Re: Damsels4you - F/F+ Part 2 added (13.10.21)
Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2021 8:43 am
Firstly I'd like to thank each and everyone of you that's both read this tale and those who've left their thoughts and comments. While admitting this latest update will lead up to the next bondage scene rather than including the activities. But still with that said I'd advise you take the time to read. As then the actions that follow will make more sense.
[mention]Syko Sith[/mention], [mention]GreyLord[/mention], [mention]gagged86[/mention], [mention]MrBind[/mention], [mention]NotSeen[/mention], [mention]Switcher1313[/mention], [mention]run2win98[/mention], [mention]Mask6190[/mention]
Damsels4you
Part three.
Change is in the air.
Staring.
Dakkota Grey
(Image courtesy of bondage mischief)
As Lesley (Carven) Watson
Impatiently Eleanor paced the corridors of her childhood. The dark sunglasses she wore hiding the sadness and pain in her normally steely twinkling eyes. For the thoughts of the name calling. Of the other children stepping back. Shunning her daily. Of humiliation and pain she suffered still seeming so raw. So fresh. Even after so many years.
From side to side her head sprung, as if on a pivot. While she passed each and everyone of the classrooms that had held such horrific memories. As she crossed through the old assembly hall. That had once doubled as the dining room. Where. If truth be told she received her only warm substantial meal of the day. As she crossed the former gymnasium that had often been where she was brunt of the torment and embarrassment.
Constantly she watched the set designers. Most commonly employed in theatre or television. As they added the finishing touches to the alterations she’d demanded.
Carefully she scrutinised the clean up efforts of the construction crews. Who’s skills had been tested. Almost to breaking point at times. Thanks to the strict time constraints. To the unusual requirements. Requirements such as the floating staircases. That travelled upwards towards nowhere in particular. Such as creating the image of a basement where one didn’t exist. Transforming the former toilets into functioning bathrooms. With showers, basins and of course bathtubs. Classrooms in bedrooms, offices, storerooms and more besides.
But still the site foreman stepped forward. Announced that all would be completed on time. That his crews would have everything in place for Eleanor stated deadline. That his crews would have taken all necessary actions to clear up any remaining materials, or debris.
Though they knew not what she had in mind. That their actions would in theory. Mark the arrival of Eleanor’s first guest. Her first helpless damsel. Would ensure she could select whatever set. Whatever scene. She may desire. At the time. Whether the poor unfortunate woman like it or not.
So smiling. She thanked him. Having not expected anything else. Professionally she had informed him. Informed his crews. His own employees. And those he’d drafted in especially for the project. That a healthy bonus would be found in their pay packets. That she couldn’t be happier to hear the news. To know all was well. All was sorted.
And yet. Even as she had done so. As she’d stood their before him. If truth be known. Eleanor hadn’t even decided just who that first guest would be. Who would be the first damsel in distress.
Although. She had. Truth be told. Considered sampling the feeling for herself. With the help of her lover. Her normally submissive lover. Her lover that could do quite a job of switch roles when the mood took them. Or when it was clear she needed some special stress relief.
Had. In turn. Equally. Considered making Rebecca the first to experience the feeling of helplessness there within Grainger Town Primary. Debated making her the special one to break the ice. To celebrate the transformation. The transformation from schoolhouse to bondage centre.
But then. The decision was made for her. Made. When out of the corner of her eye she spotted the presence of a former nemesis. A former childhood nemesis. That had become. It would appear. The head set designer. A former childhood nemesis. That would. In Eleanor’s mind be the perfect test subject. That would. In Eleanor’s mind be the perfect damsel. Would finally allow her to dismiss some of the nightmares she still experienced.
“Well, well Lesley Carven as was”, Eleanor stated whilst spinning on the thin stiletto heels of her black calve hugging boots.
“Ohhhh. Errrrrr. Miss Richardson. I’m surprised you remember me after all these years”, the startled older woman stuttered. Freezing on the spot. Watching nervously as Eleanor approach. Determination in her stride.
“Ah. But my memories are as vivid now. As my fears were then”, came Eleanor’s rather venomous response. Even as for the first time. In almost three hours she removed her sunglasses. Revealed the burning intensity in her eyes.
“Which is why I think you’ll make the perfect test subject for Damsels4you. Why I think you can easily become the first of many an amateur starlet”, Eleanor added. Her normal casual but determined posture being replaced. With that of a cobra ready to strike.
“I’m, I’m sorry. But I don’t think that will be possible Miss Richardson”, the suddenly terrified woman stuttered. Whilst taking on the look of a fly trapped within a spiders web. For she knew all to well. What Eleanor wanted. Eleanor got.
“Oh no. It’s me that should be sorry. As I have to say it’s more than possible. For if you look at the contract you signed. It makes it clear your participation maybe be required”, Eleanor informed her pray. Informed the former hall monitor that had tortured her early years.
“And of course. That’s not to mention. If my memory serves me right. Were you not present here several weeks ago. When I held that very special meeting. As your husband David Watson is also in my employ”, Eleanor continued. Her smile turning into a blood chilling snarl.
“Yes, yes Miss Richardson. That’s true. He has worked for you for many, many years,” Lesley admitted. Feeling the need to lower her gaze. To examine the cold hard timber flooring at her feet. Before added weakly.
“But, but I have nothing to wear for such an activity”, even though she knew well enough she’d been defeated. Had been nailed to the cross by the venom of her former victim. The girl she’d always expected would be a failure. She’d expected to see begging on the street.
“Oh really from what I can see. What you’re wearing right now would be more than acceptable. Whether it be your office attire of what lies beneath”, Eleanor responded. With the meanest of grins.
Looking at what was externally. At least the attire of a respectable member of the society. What with the sensible. If a little short. Tight black skirt. Loose fitting. But pleasing to the eye. Grey satin blouse. And black nylons.
“So why don’t we just head off to a room I think you know all too well. A room where you made me feel so helpless. So weak and vulnerable”. Eleanor added taking the trembling woman by the arm. Directing her towards the classroom that had once been used for punishing wayward children.
[mention]Syko Sith[/mention], [mention]GreyLord[/mention], [mention]gagged86[/mention], [mention]MrBind[/mention], [mention]NotSeen[/mention], [mention]Switcher1313[/mention], [mention]run2win98[/mention], [mention]Mask6190[/mention]
Damsels4you
Part three.
Change is in the air.
Staring.
Dakkota Grey
(Image courtesy of bondage mischief)
As Lesley (Carven) Watson
Impatiently Eleanor paced the corridors of her childhood. The dark sunglasses she wore hiding the sadness and pain in her normally steely twinkling eyes. For the thoughts of the name calling. Of the other children stepping back. Shunning her daily. Of humiliation and pain she suffered still seeming so raw. So fresh. Even after so many years.
From side to side her head sprung, as if on a pivot. While she passed each and everyone of the classrooms that had held such horrific memories. As she crossed through the old assembly hall. That had once doubled as the dining room. Where. If truth be told she received her only warm substantial meal of the day. As she crossed the former gymnasium that had often been where she was brunt of the torment and embarrassment.
Constantly she watched the set designers. Most commonly employed in theatre or television. As they added the finishing touches to the alterations she’d demanded.
Carefully she scrutinised the clean up efforts of the construction crews. Who’s skills had been tested. Almost to breaking point at times. Thanks to the strict time constraints. To the unusual requirements. Requirements such as the floating staircases. That travelled upwards towards nowhere in particular. Such as creating the image of a basement where one didn’t exist. Transforming the former toilets into functioning bathrooms. With showers, basins and of course bathtubs. Classrooms in bedrooms, offices, storerooms and more besides.
But still the site foreman stepped forward. Announced that all would be completed on time. That his crews would have everything in place for Eleanor stated deadline. That his crews would have taken all necessary actions to clear up any remaining materials, or debris.
Though they knew not what she had in mind. That their actions would in theory. Mark the arrival of Eleanor’s first guest. Her first helpless damsel. Would ensure she could select whatever set. Whatever scene. She may desire. At the time. Whether the poor unfortunate woman like it or not.
So smiling. She thanked him. Having not expected anything else. Professionally she had informed him. Informed his crews. His own employees. And those he’d drafted in especially for the project. That a healthy bonus would be found in their pay packets. That she couldn’t be happier to hear the news. To know all was well. All was sorted.
And yet. Even as she had done so. As she’d stood their before him. If truth be known. Eleanor hadn’t even decided just who that first guest would be. Who would be the first damsel in distress.
Although. She had. Truth be told. Considered sampling the feeling for herself. With the help of her lover. Her normally submissive lover. Her lover that could do quite a job of switch roles when the mood took them. Or when it was clear she needed some special stress relief.
Had. In turn. Equally. Considered making Rebecca the first to experience the feeling of helplessness there within Grainger Town Primary. Debated making her the special one to break the ice. To celebrate the transformation. The transformation from schoolhouse to bondage centre.
But then. The decision was made for her. Made. When out of the corner of her eye she spotted the presence of a former nemesis. A former childhood nemesis. That had become. It would appear. The head set designer. A former childhood nemesis. That would. In Eleanor’s mind be the perfect test subject. That would. In Eleanor’s mind be the perfect damsel. Would finally allow her to dismiss some of the nightmares she still experienced.
“Well, well Lesley Carven as was”, Eleanor stated whilst spinning on the thin stiletto heels of her black calve hugging boots.
“Ohhhh. Errrrrr. Miss Richardson. I’m surprised you remember me after all these years”, the startled older woman stuttered. Freezing on the spot. Watching nervously as Eleanor approach. Determination in her stride.
“Ah. But my memories are as vivid now. As my fears were then”, came Eleanor’s rather venomous response. Even as for the first time. In almost three hours she removed her sunglasses. Revealed the burning intensity in her eyes.
“Which is why I think you’ll make the perfect test subject for Damsels4you. Why I think you can easily become the first of many an amateur starlet”, Eleanor added. Her normal casual but determined posture being replaced. With that of a cobra ready to strike.
“I’m, I’m sorry. But I don’t think that will be possible Miss Richardson”, the suddenly terrified woman stuttered. Whilst taking on the look of a fly trapped within a spiders web. For she knew all to well. What Eleanor wanted. Eleanor got.
“Oh no. It’s me that should be sorry. As I have to say it’s more than possible. For if you look at the contract you signed. It makes it clear your participation maybe be required”, Eleanor informed her pray. Informed the former hall monitor that had tortured her early years.
“And of course. That’s not to mention. If my memory serves me right. Were you not present here several weeks ago. When I held that very special meeting. As your husband David Watson is also in my employ”, Eleanor continued. Her smile turning into a blood chilling snarl.
“Yes, yes Miss Richardson. That’s true. He has worked for you for many, many years,” Lesley admitted. Feeling the need to lower her gaze. To examine the cold hard timber flooring at her feet. Before added weakly.
“But, but I have nothing to wear for such an activity”, even though she knew well enough she’d been defeated. Had been nailed to the cross by the venom of her former victim. The girl she’d always expected would be a failure. She’d expected to see begging on the street.
“Oh really from what I can see. What you’re wearing right now would be more than acceptable. Whether it be your office attire of what lies beneath”, Eleanor responded. With the meanest of grins.
Looking at what was externally. At least the attire of a respectable member of the society. What with the sensible. If a little short. Tight black skirt. Loose fitting. But pleasing to the eye. Grey satin blouse. And black nylons.
“So why don’t we just head off to a room I think you know all too well. A room where you made me feel so helpless. So weak and vulnerable”. Eleanor added taking the trembling woman by the arm. Directing her towards the classroom that had once been used for punishing wayward children.