Bound to be Dared (F/self, F/F)

[Beaumains]

Only one car occupied the fifth parking lot this late Sunday afternoon: the one I had hoped to see. Or better, the one I had wished for. Riley’s shiny black Mazda stood in sharp contrast to my dented yellow Toyota. I parked next to hers. Was my idea foolish? Was it worth it? Yes and no, but I craved confirmation. Time for a walk. The marks of her boots led into the woods, and I followed them as my heart pounded in my throat.

Riley’s easy-to-track ankle boots soon exchanged the well-threaded trail for a narrow alleyway through young beeches. I tried to quietly tiptoe while brushing my body past the rustling branches. Unable to see further than 25 feet in every direction, she had hoped for (and expected) life-saving privacy. No random passerby would ever face her, but luckily, I knew which footprints to track. I sneaked over a ridge, searching for long strawberry-blonde hair.

My head popped around a thick birch tree, and the unnatural color of red rubber caught my eye. Baby pink lips and soft, spotless skin surrounded the ball. Riley’s strawberry blonde hair hung silently in the fresh air. Instinctively, I dodged behind a tree, peeking around it with a single eye. Riley was here, and she was obeying my instructions. A long black strip of fabric was wrapped multiple times over her eyes, so my weak attempt to hide had been unnecessary. My manager was squatting down, naked from the waist down, chained to the ground, and gazed calmly towards her unsought visitor. Her hands were cuffed to their respective ankles. The chain between her wrists ran underneath a tree root, keeping her fixed. Roughly, because the bonds were not tight enough to take all her movement away. She could shift, taking the easiest route to her subspace away. I had been cruel.

Even more perverse, I stared straight into my clueless manager’s pussy. Sure, Riley still wore her olive green fleece jacket she had worked in all day, but I saw enough to ruin her career. With my phone, I could make a video and send it to her anonymously. I could steal her work pants, panties, ankle boots, or socks she had flung on a tree trunk with her phone and car keys. Of course, my intentions were not malicious, so Riley’s fear would be misplaced. It would be an extraordinary scene and my most wicked deed. What a way to learn your employee had the same obscure hobby. Only the last rational, non-horny voice in my head assured me that she would be only terrified and anything but aroused. Being stuck in such a vulnerable position with a stranger was a nightmare. Riley would fire me immediately, and she was lovely for a manager.

I kept fantasizing about the woman before me. My manager sat on the moss, grunting on the rubber every dozen seconds as she could not find a comfortable stance. Sure, she had heard me, but forests are never noiseless. Soon, Riley would convince herself she had perceived an animal, ghost, or nothing. Paranoia is strange. The calm Riley suggested she still believed to be alone. Now, I could replace the red rubber ball between her jaws with one gray sock, and those frilly pink panties fitted too. The taste would be horrid. With the duct tape from my car, they would stay there until her hands were freed, and that would not happen soon. Ice always melts slower than you want, and a small block hanging around her neck held the key to her getaway. It was a single master key for all little padlocks. Her fingers grabbed it occasionally, testing whether the ice was melting or trying to figure out whether melting it with her hands was worth it. Repeatedly, she decided to speed up her escape before rediscovering that the ice was still cold.

It still surprised me how well Riley had obeyed an internet stranger. Her reports were always delightful, and I trusted them. The facts, honesty, and the lack of unbelievable drama had convinced me that B0undB0ndGir7 was legit long ago. Riley had always considered every dare, doing as requested while changing minor details to make it work, and admitted when she failed or chickened out. She did not overhype herself nor set unrealistic expectations. In our online dare group, we only added people to our inner circle chats when we believed them. Still, seeing it in action was odd. B0undB0ndGir7 caught my attention last month, and now, I gaped right into her private area and could touch them and run away before she could remove her blindfold. I loved my intrusive thoughts.

The pictures we posted as proof of our naughty stunts were anonymized by blurring faces and recognizable places. Yet, in some images, Riley had included her back with a tiny purple butterfly tattoo on the spine, including one where she lay spread-eagled on her salmon-pink carpet last month. One lunch, she told me about her tattoo. It had made me suspicious fate wanted to enlighten me that my direct boss was far from innocent. I matched her hair, the post times to her work schedule, the backgrounds with the local vegetation, and the birthmark on her hand to the anonymous pictures. Even her catchphrases corresponded to her online persona. Riley was B0undB0ndGir7, and I had enough evidence to persuade any jury I had a case beyond reasonable doubt.

I knew much more about her – being honest online is painless – than she had shared at work. Her fears, hopes, annoyances, love life, and disappointments were now known to her subordinate. How humiliating. At work, she was great. She was not as demanding or belittling as other managers when you stood still to write you up as if that motivated anyone. She was strict while also comprehending that boosting morale could be beneficial. She handed out snacks after long, busy days but forced anyone she disliked to clean the animal enclosures. She was my boss, but now I knew what a submissive slut she actually was.

As these thoughts bounced through my head, my eyes fixated on the bound woman. My plan to get the final proof had worked. I had posted the forest dare (she did not live close by) involving a blindfold where I had sufficient time to catch her red-handed. She would do it on Sunday after work, as the garden center closed early at 7 PM. Checking the trailheads of the nearest woods had worked out magically.

Afraid she could tear off the blindfold with her cuffed hands, I gave her one last look before returning to the car. I photographed her Mustang to have non-incriminating proof I had found her and drove home blushing and screaming with laughter. Mission accomplished.

[LunaDog]

Interesting. VERY, interesting!

[Beaumains]

Interesting. VERY, interesting!

Thanks a lot!

[tickletied84]

Wonderful, the intrigue and the mystery of the voyeur is fantastic, and the thought process - from kind, to kinky, to inquisitive is great!

[GreyLord]

This story has a very different flavor compared to your others, @Beaumains. Well done!

[RopeBunny]

Brilliant.

Plenty of detail, and well written style. Easy to follow and I genuinely wanted to know what was going to happen next.

And next.

Will there be more?

Thank you for posting.

[Beaumains]

This story has a very different flavor compared to your others, @Beaumains. Well done!

Thanks a lot. I wanted to be a little more sexual in this story, which i have not really tried before.

Brilliant.

Plenty of detail, and well written style. Easy to follow and I genuinely wanted to know what was going to happen next.

Thanks a lot!

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While pricing down the most miserable geraniums, a hand clasped the trolley with the plants only a vengeful idiot would buy for their ex. “What can I do for you?” I spoke with a fake friendly – I mean customer-orientated – smile. I turned around, annoyed my rhythm of placing stickers on the plastic pots had been interrupted.

An olive green polo shirt and strawberry-blonde hair leaned in. “Cyan, can you come to the office for a sec?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, give me two minutes. Then I am finished with the repricing,” I told Riley, my manager, who I had seen tied up in the forest last week. I concentrated on the plants to avoid her eyes.

“Then we do it here,” Riley smiled. “You have been with us now, what? Two years, haven’t you? And your performance has always been excellent. You’ve been a great addition to the team. You’re lovely and knowledgeable. How are your studies going?”

Is this how you fire me? How rude. “Good. Grades are fine, and it’s still fun. After the summer, I only have two semesters left.”

“Awesome. Great to hear! However, I wanted to ask you something else,” Riley continued, pausing. “You’ve been acting a little off for the past few weeks. You seem more silent and avoid colleagues. Out of curiosity, is there anything going on in your life? I respect your privacy, but I should know if you need my help. Do you understand?”

I nodded. Telling Riley I had seen her breasts turn purple with the right amount of elastic bands was likely the wrong answer. “That’s strange. Everything’s fine. Not much happened to me. Thanks for asking.”

“Really? No bad news or good news? Have you finally found better roommates or a nice boyfriend? Or a girlfriend, for all I care.”

I was unsure whether the worker’s manual permitted Riley to inquire about these matters. “No, nothing. Same old me. I can’t even imagine what has changed.” The true answer was that her top 5 favorite vibrators included a yellow and duck-shaped one she had used last weekend after taping herself to a chair. Saying this would provide a spectacular exit from this job. I laughed sheepishly at the thought of revealing the despicable truth now.

“Come on, what’s that about?” Riley queried. I was a dreadful liar. Even a toddler would deduce something was off. “Let me join the fun.”

I lifted one of the small geranium plants, two dollars instead of five. Yet, the seven stems contained as many leaves, and some were wrinkled and yellow. “This. Can you imagine walking past the aisle and believing it will brighten your porch?”

Riley’s chuckle was fake. “Dad should sometimes stop squeezing every odd penny out of this business. Mom and I try to remind him, but you know I told you the story of his youth. Throwing stuff away is not in his DNA.” She picked up the plant and broke its stem. It would no longer be sold. I had watched her face before flushing, envisioning this sweet, assuring smile combined with the close-ups of the same lips around a steel ring gag.

“Cyan, please, I can’t believe nothing is going on. It’s me, in particular, isn’t it? Have I wronged you somehow? Or did our coworkers mention anything about me? No need to mention names. But why me? You have trouble looking me in the eyes.”

I raised my shoulders, focusing my gaze on the brown-leaved plants. B0undB0ndGir7 slept in a custom-made pink pajama. In shiny gold lettering like cheap children’s clothing, reading “Sleep tight, bondage slut.” It was cute and made me slightly jealous. Her standard night attire included a matching sleep mask, a leather collar, and fluffy wrist and ankle cuffs with rope links. Her cats would not cuddle against the cold steel. Unbeknownst to her, her dirtiest secrets were all floating in front of my eyes.

“Any hint?” Riley pressed slightly nervously. “Please, I want to make this workplace as pleasant as possible for everyone.”

For a second, I contemplated telling her how braindead this job was, grinding away hours to burn the money with rent, bills, gas, groceries, tuition, and textbooks to get out after graduation. Yet, I should not ask for a raise because 30 cents an hour makes no difference. It would only make me susceptible to extra scrutiny whether I did not slack off or spend two minutes extra for lunch. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. If anything is going on in my private life, I will take care of it. It will not affect my performance or interactions with customers.”

Riley smirked and touched my shoulder. “Your performance is no concern, just our personal relationship. If I made a mistake, tell me, will you? I can handle criticism, so don’t expect consequences. I ain’t trying to play dictator.”

I nodded. Riley was not a power-hungry asshole trying to compensate for something like most other managers. “I will, thanks.”



At 9 PM, my four-hour evening shift finally ended, allowing me to jump in my car and decide on my evening snack. The passable sandwich provided by the garden center for dinner was insufficient to survive the night. After six hours of professors overflooding me with painfully difficult ideas and standing for four hours straight at my side job, cooking was too much effort. Takeaway would take most of my hard-earned money. I wanted to sit and then lie down. At home, I had made my mind up, boiled water, and cooked shrimp-flavored instant ramen while booting up my laptop. As per usual, I opened our site, not expecting much newsworthy.

Layla from Germany had a long post with herself cuffed naked to twenty different traffic signs. Her boyfriend had kept her bound longer than directed, and one late-night truck had spotted her and honked. Layla usually posted them to her paid account on another website (which I can sadly not mention here) and showed her face. I loved she had gained enough following to go professional.

Next, DestressWithDistress from rural Idaho worked at a local hotel. She often started early, having the afternoon off, and had reported on a mile-long nude and cuffed run that afternoon. Thus, she had dropped off the key, ran a mile, stripped naked and applied the cuffs, ran back to the key to unlock the cuffs, and finally retrieved her clothes. The risk was low, but if it went wrong, it could end horribly. It was a classic dare.

1Tie4Sky, our coder and server moderator, had posted an update in our private forum that we now had 50 paid followers. They had access to many stories, photos, and essays and could propose dares and vote in all polls. Six dollars times fifty is a noticeable monthly income, but subtracting server costs and dividing by 11 meant a 20-dollar gift card roughly every other month.

Next, I sieved through my PMs from non-paying members outside our group, most commonly horny, desperate dudes. They would dare me to send them nudes, control my remote vibrator, take part in their weird and gross fetishes, or send me my real name so they could play a ‘game’ of blackmail with me. Nothing that did not keep my private parts as dry as the Sahara desert.

I sent two paying members a faceless nude I made a few days back before returning to our private chats. At first, there was nothing special until I came across a message from B0ndB0ndGir7:

Hey, guys. Please give me something to do tonight. I had a shitty day at work. One of my employees is acting weird. She cannot look me in the eyes without blushing, denying anything is going on. It’s just me and her. I’ve not done dares there in the past month, so I’ve no clue what her deal is. If something has leaked, I’m done for. How would you punish this bad boss?

I responded with a hugging emoji, and DestressWithDistress formulated a fitting reply.

So, BBG, you fear your employee has discovered you are a bondage slut? That’s a proper workplace scandal. Strip to your panties, put your vibrator on medium and insert it, gag yourself with your dirty socks, and tie yourself to the chair. Then write 200 times: “I’m a slutty boss, which the entire world should know.” If you cum, write another 100 lines.

DestressWithDistress also suggested a 90-minute bondage video to put on in the background. Poor Riley. I felt awful for her but had lacked the courage. A few more chats and updates were all interesting until I saw a message from Layla tagging me:

@BoldFromTheBlue, any update on your quest for love? Two weeks left.

My mood darkened, and the weight of the day fell onto me as I was reminded of my long-time dare. It was not extreme nor brazen: Have bondage sex you enjoy. This might seem the dumbest dare ever, but Sky had given it to me for a reason.

I had no satisfying adventure with a boy for the past few years. My two boyfriends had not been into bondage. One, Dylan, did not see the appeal. When I moved to a more kinky dating app, Jackson desired a different relationship. After a month, I did the chores and cooking while he lay on the couch, emptying bags of chips because “a true sub wants to please her master, who then decides whether she has earned an orgasm.” Yikes. I wanted tight bondage and good sex and got neither from Jackson. The hook-up that earned me the dare was a guy who bragged about being good with ropes but had never seen a chick naked before. Awkward.

I replied. No luck this week. Honestly preferable over that guy last week. Yeah, he had pulled out before I came, leaving me anything but satisfied. If I failed this entire month of May, Sky would pick a site where I had to create a profile, share my chat, and use her suggestions. I would not let that happen.

[GreyLord]

From a walk in the woods to a plant nursery, you continue to weave an interesting tale, @Beaumains.

[captured_prize]

Interesting read, it's definitely one of the more unique stories I've read on here.

[RopeBunny]

Great update, happy to see the story continue.

Liked the choices of usernames, something like this I enjoy doing too, a chance to be creative.

Interesting to read at the very end there regarding the long term dare, setting a scene and catching my interest as to what might happen. You of course have multiple avenues to take this, which is prefect as it leaves me wondering.

Looking forward to reading more.

[Beaumains]

From a walk in the woods to a plant nursery, you continue to weave an interesting tale, @Beaumains.

Interesting read, it's definitely one of the more unique stories I've read on here.

Yeah, I am trying a few things out. Not sure if it will work out, but we will see.

Liked the choices of usernames, something like this I enjoy doing too, a chance to be creative.

Yeah, that's always fun. I have always trouble with this as so many good ones are already taken and I don't want people to Google them and find this unrelated tale.

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It was Saturday afternoon, and I fumbled a cold steel chain out of my bag. It was short, thin, flexible, and linked two cuffs together. I peeked around in the small park and saw the usual traffic on the road, an elderly couple walking the other away, and three cooks taking a smoke break behind their restaurant. Hundreds of feet behind me, a group of women stretched before a run. No one paid attention to me.

I slipped one cuff around my right ankle and tightened it. I needed a key to remove it but had not fully committed yet, as I could still stuff it in my shoe and walk away. I always loved this moment, pushing yourself to do something ridiculous, dumb, and useless, and this short burst of bravery had consequences for a far longer period. I snapped the other cuff shut around the leg of the park bench, fixing me to it. I put the jacket from my lap over the chain and backpack, covering my bounds. Time to escape.

The stack of papers, pencils, and a black plastic box beside me would be my way out. TeaseSqueezePlease, a history student and tourist guide from Italy, had prepared a set of sudokus, and the top row of one gave the digits for the digital lockbox holding the cuffs’ keys. I had locked it with a code she had sent and had to unlock one sudoku containing the key to open it. It would also provide a long string of digits, which I would send back. Encrypted in that information was the time and number of attempts I took to unlock it and how often the box had been locked with this code. We all had such a lockbox as it was reliable and created trustworthiness.

My low sneakers and ankle socks did not cover the metal and made me feel vulnerable. I was non-conforming and deviant, setting myself up for potential embarrassment. But that was not my plan. Our dares never aimed for people to see us but had to be risky. Involving strangers was never our goal, often illegal, and not fun. No, the threat was the thrill. You were in public with a secret, but no one paid attention and would not notice. No one should involve unwanting participants in their kinks.

I grabbed the ten puzzles, figuring out where I should start. They increased in difficulty, so a sane person would start with the easiest, hoping to be correct. I could be out in ten minutes. However, Tease had picked a puzzle. I loved the mind games. To torture me here as long as possible, she would select the sudoku I would do last, likely the hardest. That was too predictable. I could be stuck here for four hours if I chose wrongly. I went for puzzle 8, the one I would use for the code. I grabbed my headphones, put on a long playlist, and began breaking my head.

Soon, I had forgotten I was cuffed to a park bench and wore a medium-length skirt without panties and a thin black sweater to cover the rope harness underneath. I was engrossed by these 81 squares and did not care dozens of people passed by. I solved the puzzle in about 45 minutes, only to fail to open the lockbox.

I could be here for four or five hours if I kept gambling on the wrong numbers. Hence, I solved the simplest four puzzles next, taking about the same time, but the box remained locked. There was an emergency button, but I was far from using it. I was frustrated I had been outplayed while loving this kind of dare, as I lost control. Randomness added unexpected highs and lows, twists and turns, and uncertainty. So much more fun.

I started another puzzle, irked, which ruined my concentration. In my peripheral vision, a guy in jeans passed by while walking a golden retriever. I did not mind that the animal approached me and petted the good boy on his shoulder until noticing his nose directed him to my bag. I had almost forgotten about Riley’s last-minute addition. I had to add a sandwich with strong-smelling sausage to my bag, and because it was only wrapped in paper, such a dog could easily smell it. His nose was already pressed against my jacket. If he pulled it away, the cuff would be in clear view.

“He found my lunch. What’s his name?” I asked in a friendly voice, hoping he missed my bonds and lack of underwear. Fake it till you make it. With one hand, I petted the sweet guy and held his head off with the other.

“Bella is her name,” the guy said. He was maybe 23, a few years older, slender, and good-looking. Well-maintained brown hair, thin round glasses, and a short-sleeved pastel green shirt created an intelligent, but not too nerdy or smug, look, like a teenager in a suit. “Lunch? Isn’t it four already?”

“Oh, yeah, forgot the time again. I also had a late breakfast,” I lied. Had he noticed anything?

The guy smirked, making me blush a little. Imagine him finding out and offering me to join him at home for more bondage. I wouldn’t mind. “That happens to me as well. Don’t forget it,” he winked. “Have a nice day. Good luck with your puzzles.”

“You too,” I said sheepishly, realizing my mistake too late. He noticed it, smiled, pulled Bella’s leash, and walked off. Had I missed a chance? I was too horny during this dare. Oh, yeah, the dare, I thought, returning to the sudoku. I had to escape, and fantasizing about being hogtied by him did not help. With a lot of effort, I solved the puzzle but remained stuck. I had been unable to predict TeaseSqueezePlease.

I sighed and grabbed the next puzzle while my mind was still roaming through many other kinky scenarios. I would love to be tied up, for real, by someone else. Being cuffed in public was fun, but seeing Layla play with her boyfriend and others hooking up made me jealous. Sky had given me that long dare for a reason. I knew no one trustworthy in this city who was into tying up girls. My dating had not been successful.

Then I recalled my last weekend’s encounter with Riley, AKA B0undB0ndGir7, in the woods. She was perfect, save for being able to ruin my finances in a single sentence. Summer was coming, and I would spend it working full-time at the garden center. If I only knew the answer to this question before asking it.

How? Dare her to answer a truth without revealing my identity or making her paranoid.

I had to write a scenario. Like you, the girl who grew up in the house next door returned home for the holidays and caught your self-bondage. She rings the bell, tells what she has seen, and requests to be tied up. What do you do?

No, that would not work. Besides, it was not the holiday season. I needed something less direct where giving a bondage scenario would be an answer. You know, let’s take a risk. A quiet coworker approaches you, claiming they have recognized you on our site and would want to try out bondage. You never spoke much, and relationships are banned on the work floor. How do you approach the situation?

Yeah, posting this seemed a good idea right now. I looked down, saw how many cells lacked a digit, and got a reality check. I had to focus. I did not want to be here after sunset.

[latin-self-bound]

Excelents stories! I've enjoyed reading them. I love the creativity and how the interactions between the users are so similar to the interactions here. I hope to read many more chapters.

[RopeBunny]

A mostly internal chapter then, a look inside her thoughts and hopes.

Nicely done. Little hint of maybe at the end, possibly developments with the boss, a way forward since they certainly appear to share a common interest.

Even if one of them is so far oblivious to the fact

[Beaumains]

Excelents stories! I've enjoyed reading them. I love the creativity and how the interactions between the users are so similar to the interactions here. I hope to read many more chapters.

Thanks a lot!

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Difficult question, Bold, but do you believe anyone cares about these work rules? It’s more of a legal defense. I am always in for a fling, and a good evening of tie-ups is not a relationship and so allowed. Better have some fun with a trustworthy colleague than a subpar Tinder pick-up.

I had memorized Riley’s short response to my question as I approached her. It was Wednesday, seven o’clock, so my shift had two hours left. I had vowed to tell her today, praying her reaction matched her imagination. “Hey, can we talk real quick?” I queried as she handed me my dinner sandwich.

“Yeah, sure. My office?” Riley responded as I trailed her. As always, dinner time was slow before the usual evening rush. “Thanks for coming to me,” my manager smiled. “In hindsight, I should have pressed less hard last week, but I am glad you made up your mind.”

Oh, if only she knew what I was going to tell her…

“So, eh, sorry about last week. I have to explain myself. Please don’t get angry,” I stumbled after Riley closed the door of her tiny office filled with filing cabinets. My manager was smart enough to ignore my last directive. “It’s awkward, but we have met before. I only realized that recently.”

I had decided on this approach to prevent Riley from connecting the dots and steer her elsewhere. Maybe we had gone to the same elementary school, or I had gone to one of her sisters’ parties at home as a teen. I had her attention.

“Well, your online persona is BBG, isn’t it?” I spoke. The anvil that had been pressing on my chest all week felt off. I had practiced the sentence a dozen times in front of the mirror. B0undB0ndGir7 nodded, jaws dropping. She stared at me in pure terror. “Hi, I am Bold, like BoldFormTheBlue. Sorry. I couldn’t keep this secret,” I mumbled, turning to the door. Like locking a padlock for a dare, I had committed and now had to hope I froze the correct key in the block of ice. Riley’s response took the time ice needed to melt.

“You…” she whispered, grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to meet her eyes again. Her mind was still computing the consequences of my few sentences. I saw shock transform into relief and then mischief. She pulled me further in. “So naughty. That question this weekend was a test? You devious little girl,” she uttered. I heard enthusiasm and happiness. “You will clean the animal enclosures today. Also, come to me after your shift. Bad girls require punishment. Now skedaddle.”



After work, I went to my car and trailed Riley to her house. Mommy and Daddy owning a chain of garden centers had enabled a 27-year-old to buy a house. Ah well, it was a tiny home, not more than a one-floor, one-bedroom bungalow the size of a big RV. Only it was all beautiful wood, with a lovely garden full of wildflowers and modern, fashionable furniture. It was a hobbit hole above ground or a cabin in the woods.

“Take a shower,” my manager ordered. “You smell.”

“No shit. Someone forced me to clean the dog, cat, rabbit, guinea pig, and bird enclosures.”

From the top of a cabinet, two green eyes stared down. It was Nothing. Riley’s black cat was shier than Oreo, who had a long white mark on her side and was far more sociable. BBG had told so on the forums and had sent a few pics of her cats. “Watch your tongue, young lady. Don’t annoy me.” Her dark green eyes glared as she flung a towel in my direction. “Understood?”

“Yes, mistress.”

Riley laughed. “Stop it, Cy, we ain’t there yet. That’s a tad further than I wanna go. You’re just here to be tied and enjoy some well-deserved suffering.”

I smiled and entered the shower. Riley was hard to pinpoint, and I was clueless about what she expected from me tonight, but it had to be good. I just had to roll with the flow. The water was warm and felt good. I quickly cleaned my face to avoid having to dry my hair despite being quite short. Nowadays, I wear my blonde, semi-curly locks in a shoulder-long lob with bangs.

As I believed I could freely digest the situation, light flared up behind the blinded shower door as Riley entered. While whistling, she grabbed my clothes. So that’s how she wanted to play it. My nerves grew.

I dried myself and never felt more naked. Luckily, Riley had not taken everything, leaving my bra and panties. Both were worn out. I should have planned ahead and worn a better pair. I put them on together with the blindfold which Riley had put down. I felt my way to the door and made my way out, unintentionally covering my belly with one hand.

Riley grabbed my shoulder, sending jolts through my bones. My skin shivered. She led me through to the room, spun me around, and curled a rope around my ankle that was thick, soft, and fluffy. I guessed it was cotton. I preferred them over cuffs. Ropes are more personal as there are infinitely more options: tightness, knots, number of windings, and much more. For me, the difference is like listening through headphones or a concert. Or between a multiple-choice test or an essay. Cuffs are reliable and consistent and only disappoint when they break. Ropes have a personality, are unpredictable, and can always be improved. Sadly, their release mechanisms for self-bondage are trivial and cheatable or overcomplicated and dangerous. Hence, I often had to resort to chains and cuffs. Riley was my hero now.

My legs were spread and bound to rings on the floor. It was not painful, but I still trembled in excitement. What was my manager doing? Riley was silent, only moving my body for her binds. She pulled my arms up at a 45-degree angle, making me look like a letter X. I was so vulnerable. She could whip me, remove my bra and panties and use them as gags, or leave me here all night. No, the latter was impossible. I could scream. Or what was that smell?

Socks?

I was glad I had worn my high shoes to work today. No animal excrement had touched them. Fortunately, they were only drenched in sweat. I opened my mouth, which was soon filled with cotton, soaking up the saliva in my mouth and pressing my tongue down. A scarf was pressed over the stinkbomb, wrapped around my head thrice, and tied securely. I despised this part and pleaded mercy, but no intelligible words left my mouth, and Riley giggled. This sucked. It was all I ever wanted.

The tender hands left my body, and I anticipated what was next: nipple clamps, tickling, or even candle wax. I was awaiting a paddle stroke or a gentle touch near my pussy, but nothing came. I breathed in my socks, controlling my gag reflex as I stared into empty darkness that my thoughts filled with perverse scenarios. An ordinary person would be afraid, and Riley and I had not communicated. I had to rely on her freestyling and ability to read my body language. At least she had a good sight at that body...

Riley was frustrating me more than when our hyped-up Christmas bonus turned out to be a 50-dollar gift card to the garden center. She just disappeared. I heard her walk around, get a drink from the fridge, and feed her cats, but my punisher ignored me, I reckoned. Else, she was watching while sipping wine or snapping pictures. A radio played in the background, but I found little distraction from the bondage keeping my mind busy and anticipating.

It took ages, yes, ages, before a cord was drawn over my breast, finding its way under the straps of my bra and behind my back, scratching the itchy parts. It winded multiple times around, lifting and pressing my breasts down simultaneously. It made them stand out, and two cinches between them amplified the pressure. Sadly, Riley did not squeeze them or remove my bra, which was pressed by my hardened nipples.

“You got a beautiful body. So, BoldFromTheBlue, you have some toys in your car, don’t you? Mind if I get them?” Riley asked, and without thought, I nodded. What a night.

[RopeBunny]

So she finally did it, took that plunge and came clean about who she is/what she's done.

Interesting.

Wonder where things will go...?

Great work.

[Beaumains]

Wonder where things will go...?

Not to spoil too much, but this is just the start

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“It’s a little damp there, isn’t it?” my manager remarked, poking against the inside of my thigh.

I could not deny that and nodded, causing a little giggle from Riley.

“You think you deserve it?”

I thought for a second before confirming it. In the weird and wonderful situation, denial was the last thing I desired. After, I realized my move could also play into Riley’s hand.

“Good, good. Luckily for you, I am not that kind of person,” Riley whispered, turning me on even more. Blind, gagged, bound, and almost naked, I wanted nothing more. My hips and shoulders were strained from standing still while further apart than comfortable, but I froze and waited in anticipation.

I heard the recognizable click of a button and a light zooming sound. Like Pavlov’s dog, my panties had turned from damp to wet. Hearing the button flick again disheartened me, but fortunately, I felt the rubber press against the cotton and fire itself up. At the first vibrations, I cracked, feeling an incredible rush through my blood vessels. I leaned towards my toy, a bit too conscious about my moans. This was good. When the familiar pleasure waned, I let my body hang in the ropes, and Riley pulled the vibrator away.

“You liked that?”

I nodded again, far more enthusiastic. The orgasm had been mighty. Never had someone tied me up this well and delivered perfectly. I wanted more. Calmed down, I acknowledged the orgasm had been amazing and among my most powerful. Still, it was far from the best. I recalled my first-ever orgasm, which I had awkwardly figured out with my fingers, and when I first tried a proper vibrator. Or when I first tried a blindfold, gag, handcuffs, and roped-up legs with a timed egg vibrator. Now, such a scenario appears so tame and boring.

Riley touched my cheek. “That’s so sinful, Bold. I’ll have to leave you to rethink your sins. See ya.”

I had hoped for more but got none. The taste of dirty socks returned to my mouth, and I felt more tired than ever. Instead of standing strongly, my arms held me up and carried much of my weight. I wanted to get out, and as some would say, only now it was proper bondage. I was exhausted after a long day, and the session had hit a (literal) climax. I had had enough. I flung my bound head up, staring towards where the ceiling would be, and counted up, reaching only 58 before stopping. I focused on my day, but retelling the events ended around a mediocre potato soup for lunch at the college canteen. My shoulders ached and demanded that I shift my weight on my burdened knees.

“Let me go… Please…” I murmured in the sock gag, but, of course, no intelligible sounds filled the room. Sure, I was asking, maybe even begging, to be released, but I was not quitting. Like when waiting on a timer to run out releasing keys while you have an emergency exit, truly giving up was different than wishing it was over. Overcoming yourself is great, and getting out only to notice you have 3 more minutes to go feels like a loss. I was suffering, but the reward would come quick, hopefully.

Riley was restless, walking around to get snacks and drinks and turning off the TV after only 5 minutes. This kept my hopes high, and this was soon rewarded as my arms were freed, and I collapsed to the floor.

“You okay, Cy?” Riley asked in a panic. She ripped the blindfold and scarf that held the gag away and picked the socks out. I smiled, relishing to have fresh air float through my lungs. My manager lifted me up. “Just tired?”

I confirmed this, and Riley pressed a glass of water against my lips, which I downed. Riley untied my ankles and helped me onto the couch, where a towel protected the fabric from my sweat and soiled underwear. Pulling the green beach towel around me and eating unhealthy amounts of her white chocolate made me feel better. Riley, wearing a cute short black SM-style dress, had adjusted her behavior to my weary, post-bondage mood. The taunts had stopped, and it became clear she was anything but angry with me, having enjoyed the evening. My gambit had paid off.

The young homeowner made me use her shower again before I drove home commando to avoid wearing those panties again. In bed, Riley’s parting words haunted me. “Better confess to your deeds. 2000 words, no less, and be as open as always. Also, ask them what should happen to you next.”



Two days later, I had written my report, received B0undBondGir7’s approval, and posted it, anticipating chaos. Soon, I was bombarded with PMs and messages from friends and strangers alike. Most were kind, congratulating me and loving my scheme, but the overwhelming conclusion was that I still owed Riley. On Sunday, she would take for another dare. Great.

But from everyone out there, Sky was the worst. She was never very vocal and remained in the background, but when she chimed in, she was sharp as a knife and most often correct. Awesome Bold! That’s so cool, but, as everyone said, cowardly to wait and set up BBG like that. Although you enjoyed your orgasm, it doesn’t count towards my dare. It was not sex. You also had to find a new person and already knew BBG technically. One week left. Let me give you an option: You can give up now, and you don’t have to share your private messages with me or send whatever I fancy. I still choose the dating platform, and BBG has to confirm you made your profile to the best of your ability. You have one hour to decide.

I needed less than half an hour to take Sky up on her offer. To my horror, she had not chosen a regular site or an upcoming app. Nope, it was a sugarbaby site. Let me explain. You often talk about money due to your student loans, bad-paying retail job (thanks, BBG!), and soaring rent and grocery costs. You would love to travel more, enjoy more unique experiences, and get connections to help you with a career. You have a great body and intellect, so I am sure someone will like you. I am not sure sugar dating is your solution -- I did it for 9 months during my studies -- but give it a serious shot. Have at least a few chats with guys. No need to have sex against your will. If you have questions or doubts, feel free to PM me.

[GreyLord]

Good show, @Beaumains. This has a very contemporary feel to it. Cyan and Riley are both interesting characters. You leave me eager to read your next episode. Thanks.

[RopeBunny]

An interesting chapter, and it was good to see her snap out of being 'in charge' and instead help and care.

Great work.

[Beaumains]

Great work.

Good show, @Beaumains. This has a very contemporary feel to it.

Thanks a lot for the kidn words and following along! Here is the next part.

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“One more… Yeah, that’s it,” Riley stated as she pointed her phone’s camera at me. “We need close-ups of your face. Let’s move to that bush. Green is a good back-drop.”

I nodded. I required new photos for my dating profile, and Riley had volunteered to help me before our already-planned bondage session. She was kind and helpful now but was here to punish me for my cowardliness and tricking her.

“Look sexy into. Don’t feel embarrassed. Try a few things out,” Riley ordered.

I was long over the fact that I was wearing my new dark blue bikini in the middle of the forest. I had to show off my body, but according to numerous online guides, I should not look slutty or too provocative. It was a weird and unclear line, but a bikini in public was socially acceptable, while it made clear I was skinny and had decent boobs and a good butt.

“Come on, Cy, stare seductively at the camera. Your eyes should do the magic. Never done that before?”

I reddened, feeling that my attempts came across as making silly faces. ‘‘Let me try it myself. Selfie mode.”

Riley handed me my phone, and seeing the screen helped. Looking at the camera at a slight angle, mouth slightly open, I shot a dozen. I wore subtle make-up, which the average man would miss. I still did not look like a sorority girl or photo model, but I am not one. I am Cyan. And overproduced photos lacked personality. Soon, I was satisfied.

Then My manager made a devious suggestion. “What about hinting more towards bondage? You wanted to mention that in your profile. It will make you stand out.”

I agreed to give it a try. Riley advised me to strip nude and change my hair. Having many photos from the same shoot appeared lazy. Then she would tie my wrists and shoulders such that the rope over my bare shoulders would be visibly poking into my skin.

“Don’t be ashamed. You ain’t looking anything different than I expected while wearing a bikini or underwear. I have seen those breasts dozens of times. Only now I can also see your head,” Riley remarked as she glanced at me, covering my breasts.

“And you also wanted pants off?” I asked while grabbing my fingers behind my back. Save for boyfriends and direct family, I had never been nude in front of anyone.

Riley chuckled. “Better practice for your sugar daddy.”

I hated she was correct. The idea was still ludicrous, but tossing the idea out was foolish. I was neither too prude nor too proud. Sky was right: the potential benefits were undeniably life-changing. She bound my hands behind me and tied a beautiful pentagram tie on my chest using cyan and navy blue ropes. The tie was neat, especially around my shoulders.

“Beautiful. Thanks.”

“No problem. I once took a 10-week shibari course. It has been a while since I have flexed it on someone.”

“What about lying on that fallen tree? Then your hair falls differently.”

Most of the bark was gone, revealing a smooth bronze surface about 4 feet in diameter. Due to my bound arms, Riley had to help me onto the wooden giant as I lay down on my belly. She pulled me back, folded my knees in a 90-degree angle, and tied them to two dead branches. My legs were lightly spread, and the wind tickled my private parts.

“Look left, let your head rest. Yeah, like that. Keep this. I will try a few angles,” Riley commented, shooting close-ups. “Yeah, that dreamy look is perfect,” she complimented, but I was clueless about what I was doing. Yet, when my manager showed me the pics, I had to admit I was looking good. Many men would pay me hundreds of dollars for a single date.

“Thanks, that should be sufficient. The three poses we had done complemented two old photos I had already selected.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we have finished the warm-up of this beautiful Sunday evening.” She leaned in. “Ready for a dare?” she whispered, sending a jolt through my nerves. “You still owe me.”

“I assume my space for negotiation is tiny?” My hands were tied, literally. That I was already in my birthday suit was also not accidental.

Riley chuckled and put her hand on my head, scratching it. “True, but I will still give you the idea. You can decide. The illusion of choice. So, do you accept the dare?”

“If I may choose, then I do.” It was the truth.

“You know, two weeks ago, you left me alone, naked in the woods. Then you watched me. That was rude and, as everyone agreed, cause for punishment. Let me turn the tables. An eye for an eye is fair. Time for you to reflect in solitary.”

A smile still painted my face. Riley had a decent domme voice, assuring and friendly at times but always asserting her will and my lack of options. It was subtle, but her decision was final, and my opinion would be factually wrong. She knew best. Some would prefer the ruthless, cold screaming, but actual understanding and merciless teasing seemed more fun to me.

“I know you like numbers and surprises, so I have a 20-sided die here. We both roll the die once each and multiply the results. That’s the number of minutes I leave you alone. It could be one minute or almost seven hours, though that might be too much. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” I lied. Both extremes were terrifying. Multiplying creates an enormous variation in the distribution.

“Cool, I will start.” Carefully, Riley rolled the die on the trunk, a foot before my eyes. An 8. “Your turn.”

Riley handed me the die. With my hands box-tied behind my back, I had to clumsily throw the die up, and it landed on my back between the ropes. Unable to see it, I saw Riley crunch the numbers and check the time on her phone. “See you later,” she joked, photographing the die and spraying mosquito repellent on me before walking off. The trail was a few hundred yards away, and soon, the lush trees had absorbed the strawberry-blonde hair.

I cursed.

I grinned.

What a devil. I could be stuck for 8 minutes or 2 hours and 40 minutes, and there were 18 other time slots in between. I despised the brutal treatment, which was all I had ever dreamed of.

The initial excitement waned within a few minutes. I had not been gagged or blindfolded. Therefore, I knew Riley had ditched me and was not watching me from a distance to create the illusion of abandonment. The lack of gag made the situation more bearable, and the worst-case scenario was feasible. Riley was not playing games.

Indeed, Riley had made the tie inescapable. My hands were glued behind my back. At best, I could kick my legs free by breaking the side branches, and if that succeeded (that is, if), I would tumble 5 feet down on my face.

The wood was a little wet and thus cold, and I feared that the evening wind would not be my friend. It would become chilly soon. That was not a welcome prospect.

Many trees, big and small, broadleaf and pine, surrounded me. I was 200 feet from the nearest trail, but no one would find me if I remained quiet. As there were many such small trails, there was a good chance no one would even walk that trail tonight. So, that was fine. I heard a woodpecker and some other birds, which I still could not identify by their sounds even after my dad had told me a thousand times. Three lemon-green butterflies danced, and a lone beetle traversed a leaf ten times its body size. I was alone.

I read that some people experience bondage as tranquil and relaxing. For them, it is a form of meditation. They loved the peace and quiet and lack of stimuli. Meanwhile, I fancied helplessness for other reasons. I adored fear and excitement, sexual side, and lack of choice. From myself, I was restless, and bondage was a battle for my body and mind. I liked to be challenged and push myself.

Therefore, Riley created a perfect polyester prison. I was stuck but could talk and see. I could frustrate myself and get angry. But I could never plead the time to move faster. I had to relax and exercise control. There were no stimuli and yet too many to reach a subspace.

How many times had those 8 minutes passed? Once? Twice? I did not know. I heard a voice. A woman, quite happy, but not Riley. It was distance, but the laughter was clear. A low-pitched male voice accompanied her, and I froze for a second before remembering they could not see me. But they appeared so close due to the lack of background noise. Their shoes audibly mowed through the gravel. The little hairs on my neck stood up.

The red and black jackets became visible between the many leaves and moved straight in my direction. Shit.

My heart stopped.

They, a big white man with a ginger beard around thirty years of age, and his girlfriend, a jovial girl with long black hair, appearing to be Indian American, spotted me, bound and naked as they held hands.

My eyes widened. I had been noticed during dares, but that had been a quick flash or in a situation that allowed me to hurry away embarrassed. I had never faced severe consequences, but now I was more naked, bound, and alone than ever before in front of a stranger. Against a tree, my clothes, wallet, car keys, and phone rested. Basically, everything that would disturb my life for weeks if it were taken.

The duo’s jaws dropped, and they exchanged disturbed gazes. “Sorry for this. I thought I was far enough from the trail.” I prayed they were no prude idiots who would call the police. Registering as a sex offender was my worst nightmare. A cool, calm, and collected approach seemed best. Everyone had been young and horny.

“Are you okay?” the guy inquired, and I confirmed that as the girl gaped at my bound boob resting on the wood. She was amazed and curious.

“Yeah, yeah, I am fine. A friend tied me up and left me alone. We do that from time to time. I expected no one to pass by. Sorry.” Telling that Riley was my manager would only cause further questions. BDSM had gotten sort of mainstream, so there was no reason to expand further.

The guy nodded and opened his mouth, but his girlfriend cut him off. “That’s rather unfortunate. I hope we didn’t scare you too much. We were actually looking for some privacy as well.” The last comment surprised her boyfriend, who reddened. “It was nice meeting you, and I hope your friend returns for you. See ya.”

As quickly as they appeared, they wandered off to have sex in other bushes. I laughed my nerves away. In all these fictional stories, there would have been a kinky threesome with my being their slave for the week, but this was reality. Most people are decent human beings, not psychopaths. They would not risk their lives and careers for this. Life is not a fairytale nor a sexual fantasy. Despite what you read, the vast majority offer help before realizing the sexual opportunity when they find a nude, bound girl. In more established power dynamics, it was more likely to go wrong. Your bondage fantasies almost never come to you. You somehow have to find them, and I failed for the past few years.

[GreyLord]

This is a very entertaining tale, @Beaumains. I believe that you are addressing some fundamental issues that devotees of tugs, indeed all kinksters, face. Cy struggles with moving forward in the face of doubts and uncertainties. You do this while still making your story sexy and appealing.

[Beaumains]

This is a very entertaining tale, @Beaumains. I believe that you are addressing some fundamental issues that devotees of tugs, indeed all kinksters, face. Cy struggles with moving forward in the face of doubts and uncertainties. You do this while still making your story sexy and appealing.

Thanks a lot for your very kind words!

[Syko Sith]

I actually love the idea behind this story as much if not more than the story itself. It's wonderfully well written and easy to follow.

[LunaDog]

Well this story is a bit different than most here. But, believe me, that does NOT stop it being EXCELLENT and a real joy to read.

[slackywacky]

This story has a very different flavor compared to your others, @Beaumains. Well done!

I've found over the years that @Beaumains been posting here, that he has a very wide range of writing styles. It just shows his skills. This story is no exception.

[RopeBunny]

A great tie, well described. The idea of dice rolling to randomly allocate minutes, the fact Cy only knows half of the total score. Impossible to keep time whilst bound the mind wanders so.

Enjoyed the 'discovery' too.

Great chapter