the cage.
“We win!” she proclaimed with a smile of a parent beating up their 4-year-old in chess. “Or should we still try?”
A grunt behind her interrupted Cecilia’s sheer joy. The steel crushed Aoife together, and although she carried little flesh, the cuffs pressured her wrists.
“Well played,” Ambrose said as he shook Remy’s and my hand. “You got close, but Aoife is much more flexible than she seems.”
I nodded, and with the game finished, I regained my blurred vision. This was wicked and outrageous. Aoife, a human being, had been treated like a ragdoll, and I was responsible as well. Sadly.
Cecilia snapped a few pictures with her phone before she checked in on Aoife. Ambrose and Remy had perceived the problem too and began removing the poles from the bottom down, setting them on the floorboard. Gradually, Aoife regained the ability to stand on her feet and retract her stretched body. I did nothing but watch and hated that, despite it being a two-person job.
“Had fun?” Ambrose asks as he unlocked the cuffs that Aoife up. She nodded as she went to the ground. “Need a drink?” Her head bent forward once more. “Good girl.” He patted her head before releasing the ball from her mouth. Saliva dripped off.
I swung around to walk back to the couch when I spotted Talon and Isabelle on the floor. With pleasure, our game had been watched. I reddened, which I sought to conceal by sitting down and slowly drinking from my orange juice. Meanwhile, gulped a glass of water before lazing down on the mattress next to Isabelle. Apparently, she also was not allowed onto the furniture.
“Ce, we had ordered tea and cake at four, hadn’t we?” Ambrose said to my hostess. They formed a couple.
Cecilia confirmed it and pressed a few buttons on her phone. I had suspected some sort of delivery had been delayed, but a woman appeared a few seconds later. Her ankle-long black dress with white petticoat resembled the Maiden’s waitresses but was much less revealing. The collar closed at her neck, and her sleeves reached her hands.
“Miss, how can I be of service?”
“We would love to have tea and cake. Would that be possible?”
“Miss, as you wish. Please, provide me a moment.”
Fifteen minutes later, my fork pinched for the second time in the red velvet cake and let the sweetness roll in my mouth. It melted. I could not comprehend what was going on. Cheyenne had to miss out on the cake as part of her punishment and was still tied to the pillar. The two other naked girls scoffed and quaffed on the mattress.