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

[Tieup1]

Another good read, I did like reading about what Bree thought about Yuna, and how she tried to draw her. If I was Bree, I would trust nobody, they all seem to be slightly weird characters, who maybe have their own agenda.

[Beaumains]

The next part is mostly talking, sorry about it, but there's a lot to discuss. The real bondage will return soon!

I would like to know more about Yuna. She seems more complex than most.

Thanks a lot! But it will take a few chapters until Bree returns to her.

Talking about trust issues... locking up the cage without Bree's consent clearly won't help her to trust Miriam.

I hope Bree can, eventually, trust all the people at the inn but... they aren't making it any easier.

Yeah, if Miriam wanted to gain Bree's trust, it was a major mistake. Locking the room would have been a better idea.

Another good read, I did like reading about what Bree thought about Yuna, and how she tried to draw her. If I was Bree, I would trust nobody, they all seem to be slightly weird characters, who maybe have their own agenda.

I am not really an artist myself, so describing that creative process was not easy, but I thought it was a fun way to describe Bree's thoughts. And to counter your points: Who is not weird? Who does not have their own agenda? It's a bondage inn.

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“Follow me. We got a little breakroom where our staff can hang out,” Miriam briefed me as she led me through the musty corridors at the back of the inn. “Did you have a good shower? There’s no better way to start the day.”

“Yeah.” Showering at the start of the day weirded me out. I paid ten bucks a month for a gym subscription to shower twice during the slow hours late in the morning. That was all. As the waitresses had forgotten to retrieve my clothes from the washing machine, I wore black tights, an olive green knee-long skirt, a black shirt, and a thin mint green woolen jumper. The Maiden’s selection of leftover clothes was meager.

“Bree, you already met Alison. Kimberly sits next to her,” Miriam announced as she opened a door. A bright red sofa, faded green armchair, tiny kitchen, and a dozen navy blue lockers were all crammed into the windowless room. Coils of rope in many colors hung from the ceiling, and gags and cuffs were doodled on the many old posters of celebrities and porn stars.

“Hey, Bree! Come here,” Alison said. She shoved a foot away on the couch against her girlfriend, a brunette with curly hair that almost concealed her face, while she balanced her pancakes. They both wore blue jeans and matching grey pullovers with on the front, ‘The Tangled Maiden’ spelled in a font that resembled ropes.

I complied and sat down and placed my bag between my legs while hiding my nerves. Miriam delivered me a stack of pancakes with a royal amount of maple syrup dripping down. Enough reason to avoid any gazes and stare down.

“And? Did you like last night? Yuna got you all trussed up,” Alison said. With her freely dangling ebony hair and ordinary clothes – no skimpy black dress with a white petticoat, red lipstick, and creepy headband – I would have never expected her to accept such a job. I sat next to a girl that passed me hundreds of times each day. “Come on, tell us!”

“It was fun. Yuna was kind and empathetic.”

“So you liked it?”

I was hesitant: Did I like the bondage or only the companionship? It was time to dodge another question. “Yeah, it was certainly not uncomfortable.”

“That’s cool. Did you like the straitjacket? You appeared so relaxed.”

I placed my fork with a large chunk of pancake back on my plate, and Miriam beamed at me from the armchair. “It was odd, not being able to move, that is, but Yuna released me after the arranged time. I felt I could trust her, so I had no actual worries.” After the words had left my mouth, I noticed it had been a sneer towards Miriam. Apparently, I could not rely on her word.

“Thus, it did not hurt?” Alison continued. “You were relaxed? That’s so good.”

“After a while, my legs stung, but I suppose that was intended. And Yuna played games with me that were, well – um – to phrase it carefully, stressful.”

Alison’s face almost pressed into mine, which bothered me more than her. My woolen jumper turned static, and I moved aside. Something jingled, and I spotted a grey chain running between Kimberly’s wrists. “Yuna teases everyone. Paying with her prey, she calls it, but she’s gentle and compassionate and would never intend to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, she focused on safe signals. I liked that.”

“You should. They’re crucial,” Miriam interfered, making her presence known. I ignored the woman who had locked me into a cage without my consent. Sure, if I had screamed for help, she might have released me, and otherwise, running off in the early morning like the week prior had not been unlikely, but that was not the point. A promise had been broken, as per usual.

“Will ya be here next Friday too?” Alison inquired with a full mouth. “Thanksgiving is always great here, and if you are fine with, or even like, being tied, it is unforgettable. You’ll also meet plenty of other cool people.”

“I’m not sure yet. I haven’t planned anything that day.”

“Cool, consider yourself invited. No one should be spending Thanksgiving alone.”

I smiled. I seldom spent Thanksgiving alone as it was one of the most charitable days of the year. I could get a portion of turkey from a soup kitchen with ease. Black Friday was even better, and I often bought clothes and small electronics at a decent discount.

“Yeah, we hope to see you next week,” Miriam confirmed. “If you need help in the meantime, a meal, bed, or whatever, here’s a notebook with names, phone numbers, and email addresses of about twenty people from here. Don’t be afraid to contact someone if you’re in need. Each wants to help you.”

“Much appreciated,” I replied and put the gift in my bag. Often people had made such promises before they vanished.

“Now eat your pancakes; they are getting cold. Do you want tea?”

The magic of warm food and drinks did wonders at this time of the year. I picked earl grey from the teabox, and it warmed my stomach together with the sweet pancakes. They were delicious. I thanked Miriam, but my interrogation was not over yet.

“How’s your homework going?” Miriam asked with a sugarcoated voice. “I heard your pencil this morning. Are you making any progress?”

Apparently, everyone had to know I had homework. “I was working on another project.”

“Shouldn’t you start as soon as possible? Then the image is still fresh in your mind.”

“That’s not an issue. I won’t forget.”

“So it’ll be ready next week? I’m curious how you picture yourself.” I stared at a cinematic poster of a nude girl running in the forest with deep red stripes all over her body. It was titled Inevitable Pain Productions. I could not imagine myself in that situation.

“I can’t promise anything.”

“But you’ll at least do it, right?” Miriam pushed too obvious. Alison and Kimberly – who had stayed silent so far – finally understood there was tension. I was not just shy.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Why not? Is it too difficult, or do you dislike making art of yourself in bondage? Yuna would love to see the drawing, even if you’re not content with the result.”

“I dislike self-portraits. I prefer to draw others,” I said without any intonations as I glared into Miriam’s eyes. Was it so hard to understand?

Miriam stared at me, finally able to shut up. Kimberly dared to speak with a trembling voice. “Why not? You are not ugly and have a truly unique look. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

I wanted to reply how often my ‘unappetizing’ scar had cost me a job, including as a waitress. It was a neverending continuation of the unfortunate, fatal evening that had smudged my hopes and dreams. It never ended.

“So, what did you draw this morning?” Alison said more wisely, and to make the conversation lighter, I removed my drawing of Yuna from my backpack.

“It’s unfinished,” I stumbled before I accepted all praise. Yuna lacked a neck. I put it away and focused on my pancakes as it was clear I was done talking. Everyone focused on finishing their own breakfast, and I couldn’t care less the social, cozy atmosphere was gone. “Thank you a lot for the dinner and breakfast,” I said to Miriam before inquiring when my clothes would be dry.

“About ninety minutes,” was the reply. “Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Not specifically. I wanted to sell a few drawings in the city center as it’s almost Thanksgiving.”

“How much do you charge?” Miriam inquired.

“Most of the time, twenty. It’s cheap paper, and I’m a no-name street artist without an easel. That’s what people want to pay, and asking more causes issues with the police.”

“Twenty, you said?” Miriam confirmed. “That’s not much. Marlon’s beginner’s bondage class starts in ten minutes and takes two hours. Is that enough time? I can help you gain a customer there. What do you reckon? It’s warm inside.”

[slackywacky]

It seems we all need a background chapter occasionally

All signals still seem to indicate that she can trust these people. Wonder if she will be proven wrong.
Very nice update.

[GreyLord]

It just seems to be too good to be true. My spidey senses are tingling. Still, it is a good read.

[Tieup1]

Everybody seems willing to help. I think there will soon be a lot of competition for Bree's attention.

[Mineira1986]

Mmm, I don't know, Bree. Should you keep trusting Miriam?

For the sake of Bree, I'm not sure that's the right call. For the readers... I hope she does.

More than a little tension there. Will it come to a final showdown between the two? Sounds to me that the whole situation will explode eventually. Or maybe not.

[Beaumains]

It seems we all need a background chapter occasionally

All signals still seem to indicate that she can trust these people. Wonder if she will be proven wrong.
Very nice update.

But is is a positive indication sufficient? If Bree is, say, 90 percent sure. Is it worth the ten percent that throwing herself in this world could lead to truly horrible, maybe even fatal, events? Thanks a lot for your comment.

It just seems to be too good to be true. My spidey senses are tingling. Still, it is a good read.

And that are especially the moments you have to be careful . Thanks a lot!

Everybody seems willing to help. I think there will soon be a lot of competition for Bree's attention.

Undoubtedly many would want to tie up the sweet new girl, whether Bree allows that, is a different question.

Mmm, I don't know, Bree. Should you keep trusting Miriam?

For the sake of Bree, I'm not sure that's the right call. For the readers... I hope she does.

More than a little tension there. Will it come to a final showdown between the two? Sounds to me that the whole situation will explode eventually. Or maybe not.

haha, Bree running away to never return now would be a little anticlimactic. Their figurative dance has not ended yet.

[slackywacky]

But is is a positive indication sufficient? If Bree is, say, 90 percent sure. Is it worth the ten percent that throwing herself in this world could lead to truly horrible, maybe even fatal, events?

Can we ever get 100% with tie-ups? I could be sitting tied to a chair tonight and be as safe as I can be, but it will never be 100%, even when I did everything myself and am sitting in a safe environment. I suspect the question can only be really answered in hindsight, which could mean Bree is dead after a fatal event (that was not planned as being one).

Walking to the supermarket could be fatal, sitting in your house could be fatal, typing this text could be fatal, life will never give you 100%. The question therefore is not can you get 100% certainty, but what percentage do you want to accept as a risk. If Bree accepts 90%, than go for it girl, enjoy this world you want to be part off, just remember that you left that 10% as a possible risk.

[Beaumains]

But is is a positive indication sufficient? If Bree is, say, 90 percent sure. Is it worth the ten percent that throwing herself in this world could lead to truly horrible, maybe even fatal, events?

Can we ever get 100% with tie-ups? I could be sitting tied to a chair tonight and be as safe as I can be, but it will never be 100%, even when I did everything myself and am sitting in a safe environment. I suspect the question can only be really answered in hindsight, which could mean Bree is dead after a fatal event (that was not planned as being one).

Walking to the supermarket could be fatal, sitting in your house could be fatal, typing this text could be fatal, life will never give you 100%. The question therefore is not can you get 100% certainty, but what percentage do you want to accept as a risk. If Bree accepts 90%, than go for it girl, enjoy this world you want to be part off, just remember that you left that 10% as a possible risk.

You are completely right. You can never ban all the risk. But this is not a 1 in a billion guess. Also, you might recall that in the first few parts, Bree mostly spoke about 99% percent probabilities, and still not wanting to do that too often. Taking such shots too often is a severe risk.

And to add to your chair analogy: Leaving someone alone, increases the risk. Do this while they are gagged increases the risk even more. Doing all of this with a suspension instead of a chair tie, increases the risk even further. Add a rope around the neck, and then we can agree hopefully agree that it is certainly dangerous. It is hard to attach concrete numbers to these risks, and if you take such a risk every week, the chances of nothing ever happening decrease exponentially.

For Bree, it is hard to decide what she wants from this odd bunch of strangers, what the risk is, what the potential gain could be, and how often she has to take such a risk. Remember, Yuna's offer also had some strings attached.

[slackywacky]

[For Bree, it is hard to decide what she wants from this odd bunch of strangers, what the risk is, what the potential gain could be, and how often she has to take such a risk.

And that makes this story such a great read!

[tickletied84]

I agree - there's a real sense of intrigue, about not knowing if Bree is going to be safe in the next chapter, enjoy herself, or escape back to her world for a while. Wonderfully written!

[Caesar73]

This Chapter was most illuminating The conversations were really interessting: What Bree felt for instance - and Miriam? I understand that Bree shows her the cold shoulder, I still wonder what her Agenda really is ....

[Beaumains]

Today's part is a bit longer than usual as I could not find a good spot to cut it off earlier.

I agree - there's a real sense of intrigue, about not knowing if Bree is going to be safe in the next chapter, enjoy herself, or escape back to her world for a while. Wonderfully written!

Thanks a lot!

This Chapter was most illuminating The conversations were really interessting: What Bree felt for instance - and Miriam? I understand that Bree shows her the cold shoulder, I still wonder what her Agenda really is ....

Thanks a lot. Bree is almost paranoia of friendly people, and whether or not the hostess of the bondage inn wants to help, Bree will have problems trusting her. In the next chapter, there will be less talking and some more serious bondage.

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My doubts had revived themselves in the time between my breakfast and the start of Marlon’s bondage class. Miriam was charismatic and knew how to pressure me subtly into anything. She was as sly as a fox, like everyone here. Therefore, I had to rely on facts, and most were dubious at best. Had Alison’s car broken down? Does this inn not have one spare mattress lying around? Had someone forgotten to dry my clothes?

The Tangled Maiden had made so many coincidental errors, and Miriam had lied before: She had locked the cage. It all could be white lies, but it would be a good sign if they turned out to be factual.

“Alison, Alison, can I ask you something?” I said, walking towards the departing waitresses. “What’s wrong with your car? Can I help in any way?”

Alison reddened. “Um, it wasn’t broken,” she replied to my surprise. “I locked myself out, and my only other roommate was at a party. She’s waiting outside with the spare key.”

“Okay, have a nice weekend.”

Due to the inn’s tinted windows, I would have to shadow Kimberly and Alison outside, which would be even more apparent than my awkward interrogation. Their response had appeared genuine, and I regretted not having my lockpicks on me even more. I had never broken into a car but knew how to open one. To spend the rest of the time, I completed my drawing of Yuna at a free table. At least I trusted her more now.

Someone tapped on my shoulder. “Hey, you’re Bree, right?” a slender woman in her early thirties said. Her black braid danced on her shoulder blades. “I’m Joanne, and this’s Dennis,” she stated, pointing at a muscular man with short spiked hair. “Miriam informed me you could draw me during the tie-up lesson?”

“Hi, good morning. Yeah, that’s right,” I replied. I did not hide my drawing of Yuna to show my craft. I was not a total beginner. “I’m not too experienced with bondage but have drawn thousands of portraits and full-body sketches. What are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure,” Joanna said. “If I’m gagged, it wouldn’t fit well in the living room anyhow. What about the entire tie?”

“Then it might get hard to draw your face very accurately. I’m unsure how you’ll be tied up but assume that adding most of your torso would showcase you and your bondage.” I had to pretend to be professional, even though I had no idea what I was doing here.

“Miriam mentioned it’d be twenty. Is that fine by you?”

“Yeah, twenty, but I’ll only charge if you’re satisfied.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Joanna said. “I’ll change, and then we’ll see each other in class.”

I wished her goodbye, only to realize I was clueless about where I had to go. I collected my belongings, and at my request, Miriam directed me to another door into a room filled with intense natural light. Like a dance room, polished wood covered the floor, and one wall consisted of a gigantic mirror. Shiny steel hooks, pulleys, chains, and rails coated the ceiling, and rings were drilled into the floor. The room hovered somewhere between a medieval torture dungeon, a meat processing plant, and an empty fitness studio.

“Hey, you can sit over there,” Marlon pointed at a chair and desk that should belong in a middle school. “Good luck. You can do it.”

I grinned as Marlon turned to chatter with the two already present couples. The men wore casual t-shirts and jeans while the women wore black leotards. My presence had to startle them – a stranger observing and capturing their intimate moment – so I stared at the blank paper in front of me. As for any a paid gig, I would not use my cheap printer paper but a sheet from my sketchbook. My pencils were sharpened and my eraser clean. I was ready but nervous. Drawing for money was stressful as I had to perform while ruining my own doodles, like the ones of Yuna and Miriam, bore no consequences. Moreover, I had to portray someone stuck in a web of bondage.

When the fifth couple, Joanna and Dennis, entered, Marlon drove with a trolley with five clear plastic storage bins filled with brown hemp ropes into the room. His large body, bald head, and forked black beard still intimidated me. “Group, it’s week 10, so we’re entering the realms of the more advanced ties. As usual, you should not try these ties without anyone knowledgeable present. They’re dangerous. Today, we’ll start studying partial suspensions to produce our first full suspensions in a few weeks. Today’s goal is to provide comfort to our subs, and thus being photogenic would be a pleasant coincidence. Hence, we start without gags and blindfolds. Communicate well together. Any questions?”

Everyone bobbed their heads and started with the hip harnesses, which required much more rope but were unimpressive. Marlon emphasized them as they would carry most of the weight and had to spread the strain well. If they were sloppy, it would be painful instead of mildly uncomfortable. It scared me, as I had been promised two hours for my drawing but had squandered a quarter of that time without producing a single stroke.

I observed my subject, Joanna, closely. Her black leotard hugged her body, and she was spirited and bantered with her husband. She did not dislike or fear being tied up and actually looked forward to it. I was not to judge and noted I had to indicate this in my drawing. They made an adorable duo.

“Bree, this’s our pose,” Dennis spoke. He hooked a rope to the hip harness, ran it over a pulley, and secured it to a ring in the floor behind her. Joanna leaned backward and stood on her right leg as she raised her left leg and aimed it outwards. Her knee bent it back inward as she squeezed her heel against her butt. She lifted her arms up behind her head, and her wrists crossed. “It’ll take an hour to tie her, so could you make a start with this?”

“Totally! She looks great!” I replied. Calling someone beautiful made them smile. I pinched my eyes one last time to print this image in my mind and traced the outlines of Joanna’s body from her crotch and bent leg to her wrists. I wanted to get as many ropes in the tiny space while also saving room for important details like her facial expression.

I detailed her face as Dennis tied her while I hoped her expression would not change. Dennis would add ropes pretty much everywhere else, and I could not estimate how they would press into her skin. The inward-pointing cheeks of her diamond-shaped face amplified her cheekbones, especially as her nose was somewhat small and narrow. The black eyebrows above her dark brown eyes were almost straight and curved down into her eye sockets near her nose. She would age into a librarian, but her current joy hid her stern resting face well. Her eyes twinkled deviously, like a kid discovering how to raid the candy jar with a friend.

Then I moved down to her chest as Dennis had finished tying it. Ropes ran above, under, and between her breasts. He had also steered them behind her neck, both while crossing and not crossing before her throat, and together they produced a five-pointed star. On her back, it looked dreadful, but without knots on the front, it was not overly cruel and could feature in a high-range fashion show.

“Looks great, guys,” Marlon said when he came by before instructing how to improve the tie. A slight shift here, somewhat tighter there, and a knot in another direction made small, observable changes. For these people, bondage was an art form. Dennis was concentrated, and Joanna was silent and motionless and sometimes gazed at me with a synthetic laugh. I answered the smile and retreated to my drawing to not disturb her further. This job was as awkward for her.

Then Dennis fastened her left ankle to its upper leg and led a rope from the stump to a ceiling hook to force her leg almost vertical. He crossed her wrists and led the access rope up, and her right leg had become her sole movable limb and had to support her weight too to finalize his wife’s predicament.

“You good, honey?”

“Absolutely!” Joanna replied. Her foot shuffled on the floor. “This’s so awesome.”

“Ready for the next step?”

Joanna agreed, and Dennis walked behind her to release the rope leading to her hip harness. He refastened it tighter, so his wife had to balance on the front of her foot. That would take its toll. Marlon praised his work and suggested adding a big black ball-gag, earplugs, and a blindfold so “she could experience the complexity of the position.”

This gave me enough time to finish my drawing. I had worked hard and began to like the result. The effects of the ropes on Joanna’s skin were manageable: slight dents at best without discoloration or marks. The hemp itself was not a challenge: It had a clear winding pattern with sometimes a sprig bending away sideways. It grabbed onto her skin.

“Oh, wow, that’s marvelous,” I heard behind me. Dennis leaned over my shoulder. “You captured the essence of Joanna. How much more time do you need?”

“Thanks, about fifteen minutes.”

“Mind If I lower her already? She struggles.”

“No, no, go ahead. I only need to add a background and minor details.”

As loads of white space remained on the paper, I drew Joanna’s mirror image in the giant mirror. As it was the background, I could omit details and make it unsharp. A few more lines later, it was clear the wall was a mirror, and once I rechecked every part and made lesser changes, I was done. It was far from flawless and incomparable with Michelangelo, Da Vinci, or Rembrandt but not bad for ninety minutes of uninterrupted work. I could charge 20 bucks without being a beggar.

“Holy, uh, Bree, that’s incredible!” Joanna cursed as I handed her the drawing. She had been untied save for her chest bondage. “Claire! Come here, you gotta see this.” Another woman approached my desk, and I flushed as a swelling crowd praised my hasty sketch. “Twenty was the deal, right? You’ll get thirty.”

Although the words were hers, Dennis faithfully removed three tenners from his wallet. “We’ll continue in a private room,” he winked and seized his wife’s arm.

[Caesar73]

My doubts had revived themselves in the time between my breakfast and the start of Marlon’s bondage class. Miriam was charismatic and knew how to pressure me subtly into anything. She was as sly as a fox, like everyone here. Therefore, I had to rely on facts, and most were dubious at best. Had Alison’s car broken down? Does this inn not have one spare mattress lying around? Had someone forgotten to dry my clothes?

The Tangled Maiden had made so many coincidental errors, and Miriam had lied before: She had locked the cage. It all could be white lies, but it would be a good sign if they turned out to be factual.

In my opinon one of the Key Parts of the Chapter: Bree sees fully behind Miriam´s facade.

The drawing sequence was really well written too!

[Mineira1986]

Oh, it's so rewarding to see Bree getting a win. She gets some money and probably a more permanent costumer (or costumers, once the word is spread). Maybe even a job as sketch artist for the inn?

[Beaumains]

In my opinon one of the Key Parts of the Chapter: Bree sees fully behind Miriam´s facade.

The drawing sequence was really well written too!

Thanks a lot! But is it really a facade? Bree has only tested one of her three questions and was not able to disproof Miriam's claim.

Oh, it's so rewarding to see Bree getting a win. She gets some money and probably a more permanent costumer (or costumers, once the word is spread). Maybe even a job as sketch artist for the inn?

Excellent guess and certainly one of the paths I had in mind for Bree. I think the inn would be able to generate more customers that would pay well, but then Bree has to return, and I doubt there alone is not enough demand to support her to get of the street and into her own place. It are mostly regulars.

[Tieup1]

Interesting chapter, nice to see Bree getting some reward for her work. Still think she should be wary of some folk, but with her talent she could make plenty of good friends.

[Beaumains]

Interesting chapter, nice to see Bree getting some reward for her work. Still think she should be wary of some folk, but with her talent she could make plenty of good friends.

Thanks a lot!

This will be the last part likely for a few weeks.

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It was Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, and I walked to my spot with my belly stuffed with roast potatoes and chicken from a charity dinner. I had spoken with my social worker, who kept insisting I had to get a job, no matter what it was, and that I had to find a safer place to sleep. Work was often awful, paid nothing, illegal, and short-lived, all due to having no address and that horrible scar. She also urged me to stay in contact with the city, but I ignored that advice. I was not an alcoholic, drug addict, mother, pregnant, or veteran, so there were no special grants for me. They had nothing to offer. I managed but could never make rent of a place of my own.

The regulars tried less to ruin my mood. The vets, world travelers, and delusional artists had no intention of harming anyone and always told the most fantastic tales of war and bizarre road trips in far-away states.

I checked twice over my shoulder before I entered the dirty alleyway between two old warehouses. No one was watching. As it was ten in the evening, it was pitch-black, and the streets here were mostly deserted. I followed my usual route and hopped onto a pile of pallets and through the old Styrofoam towards the ventilation shaft. Time for bed. I was tired, and a full, heated stomach always made good nights.

“Hey, you!” a bear-like scream shouted from the darkness ahead. I jumped up. Next to the ventilation shaft was an emergency door and a little area with less trash. Then a flashlight blinded me. “You that tramp living illegally at our place?”

“Uh, yes, sorry, I --.”

“Get here.”

This was not something I could ignore or run away from. Two men stood towered over me, and all my belongings lay on the layers of dirt and broken glass. My clothes, rucksack, sleeping bag, sleeping mat, drawings, toiletries, and other possessions. Everything.

“As your sort usually wrecks the property of hard-working folk, I won’t call the police,” the short man growled. He pushed his jacket away to show a gun around his belt. “Are you armed?”

“No, no, I mean no harm. I just wanted to sleep peacefully.”

“Get your junk and fuck off. Never come back. This’s no hotel.”

The long one stepped forward with cash in his hands. “If you miss anything, we took due rent. That’s fair as you’re a parasite of society. Now get on your knees and grab your rubbish. Quick.”

Humiliated, I got down and pressed my clothes in the big hiking rucksack. Dirt and wood splinters covered most, so I had to go to the laundromat tomorrow. I rolled my soggy sleeping mat and sleeping bag up and tied them to my rucksack, pushed my other belongings in, and kept my tent in my hand. Then I made my way out without saying anything else.

On the streets, I ran away as fast as I could with the big rucksack on my back, the small one on my chest, and the tent in my hand. I had almost died. Or worse. I ran multiple blocks, imagining how much worse this encounter could have gone wrong. What if they encounter had happened when I was already inside? I had been here for months and had never seen or heard someone. I thought I would not bother anyone by claiming the old, unused ventilation shaft. What had been my mistake? I had feared the snow winter would bring, but I had a few weeks left to find a better place. Had I been uncareful this morning?

I could not search for answers now. I was alive but screwed and without my emergency savings, about 500 dollars. But that was merely money. I had everything to survive, and the 35 dollars I had made today were enough to buy food for a few days. Now I had to find a place to pitch my tent and postpone all my problems until tomorrow.

I stopped to sit down on a bench and think. Which parks were the closest? Large? Plenty of vegetation to hide in between? Safety first, so I decided to go to the state park at the edge of the city. It was an hour-long walk, but I decided to make a detour to avoid the drunk crowds before a federal holiday. It was a few degrees above freezing, and it rained slightly, but I couldn’t care less. There were worse things in this world.

“Watcha doin’, girl, so late at night?” I heard as a car slowed to roll down next to me. I moved to the other side of the sidewalk and ignored the man. Never show emptions. “C’mon, what ya doin’ alone with a big bag?” I ignored him. Running would be useless, and I had only a knife in my pocket to defend myself.

Then blue lights flashed up. “Madam, fleeing the police is a serious event. Stand still.” I sighed, turned around, and showed my empty hands. Luck had not been merciful tonight. The police agent left his car. “You’re homeless, right?” For whatever reason, he still wore his head and sunglasses. “I’ve seen you before. Can I see your ID?”

“Yes, sir, I’m indeed homeless,” I replied, showing him my ID.

“And you’re carrying all your belongings with you?”

I despised his attitude. “Yes, sir, this is everything I own.”

“That’s a tent. Are you planning to camp out tonight?”

“Yes, sir. The owners of the property I was planning to spend the night requested me to leave.”

“As you should know, camping is illegal on city grounds as it severely tarnishes the view. Hence, as you admitted to planning to do so, I’ll confiscate your tent. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” I said. A new decent tent was far more than my current savings. “I will move of city property.”

“Give it to me. I’d recommend you to go to a shelter tonight. It’s cold and wet, and a young woman like you should not be alone at night, especially the day before Thanksgiving. Is there still space?”

“I doubt it. It mostly fills around eight,” I replied, having that heard of other homeless people.

“You can come with me to the police station. You can sleep in jail. There it is at least warm.”

“Sir, thank you for the offer, but I’ve had bad experiences at such places. I’d prefer to spend the night on the streets.”

There was no one else around, and this cop lacked a partner, so I would not jump into a car with him. “I’m sorry to hear that,” the man replied. He creeped me out. “But a girl like you takes a severe risk. The tramps don’t care about consent.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

“That’s up to you. Have a good night,” he said, flinging my tent into the back of the car before he left. Now I was alone and had lost both my plans A, B, C, and D when it came down to a place to sleep. My tent was gone, the shelter had no place left, and I had not enough money for a bed at a hostel. Luckily, it was only half an hour until midnight, so it was only half a night I had to spend in the cold. All bridges and porches had been made home-made proof long ago, so I had no chance to stay dry anyhow.

I walked to a nearby park and sat down on a bench as the rain dripped over my jacket. Everything had gone wrong tonight. I was cold, tired, and miserable, and even cried. What had I done wrong? Should I not have carried my tent in plain view? Should I have opted for the closest park? Why me? I caused no trouble and did not litter. Why was life so cruel?

I sat there for half an hour, alone. I balled my fists as my fingers had lost feeling. My wet face hurt. “Why?” I kept asking myself as it had been at least two years since I had been at such a low.

Then I remembered Miriam’s notebook with names, phone numbers, and email addresses. It was late to message anyone, and the likely rejection would make me even sadder, and if I succeeded, I likely had to go inside someone’s home.

“But I’ve to get up and move either way,” I told myself. Cell phone contracts are expensive, so I could not call nor had internet and had to walk the nearest fast-food restaurant to have internet. My legs hurt as I stood up, but I persisted and sat down in a corner next to a closed donut shop. After warming my fingers between my legs, I selected five people I remembered, Miriam, Marlon, Yuna, Dax and Ginny, and Alison. I explained what had happened, where I was, and how long I would wait. I pressed the send bottom and put my phone away.

Then, fifteen minutes, a car flashed its lights, and I left my hiding spot. Someone had come for me.

[GreyLord]

Bree is caught in a tight web. Part of it is of her own makings. Her past experiences and fears have codified into harsh rules of her behavior. Also, part is that Bree, like all of us, has been swept up by events over which she has had little or no control. The folk at the Inn are showing kindness but Bree knows that the milk of human kindness is sometimes just a cover for ulterior motives.

I will continue to hope for the best for Bree.

[Mineira1986]

Darn, that chapter was... hard.

One cannot help but feel sorry and for Bree. I can only hope the person who appeared at the end is a friend and not somebody else like James for example.

Very well written as always. I'll wait patiently for the next part.

[Caesar73]

Darn, that chapter was... hard.

I concur. It was hard to read how Bree was treated by the so law abiding citizens. How she had to grab her belongings how she was robbed. Simply heartbreaking.

[Tieup1]

Bree has had a hard time, she is cold and wet, and is feeling real low, and very vulnerable.

I hope whoever has come to help her, will be kind to her, and not exploit the situation she finds herself in.

[Beaumains]

Bree is caught in a tight web. Part of it is of her own makings. Her past experiences and fears have codified into harsh rules of her behavior. Also, part is that Bree, like all of us, has been swept up by events over which she has had little or no control. The folk at the Inn are showing kindness but Bree knows that the milk of human kindness is sometimes just a cover for ulterior motives.

I will continue to hope for the best for Bree.

Thanks a lot for your comment! Everything you say is true. Bree is indeed flawed, and her fear and stubbornness made her make some bad decisions during an awful night.

Darn, that chapter was... hard.

One cannot help but feel sorry and for Bree. I can only hope the person who appeared at the end is a friend and not somebody else like James for example.

Very well written as always. I'll wait patiently for the next part.

Thank you very much! I will keep it a secret who is in that car and whether Bree agrees to go with them.

Darn, that chapter was... hard.

I concur. It was hard to read how Bree was treated by the so law abiding citizens. How she had to grab her belongings how she was robbed. Simply heartbreaking.

Thanks! When I researched what it was like to be homeless and living on the streets, many reports had stories like this. Many people are very harsh on the homeless. It is heartbreaking, but despite the horrible coincidence and bad luck, I don't think I was exaggerating.

Bree has had a hard time, she is cold and wet, and is feeling real low, and very vulnerable.

I hope whoever has come to help her, will be kind to her, and not exploit the situation she finds herself in.

That would be really harsh of me, wouldn't it? To punish her even further with more bad luck would be very cruel. But we'll see...

[Caesar73]

Darn, that chapter was... hard.

I concur. It was hard to read how Bree was treated by the so law abiding citizens. How she had to grab her belongings how she was robbed. Simply heartbreaking.

Thanks! When I researched what it was like to be homeless and living on the streets, many reports had stories like this. Many people are very harsh on the homeless. It is heartbreaking, but despite the horrible coincidence and bad luck, I don't think I was exaggerating.

No, it is sad to say, but on the contrary I did not think that you exaggerated, absolutely not .

The sad truth is that scenes like the one, where Bree is mistreated are happening every day around the world. It is the realism that makes that scene so hard to read.

[Beaumains]

I somewhere found time to write the next part.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“My head hurts,” was my first thought when I woke. Like a chick aching to break out its eggshell, waves of sharp pain bounced against the inside of my skull.

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but an endless pit of a black void. Even the faintest of lights of electronic appliances lacked in my vision.

I attempted to drag my heels towards my bottoms to stretch them. Zero; My legs were squeezed together and held down by something. Then I noticed I was blindfolded.

“Had I been mistaken?” I asked myself. “Why had I trusted her? It was quite the strategy to lure me into their trust and then betray me when I was vulnerable and alone. Why had I mailed these people? My internal rules forbade couch surfing, I could have undoubtedly survived the night in that park, and I bloody well know what they do in their games. Nonetheless, her hug had been so tender when she had picked me up.”

I calmed my breath and listened: metal clanked about 20 feet away like cuffs against a rigid surface. I pushed my hands outside the cozy cocoon. “Strange, they aren’t stuck,” I felt as they left the warmth and moved up and pulled off the blindfold, a sleeping mask, to be precise. My savior had rolled a second blanket tightly around me and shoved it down between the sky blue couch cushions while I slept. I sat upright in the tiny apartment and faced a TV. Bookcases covered the walls, and little side tables bore stacks of unorganized papers.

“Mornin’ Bree. As I warned you, my couch is hard, and my lair is a depressing mess. Did you sleep well?”

“No, no, it was excellent,” I replied and apologized to my hostess in my mind. My headache vanished. “Thanks a lot again. You’re my hero.”

The Japanese woman with hazel-brown eyes wore a hideous yellow apron coated with flour. She sat down next to me on the couch and rested her arm on my shoulder. “What did you expect? We would leave you there in the rain in the middle of the night?” Yuna examined, and a tear ran across my cheek. “You’re tired, aren’t you? Miriam mentioned you rose very early at the Maiden.”

I nodded, and the cotton nightdress that clenched against my back revealed I had been sweating tonight.

“I’m going to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family this evening and promised to bring dessert,” Yuna sighed, patting me five times on my back. “I’m way too clumsy, but my cake at least contains much passion and emotion.”

Yuna simpered at her joke as I realized I would be lasting on the street alone to observe Thanksgiving. Free food would be plenty, but I had nowhere to spend to sleep.

“No, no, no sad faces today. A couple of friends from the Maiden celebrate it together, and I’ll drop you off there, so you won’t be by yourself and have a real bed tonight. Why don’t you grab a shower? I laid out a towel and fresh clothes.”

I agreed and obliged. Yuna’s bathroom was, like her apartment, the size of a stamp. The three-foot-wide oval-shaped shower enclosed me like a giant tube. When I turned it on, hot water began running over my back as steam filled the cabin. I had never visited a spa but envisioned it like this. To save water, I shut the valve within minutes and sat down on the foldaway chair to enjoy the hot steam. I was clean, and my skin softened. This was much more luxurious and pleasant than the ruthless water cannons at the gym. Fifteen minutes later, I got out, dried myself with the super-soft towel, and studied what kind of clothes I would be wearing today. According to Yuna, mine were all dirty, so I had to borrow replacements once more. There were two piles, one much higher than the other, and in their midst lay a note.

Hey! Hopefully, you slept well. To state this directly, I would love to do another fun tie-up with you, but the decision is, of course, yours. If you still feel dreadful or exhausted or aren’t in the mood, we won’t do anything, and I’ll not push you any further. Select an outfit, as you should be able to figure out which is which. Yuna[\I]

I read the writing twice before I recovered from the question. Yuna understood that sugarcoating would decrease her odds and only make the conversation awkward and put me on the spot. I had time to consider at my own pace. She had been considerate and trustworthy in the inn, but now I was in her home with nobody else. However, if she had desired to devastate me and fasten me forcefully, she could have done it when I was knocked out. The Green Viper could break my arms before I would notice her. It was safe. Next up, did I fancy more bondage? I was indifferent, but last Friday had been kinda enjoyable, and Yuna had provided me with a warm bed in the darkest of hours following one email. I had no reason to be a disrespectful guest. You don’t get owt for nowt.

The smallest pile contained one garment: a high-quality sleeveless leotard. Its open back and calm spirals in a pastel lavender shade mixed with white made me appreciate Yuna’s courage to offer this choice. It was skimpy but not like an attention seeker. I changed and surveyed myself in the mirror to conclude the inevitable: I looked unquestionably ridiculous. The white rubbery material was translucent, but the purple hid my nipples and private parts. I regretted my swift conclusion and took a deep breath before facing the embarrassment.

“Oh, wow, Bree,” Yuna beamed. “Has anyone called you beautiful already today? You’re absolutely stunning. I, uh, had not expected, how to phrase it, that your --.”

I gazed and spoke after a moment. “Say it.” I have had to hear countless nasty discussions that reviewed my peculiarities.

“Eh, that your skin looks like that. Sorry, this’s really inappropriate, but um, it’s so pale.”

The skin color of ordinary humans was not uniform as some areas received more natural light. My body could not produce melatonin, so it was all stark white, like when an artist forgot that shadows and texture existed. “I understand.”

“I made you a big bowl of cereal for breakfast, cinnamon crunch with loads of sugar. That’s a great idea before I tie you up. What do you want? Coffee, tea, orange juice?”

“Water is fine.”

“So tea?”

“Water’s okay.”

Yuna’s eyes flashed before a broad commercial smile fueled her face. “Earl grey it shall be. Stand up for yourself, Bree, and not always choose the cheapest option. You’re my guest and not a burden. Remember that.