The Tangled Maiden: Complete (Mostly F/F, M/F)

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Post by Caesar73 »

GreyLord wrote: 2 years ago I hope I am not misinterpreting. It appears to me the Bree is slightly more in tune with her environment than she has been. Even if I am wrong, great writing.
Absolutely! Maybe Bree is really getting more comfortable with her Environment. I find it always interessting to follow Bree´s Train of thought. Well done!
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Post by Tieup1 »

Great chapter, after a reasonably good experience, could has Bree become over confident, or has she really turned a corner. I hope we will find out soon. :)
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Post by tickletied84 »

Mmm, that pudding sounds delicious - never thought of food being used to torment someone in this way before!
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Post by Mineira1986 »

Well, Brie knew it. It was a trap coming all the way. What will the punishment be?

Still, good for Brie to keep being such a good sport. I hope the whole experience ends up being a nice memory for her.
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Post by Beaumains »

Again, thanks for the massive amount of replies. I am not sure what to do with all of them as answering your questions surely would reveal a lot of what is (not) coming. Yet, it is always good to hear these thoughts as it tells me whether what i wanted to write came across. So thank you!
tickletied84 wrote: 2 years ago Mmm, that pudding sounds delicious - never thought of food being used to torment someone in this way before!
haha, thanks. Truly, the inspiration comes from the trope of grandma's overfeeding their grandchildren. It was the most creative and Bree-friendly trap I could imagine.
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Post by Caesar73 »

Beaumains wrote: 2 years ago It was the most creative and Bree-friendly trap I could imagine.
It was perfect :) Keep that up :)
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Post by Beaumains »

Down we went. Beth had not lied: She shipped me to the dungeons. Down the stairs, dark grey stones replaced the wooden floorboards. The thick oaken doors shielded everything behind them, save for the screams, giggles, and high pitches indicating gags. The warehouse housing the Tangled Maiden had appeared ordinary, maybe at an odd location, but it was otherworldly. A time machine had brought me to the 13th century.

“Halt and get your act together. Face your punishment bravely. You deserve it,” Beth ordered in the middle of the hallway. Indeed, I trembled, fearing what kind of medieval monstrosity awaited me. I would not see it. She removed a black scarf from her belt and tied it tightly over my eyes.

I had forgotten I had consented to this, not wanting to do this, but Beth only tried to startle me. This was intended: Getting frightened, terrified of what was coming, waiting for the surprise. Like why people watch horror movies, visit haunted houses, and do other things I never did (and had no desire to do). Everyone knows it is scary, gory, and loaded with jump scares, but they crave to learn how wild it is.

Beth forced me forward, dragging me deeper underground. Blind, with my shoes on the damp rock, intensified the experience by a factor of ten. I perceived every sound better, and the torture made me want to rip the blindfold off and run. Then I heard it.

A screeching piano.

I was pushed through a door into the piano room, and I was afraid. Were there three people here? My captor, me, and the musician? Did countless eyes gaze at me as if a circus animal was introduced to a crowd? Or was this room like the one where I was bound earlier.

I had no time to think.

Cloth found its way between my teeth. Someone fastened it behind my head such that a big knot filled my mouth and walked me to the corner of the room. Dropped to my knees, my arms were pulled up, and locks clicked around my wrist, keeping them above my head. It did not hurt. The soft leader cuffs were designed to tug them in this direction. Two more clicks. My ankles could not move anymore and were locked to the pillow by cold metal. My arms drew me up while I sat on my knees, but I could not rise. I was stuck. My feet bungled over the edge of the cushion.

I had wrongly presumed my captor was done. A zipper ran down, and the low boot around my right ankle was removed. I wanted to jerk away. This was too intimate! But all I could do was a muted protest in my gag.

“You okay?” Beth whispered in my ear. “Only a little tickle.”

Blindfolded, Beth had disappeared from my mind. I calmed down. My bracelet indicated I agreed to light tickling, so I was safe. There was no need to worry. The sensation of being undressed, even a shoe, unsettled me. I never had close contact for my own safety.

I nodded, and Beth silently seized my other shoe. This mental torture was part of my punishment. I had to accept my fate and focus on myself. It would not be too bad, would it not?

A finger touched my ankle, forcing itself between the right sock and the black spandex catsuit. It peeled it off, leaving the strap around my sole that kept the catsuit from running up my leg. My feet, out in the open, tasted the chilly air. Their current nakedness made me uncomfortable. I had to trust Beth and whoever else was here. That was quite the challenge, as Beth took my other sock. Then she left.

Or I thought so. The music made it hard to judge. I could not hear anyone walking – and the torturer would not wear shoes – and vague grunts of gags surrounded me. I was clueless about their whereabouts and how many there were. Alone, I prayed I was not in a lion’s den or snake pit.

Then the melody accelerated, and the pianist hit higher notes as if danger was approaching. Then one heavy, low drop ended the music as a swat followed, trailed by a cry. And the last notes echoed as I grabbed the chains around my wrists and braced myself. A guy behind me was flogged mercilessly.

He quieted, and the piano formed serene sounds once more. I paused, not comprehending the connection between these events as the music’s pace increased. A sudden pause after the highest of notes caused a scream. No, it was a laugh, which the stone carried and bounced around. A woman was being tickled.

Two employees were here: A pianist and a punisher. The punisher would sneak behind a captive and execute a punishment when the music ceased. Everyone was blindfolded to ensure a surprise, and we had to fear one moment: The fast, high notes. This was not favorable. The tension of the short periods added together dwarfed a long wait.

I waited; the third round was also not mine.

Just like the fourth.

But, every time, I got an adrenaline boost as if I had taught my body to tense when the music quickened. What was this madlass going to me? Tickle me? When would it be my turn? I had no clue how many prisoners this room housed and in what order they received discipline. Was there an order? Or was it arbitrary?

Then, at the seventh interlude – yes, I counted them – something hairy stroke against my left foot. It brushed, and I screamed like a dying pigeon embarrassingly loud in my gag. Not the tickling, but the shock made me jump. Her approach had been silent. The punisher skimmed my feet again, and I giggled at a more reasonable pitch. It tickled but did not drive me crazy. Grabbing the chains and tossing my body to the sides, I had to admit it was not painful. It was survivable, and ten seconds later, my ordeal was over. Or at least the first. The music resumed.

I sighed in the cotton gag. Was I enjoying myself? Not really. It was not as dreadful as I had pictured. Weeks ago, I called this hell. Now, I lived through it, believing people chose such misery voluntarily. This had earned me a meal and an excellent one in particular. From that perspective, I had worked harder for less, even though I had sworn never to sell my skin.

The pianist stopped for the 21st time. I prepared myself as usual, unbeknownst it was necessary. Only, this time, my feet remained untouched: It was my belly’s turn. Fingers buried themselves in the spandex, and I trashed aside: The steel rings around my ankles bit in my flesh, and the chains pulled on my shoulders. I wished to vanish. Not that the fingers hurt, but this was too personal. No one should touch me there, and even her name and face were mysteries to me. Was she even a waitress? They could be a waiter, a dirty old man, or whatever rat roamed in these dungeons.

I demanded it to stop. I bobbed my head.

It stopped, and the fingers retreated. The piano renewed its song, still needing to be tuned.
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Post by Caesar73 »

That was one hell of chapter [mention]Beaumains[/mention] - I liked the creepy atmosphere, the not so well tuned Piano :) But the icing of the cake was, that Bree cannot see what is happening, that she does never know what comes next.
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Post by GreyLord »

You are certainly a master of creating high tension, [mention]Beaumains[/mention]. Bree pulls sympathy from your readers hearts. But she will continue to find herself in predicaments unless she learns to say no.
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Post by Mineira1986 »

Beautiful!

Love how this chapter moves along with the piano interludes. More considering that Brie is blindfold and we are into this story through her PoV. Again, I hope she can finally enjoy herself into this new world. And, again, it seems she reaches a hard limit that makes take a step away.

Keep it coming. Great work.
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Post by Tieup1 »

Another great chapter. Bree seems to go through ordeal, after ordeal. Will she ever get used to this lifestyle. When, if ever will she realise, this may not be for her at all. ?
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Post by GreyLord »

Tieup1 wrote: 2 years ago Another great chapter. Bree seems to go through ordeal, after ordeal. Will she ever get used to this lifestyle. When, if ever will she realise, this may not be for her at all. ?
Or, she may realize that this lifestyle is very much for her.
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Post by Beaumains »

Hey, sorry for the wait. I have been busy. As usual, it is hard to answer any comments as they hint about one of the biggest msyteries of this story.
Mineira1986 wrote: 2 years ago Beautiful!

Love how this chapter moves along with the piano interludes. More considering that Brie is blindfold and we are into this story through her PoV. Again, I hope she can finally enjoy herself into this new world. And, again, it seems she reaches a hard limit that makes take a step away.

Keep it coming. Great work.
Thanks. When blindfolded and gagged, sound and touch are about your last remaining senses, and then they are amplified.
-----------------------------------------------------
The piano screeched, and my heart pounded. “If you have had enough and can’t talk, bob your head quickly. They’ll understand,” Yuna had promised. “That’s also a safeword.”

Two seconds passed.

“Do you want to be released?” a woman whispered in my ear. Her voice was affectionate, not condemning.

I nodded.

“Can you hold on for two more minutes?”

I nodded again. The bondage was no issue, but the sudden touches unsettled me. Perhaps, now I had heard her voice, I could continue, but abandoning was better. She had freaked me out.

The torturer had already left as her voice had silenced, the music accelerated, striking the high notes, and an ear-piercing scream ensued. A man. I had heard him two or three times already, but tied, I could only wait. I began to count, and near a hundred, the music halted with the familiar cries of gagged cursing. Another sound accompanied it. Splashing? I was unsure. Were they disregarding their promise?

They were not. Two clicks and slack around my ankles indicated I was indeed released. My arms soon followed, and I flung them around me, both to relax them and to defend myself. My shoulder was gripped, and I was pulled on my feet and pushed out of the room. At long last, my blindfold was removed, and I stared into Beth’s face, still topped with the ridiculous white cap of her costume.

“Bree, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You certain? Can I get you anything?”

I was just satisfied to be safe. “I’m good.”

“Do you want to go to the safe room? You can also return to the main hall. The dinner finishes in fifteen minutes, so if you behave a little, I won’t punish you anymore.”

I had already given up. Why would I be allowed to return? “Sure.”

“Or do you want a hug first?”

“No thanks. I’m fine,” I replied. Intimate contact was the last thing I desired.

Beth beamed. Was my face expressing too much discomfort? I attempted to pull it neutral. “Bree, I’ve been told about you. If there’s anything you need, ask.”

Again, someone had been talking. I despised that.

“My shift is almost over. Would you fancy joining my friend group afterward?”

Beth’s audacious proposal took me by surprise. “Maybe…” Tired, I desired to leave and be by myself. Sadly, there was nowhere to go; I would have to wait on my hosts to finish partying, wherever they were.

“Well, consider yourself invited. Let’s go to the main hall.” She handed me the ankle boots and socks I had worn earlier, and I put them on.


In the past days, I had been offered few choices and moments where I could develop my own conclusion. And often, I was pressured towards one option. I had lost my independence and the freedom to choose my own path. Here, late at night, I had multiple options. I could run to a secluded spot and wait until Ambrose and Cecilia would pick me up and go home, stay with them at Table 1 or accept Beth’s offer. Even with a choice, I disfavored all.

Firstly, being alone here would make things only more miserable, and like always, everyone would know it. They would be furious, especially after Ambrose had inquired me whether I had had fun. “A bit,” I had replied. He knew I had given up, but running away from them would never help me in the long term. My belongings were still in their home, and I could not leave to the streets wrapped in thin black spandex. With temperatures near freezing, it would be suicide.

Meanwhile, my current predicament was far out of my comfort zone too. Ambrose and Cecilia had a deep conversation with Anna, discussing matters few ears could enjoy. They knew each other well, and Anna was producing ‘ideas’ for scenes with Aoife, recounting them her sinful life in the eighties. Clad in rope and cuffs, she had been the centerpiece of the ‘art’ and had tasted enough men and women to form entire yearbooks. The elderly lady sickened me. I did not know whether showing my loathing face or staring away was less respectful. Either way, the three did not care about my presence.

“Wanna join us?” Beth had cut in, now dressed in tight blue jeans and a black merchandise sweater from the Tangled Maiden. The golden girl encircled by ropes captured my eyes. Without the white cap, Beth was mundane, and on the streets, I would never suspect her enjoying such a job.

“Sure,” I said, pleased with the offer, which I tried to hide. I was not eager for another tie-up, but whatever awaited me could not be worse.

“Cool, but don’t tell Cedric anything. It’s more fun to keep him in the dark. We’re in the playroom. Follow me.”

Playroom? Another euphemism? I trailed my host to a room with worn-out black-leather sofas, ropes and graffiti on the walls, and a tired crew of young people drinking beer and cheap wine. It resembled the staff room where I had eaten breakfast a week prior but was bigger, busier, and livelier.

“Hey, this’s Bree. She’s the artist that drew that portrait of Madam.”

A dozen pairs of eyes gazed at me. Seven girls, half of them wearing the same sweater as Beth and five boys around my age. I recognized Cedric – who still wore the green dress – but another man sported an even uglier and brighter yellow dress. I stared away at the floorboard, where two bound bodies faced down. It did barely startle me.

“Hey, nice meeting ya. I’m Tyler,” a man spoke, followed by many more names of which I remembered none.

“Take a seat,” Beth urged as she dropped herself on Cedric’s lap. He squeezed her thigh. Her job had exhausted her, but she appeared content in the arms of her boyfriend.

“Enjoyed your bondage?” one of the girls in a Tangled Maiden sweater questioned.

“Yeah,” I lied, acquainted with the task ahead. A group of people who had known each other for ages was going to cross-examine me. Their inquisitive nature would evaluate me and determine whether I was cool enough to hang out with them. After switching schools many times, I had gotten used to the routine and learned I had no reason to worry or try to impress: They would not last long in my life. I had to lie as much to be accepted temporarily. Yet, being homeless instead of a foster kid, I had to bend the truth further. No one should know you are so poor you are begging on the streets and sleeping in abandoned buildings. “I make a living as an artist,” I explained, but I could not deny I was a bondage novice.

Luckily, quickly the group understood I was weary and not talkative. Then, I heard something behind me.

“Fuck!” a man exclaimed, and soon a catastrophe of noise erupted. I turned around.

Together with a girl, he stood next to a pile of small wooden bricks. “You lose,” she smirked. “Come here.” She escorted him to the two bound people on the floor, and he lay down on them. With ropes, she tied his limps to rings on the floor and the arms and legs of the two girls.

“Who’s next?”

“What are we playing?” Beth asked.

“Jenga,” a boy yawned. “Everyone plays a game, and the loser is added to the pile.”

“Sophie, Tyler, you up?” the victorious girl suggested, and the man in the yellow dress and one of the girls in a black sweater rose. They rebuilt the tower, and taking turns, removed a block and placed it on top, further destabilizing the structure.

“Bree, wanna join the game?” Cedric invited.

“No, thanks, I’m good,” I reacted. I preferred watching, although being in anywhere else would likely be better.
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Post by Nainur »

again, such vivid exchange, huge insight into the mood and Bree's development and her jurney and all...
such an awesome read!
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Post by GreyLord »

[mention]Beaumains[/mention], you have hit another home run. You write with a depth that, frankly, I envy. Bree continues her journey. So far, I am unable to detect which way she will go in the end. Either way would fit her. I'm very glad your busy schedule let you write another chapter.
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Post by DIRK »

another good one. I like the way you write.
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Post by Caesar73 »

[mention]Beaumains[/mention] Another excellent chapter, the way you let us follow Bree´s Journey, her introspection is written incredible well written and as [mention]DIRK[/mention] wrote, it is impossible to tell where this Journey will go, though it seems at this Point, that even if Bree is not entirely comfortable with the Rules of this new world, she does - for the time being - play along, though she far from being a Bondage Afficcionado-
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Post by Beaumains »

Oh, wow, guys. Thanks for the kind words! They mean a lot to me and is good to see that the slow improvement in my writing is noticeable. This gives me a lot of motivation to keep on writing here!
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Post by Caesar73 »

Beaumains wrote: 2 years ago that the slow improvement in my writing is noticeable. This gives me a lot of motivation to keep on writing here!
You are not doing yourself justice [mention]Beaumains[/mention] :) You do not just improve slowly, you are doing a hell of a job!
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Post by Tieup1 »

Super chapter, I still think Bree is trapped, she can't decide what she really wants. What will she choose to do in the end, will something or someone, help to make her decide her future. ?
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Post by Mineira1986 »

Great chapter! Although I'm a bit sad that Brie is not enjoying herself and it's uncomfortable. It's understandable, though. I'm still hoping she will find a way to enjoy it, and to see the world in a different way (with bondage or not).
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Post by Beaumains »

“Ah, you’re awake? Done sleeping, or do you want some more?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I replied, feeling a slight headache. 22 continuous hours awake had been too many. “What time is it?”

“Eleven,” my host yawned. “Wanna shower? Fresh clothes are ready.

“Thanks, Yuna. Again, for everything.” In my second, black latex skin, which reeked of sweat and a spilled pint of beer, I made the five steps to the bathroom in Yuna’s apartment. I did not mind the stench, being quite used to wearing dirty clothing. It eased begging and saved me many expensive laundromat trips.

I undressed and stepped into the shower cabin, letting the water and steam clean and soften my skin. The long night had been scary but not awful. To avoid bondage, I had offered to draw Beth and Cedric, which had bought me two quiet hours. Yet, I could not stretch it further: The pencil and paper were horrible, and my drawing was small.

“What’ll that cost?” Beth had asked. The Jenga game had finished, and the losers had escaped the ropes as a group. Beth had won her Jenga game, and the alcohol had made her loosen up.

“Nothing, it’s okay.”

“You gotta get something. What about the Beth treatment?”

“Really, it’s fine,” I had replied.

“No, it’s not. Wait here, let me grab something.”

In that way, I ended up with three leather belts keeping my legs together and two more that fixed my wrist to my thighs. It was better than lying in that pile of people. No, Beth had not pushed me too far as someone else had ruined it last night.

It had been 4 in the morning when Yuna had approached me. “You’ll sleep at my place tonight. There was a little incident. Cecilia and Ambrose are already gone. Sorry.”

No further explanation. Mood ruined. Half an hour later, we drove to her apartment, and another 30 minutes later, I entered a deep sleep on the couch.

I dried my body, contemplating why I was disappointed: Had I become spoiled, expecting wonders from the wicked? Had my faith been too frank? Even though not all my fault, the problems belonged to me. Every day, I strayed further from my usual life. Almost half of the daylight was gone, and I still had no money or shelter.

“Mornin’,” I mumbled as I left the bathroom, dressed in whatever Yuna had prepared (skinny jeans and an army green t-shirt without any text). I grinned at Yuna, whose pink apron was covered in flour.

“Hey, Bree. Do you like mediocre pancakes? I’m really trying, but my pans seem to be cursed. That’s the only explanation.”

I sat down at the table, and Yuna placed one of the unfluffy pancakes on my plate.

“Try a boatload of maple syrup. That will help.”

I nodded and took a bite, noting my hunger. Yuna smirked joyfully as I ate her mediocre pancakes as if they were ice cream.

“So, what do you want to do today?” my host asked out of nowhere.

I stared down. Trying to find a bush to sleep under would not be an acceptable answer. Also, I still missed almost all my belongings. “Dunno, likely try to earn some cash somehow. Maybe draw some people at the park.” A truthful, neutral answer that was not too sad. I did not want to guild trip Yuna even further in supporting me.

“Let me repeat: What do you want to do? What do you like to do?”

I gazed at Yuna.

“What do you like to do for fun?”

I had a hard time looking Yuna in her eyes. She steered away first.

“My bad, sorry for the rude question. I wanted to do something together today, and it was your turn to pick.” Her apology seemed sincere and made her seem to care.

I conjured a smile. “It’s okay. I don’t have many hobbies besides drawing, but that’s not something to do together. But in all honesty, I have problems to take care of today. I don’t have time.”

This did not throw Yuna off. “What do you need? If you’re worrying about dinner or a place to sleep, don’t. Maybe Cecilia and Ambrose forgot to mention it, but you can stay at their place for some time. I know your introduction was far from smooth, but they mean well.”

I did not want to comprehend the implications of those words.

“Is there anything else you need?”

I bobbed my head.

“I was thinking, maybe I could teach you some judo?

I took a sip of my orange juice. This was a lot of information at once.

“If you don’t like it, we could go to the mall or a movie.”

Yuna, with her dirty apron, was pushing. Hard. That had happened a few times in the past few years – often men looking for cheap sex – but I could not pinpoint Yuna’s intentions. I presumed she was looking for an excuse to tie me up.


We entered The Tangled Maiden, of course. Why would pick Yuna pick an ordinary gym? We changed. Yuna’s bag contained surprisingly covering clothes: white cotton trousers, a thick white jacket with a white belt, a dark blue shirt, and a black sports bra.

“What do you know about defending yourself?” Yuna asked me as we sat opposite each other on the red mats.

“Scream, kick and hit the crotch, and scratch the eyes.”

“Good answer, but that’s not what I meant. What martial arts do you know?”

“None.”

“Then we start simple: pins. Lay flat on your back.”

I obeyed, and Yuna lay down on me on her side, shoving her right arm under my neck and grabbing my right arm with her own. “This is called a Kesa-gatame. Try to escape.”

I trembled. Having Yuna lie on me did not scare nor hurt me, but I instinctively understood I was stuck. I would escape if Yuna let me. I could not raise my upper body or roll away. I could push against her, but that would only wear me out. It was like being tied up: Fighting was useless unless the ropes were sloppy. I had never escaped the bondage.

“Your turn,” Yuna said, almost jumping off me. She lay down and clumsily and timidly, I took the same position. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” I lied, and with two kicks and a roll, I was the one being pinned.

Yuna let me go. “Again, now spread your legs. That gives you three points of contact and so much more balance.”

She was correct, and my next attempt lasted a whole four seconds. “Don’t be afraid to grab me. Put in some power,” Yuna advised correctly. She was bigger, stronger, and more experienced, but I stayed on top, like a cowboy taming a wild horse. I was feeble, but my position was superior. It seemed minutes before she escaped.

“Good, Bree!” the Viper panted. “Great!” I had not even come close to escaping her. “Ready for another pin?” Her face carried the same killer look as during the bondage-wrestling matches: fierce and competitive.

I lay down on my back, and Yuna’s arms fiddled themselves under my neck and between my legs, pushing my chest down with her own. “Escape,” she ordered. Her broad shoulders allowed no movement. But, when we swapped places, Yuna escaped as if she tossed the blanket off her bed in the morning. These battles were unfair.

Yuna grabbed my hand to help me up after casting me on the mat. “That smile suits you. We should do this more often. Ready for a real duel?”

“Okay,” I mumbled, but Yuna had already grabbed three ropes.

“To make it fair, I’ll bind my legs together.”
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Post by GreyLord »

Excellent, [mention]Beaumains[/mention]. I particularly enjoyed the judo. Sadly, I am not sure that Bree did.
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Post by Caesar73 »

[mention]Beaumains[/mention] Yuna teaching Bree Martial Arts is a great idea - and I liked especially the End Yuna saying to Bree that she should tie Yunas´s leg, so that it would be even fight!
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Post by Nainur »

GreyLord wrote: 2 years ago Excellent, @Beaumains. I particularly enjoyed the judo. Sadly, I am not sure that Bree did.
Indeed.
It is in a way a disturbing read, which is not a critic concerning the quality of the writing: I call it excellent! I very much agree to the fact that it is not vanilla and not 'gee, we are all happy together, had I only knew BDSM earlier"-stuff. However, Bree is still uncomfortable and rightly so: people are constantly assuming way too much. I see, why she is letting it happen. I just she will be well.

Again: I very much enjoy to read it incl. the judo! Keep on!
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