Jester's Revenge. Or. Plymouth part II (MF+/F+) (FINISHED) (NEW story coming soon)

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.
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Post by RopeBunny »

All good then, excellent :) great.

You're right. Seems funny as a TUGs lover to think it, but there are some who wouldn't take kindly to wandering in on a naked busty tied up girl.

For some, like our poor hotel cleaner, this would count as a bad day :lol:
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Post by Switchgirl »

Catching up with most of your work!

This is the best! Love Plymouth as a character! Story is sexy as hell!
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Post by RopeBunny »

Switchgirl wrote: 1 year ago Story is sexy as hell!
Thanks :D
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Post by RopeBunny »

015.

"My." Turning to pat me on the shoulder, I tear my attention away from all the goth style clothing, the heavy metal and rock music- and anime -posters filling every spare inch of wall space in this small shop, turning back to Deborah, and the shop assistant she's talking to.

I can see her thinking, pausing for a moment on the next word.

"Girlfriend." Deborah's eyes dart sideways to me, she winks, I grin. "Wants to get her nipples pierced."

Wait. What? She does.

I. Do?

"Great." The assistant, a thirty something curvy lady with five hoops in her right ear and a full sleeve tattoo of jumping fishes on the same side, grins. Looks at me. "Any thoughts what you'd like?"
"Well." Stepping forwards to stare down into the display case, trying and failing to focus, seeing only a mass of silver and gold. Things. "Um."
"How about those." Deborah, pointing. The tone of her voice, to me at least, making it not a question.

Making it an order.

"Yes." I nod. Finally managing to focus. And. Um. Fuck me wow. "Those, please."
"Excellent." Unlocking the door on her side to grab my. Deborah's. Choice. "I've just got some forms for you to fill in, then we'll take you upstairs and fix you up."

Ten minutes later I'm back.

"Ha." Deborah, grinning at me, her eyes dancing in that way I can tell means she's at least a little bit turned on. "You should've worn a bra B."
"Nah." Shaking my head. "Can barely see them." I pull my tee down, tighter, flattening the white fabric against my F cups just to.

Well. Prove Deborah right of course.

Worth it, going braless, just to see her eyes.

"And besides." Brushing a hand against one of two shopping bags she wasn't holding when I went upstairs. "What did you do whilst I was gone, buy the whole shop?"

Already, because I didn't wear a bra, because I'm a tease, my nipples have been an on and off feature of the morning so far. My Hooters tee is a tight fit, which means my enhanced F cups, my large round cannons, stretch and strain against the thin fabric, with my nipples adding extra twin bumps each time Deborah and me kiss, or my traitor brain begins thinking about bondage, or the wind happens to blow.

The rings- dull gunmetal silver to match my snakebites, each one larger then a one pence coin and thicker then a typical ear ring -are very visible as bumps hanging below each nipple.

We wander, without any real sense of direction or purpose, around Cardiffs shop and people filled streets. Hand in hand, the bags we steadily accrue shared out between us.

In the comic shop- because I've got a geeky streak that occasionally needs satisfying -Deborah stands beside me as I flick through the non Marvel/DC shelves, her hand down inside my jeans, long nails tracing up and down my left butt cheek. Her head rests on my shoulder, her breasts press against my right arm.

Later, in a dimly lit music shop, I return the favour. Standing behind Deborah whilst she hunts the racks of old rock albums I reach around, hugging her flat belly with my left hand, whilst my right burrows down inside her leggings, my equally long nails stroking at the soft skin directly above Deborah's pussy, making her sigh and press her butt into me.

We, at severe risk it feels like of fucking right in the middle of one shop or another, find a Nandos. Ordering a not too spicy chicken and plate of chips to share.

"I thought," sitting across from each other in the booth, my right arm and her left laid across the table, running nails down each others forearms, "that you'd tie me up."
"Don't you mean hoped?"
"Well." I look thoughtful, Deborah grins, I nod. "Yeah."
"I will."
"When we get back to my place?"
"In about a week." Shaking her head.

Then laughing as I pout. Deborah tuts, leans forwards, and casually flicks one of my nipples.

And.

"Fuuuuuuuucccck." Hissed out of me as pain explodes across my breast. "You. Ouch."
"Give it a week B." Deborah laughs, leaning in a second time, kissing me. "Let them heal. Then we'll have fun."

On the whole it's probably a good thing that I work, at the nursery, five out of the next seven days. One of the guys, Bob, has gone long term sick after breaking his leg falling off a ladder at home, so there's extra work that needs covering.

And, given I'm in an enforced time out, the work keeps me busy.

Not that we don't still talk. There's a sometimes trickle sometimes flood of messages forever zipping back and forth between Deborah and me. Mostly flirt filled with the occasional more normal 'how was your day' enquiry.

She asks for. Demands. Daily updates on the state of my nipples. Photos.

Twice I'm told to ballgag myself for these. And once, clearly feeling aroused and impatient, I receive the message:

'Strip, tie a crotch rope and strap your biggest ballgag in. Cuff your wrists. Skype me.'

One evening. I comply, expecting something like phone sex but with video. But, instead, Deborah the tease- fully clothed, bitch -spends an hour talking about life and work and tattoo's. Clearly having fun she refuses to allow me to ungag, instead insisting I type all my responses.

A week of waiting, something Deborah seems good at making me do.

And then, coming back up my road in the early afternoon having just done a ten K run, I find her black Cooper S parked next to my gate, Deborah leaning against the passenger side door.

Waiting.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Deborah certainly knows how to play the game well, teasing poor Brooke until she cannot take it anymore.

Of course the denial makes the end result even sweeter... And of course, reminds Plymouth of exactly who is in charge...

A bit excessive to get a body modification off just a few words, but again, that is the trajectory Plymouth is headed down... The question being when will she finally hit the ground? One cannot fly on forever...
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Then laughing as I pout. Deborah tuts, leans forwards, and casually flicks one of my nipples.

And.

"Fuuuuuuuucccck." Hissed out of me as pain explodes across my breast. "You. Ouch."
Well described... Exhilaratingly painful.

Great chapter as usual...
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BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago A bit excessive to get a body modification off just a few words, but again, that is the trajectory Plymouth is headed down... The question being when will she finally hit the ground? One cannot fly on forever
It is soon/quick for piercings, for that level. But I'm trying not to drag the story out, which means things happening relatively fast.

I'd rather go shorter and more focused more fun then spend several chapters working Brooke and Deborah's dynamic up to this point.

And.

Yes.

Maybe.

Of course, since the tale is mine I already know, and I shan't spoil.

But.

The potential is there for a fall, just as the reverse and many other possibilities exist too.

All will become clear in the end of course.
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016.

"Get in." Swinging the passenger door open as I come to a stop in front of her, the serious take charge look on Deborah's face, combined with her choice of outfit. Her words, abrupt, ordering me.

My heart, the sudden change feels as though someone just stamped on my gas pedal.

I climb in. Very aware of my state: a sweaty mess, hair tied loosely back and matted, mud splatters on both legs. Aware too of how underdressed I am: just a grey sweat stained Adidas sports bra and khaki green small running shorts, black Adidas on my feet and a black half length pull on hoodie with the sleeves cut off hanging off my chest, the shortness of it leaving my stomach exposed.

Deborah has an actual corset on, a tightly laced- at the back -black underbust one, from the top and bottom of which her white long sleeved shirt spills. A shirt open at the top, forced wide by Deborah's E cups, the rolled sleeves adding to her take charge demeanour.

Beneath the shirt red tartan trousers hug her legs all the way down to chunky black and silver goth boots.

"Phone." Sliding into the drivers seat, mirrored aviator shades turned to face me.

"Keys."

Having unstrapped my phone- held fast to my upper left arm in a black velcro sheath -and placed it, plus my ear buds, in Deborah's waiting hand, I lift the green lanyard holding my house key from around my neck.

"Good." Putting my personal things in her door pocket, clipping her seat belt on- I do the same -and firing up the engine, Deborah drops the Cooper S into gear.

And away we go.

Across the bridge into England, and I ponder why I'm not tied up, or gagged, or both? I decide not to mention these observations though. Deborah, I have to assume, has come for me with a plan. I want to see it, her plan.

Leaving the motorway, and I suddenly recall I'm due to meet Elwood today. He's supposed to be coming over to film another shoot. In, I check Deborah's clock display on the centre console, about three hours.

Oops.

"Listen. B." We've pulled up outside a house, an end terrace in a row of seven small- I'd guess two bedroom -brick built old looking properties. No driveway, and no front gardens, but the street we're on has that quiet feel to it, and despite looking old every house I can see looks well cared for.

It's, on first impressions, a nice part of whatever town this is.

"Debs?" Turning to face her.

"I tried." A quick smile chases across her face. "The other week. I tried to tell you I can, do, get carried away. I tried very hard." She smiles again, and I can't help smiling back. "To warn you that I will get carried away." Deborah jabs a finger towards me. "With you."

"But." Deborah tuts, shakes her head. "You didn't care."
"I don't care."
"Right. Well. Listen." Turning her head to eye up the. Her? House. "Tomorrow morning I'll take you home. And. Tomorrow morning you can tell me if you still want to play."
"Oooh kay?" Confused, frowning. Deborah sees this and laughs.

"You surrendered." Nodding, looking back at me now. "So. I'm going to do whatever I want. With you. Until tomorrow. Then." A shrug.

But I get it. Tomorrow I get a final chance to leave. And. If I don't.

A shiver, excitement and fear and nerves, runs the length of me, images, fantasies, of what might happen to me after tomorrow running a fast cascade montage through my head:

Sleeping, every night, tied and strapped into one of those bondage sacks I've seen online. Or locked into a cage.

Accompanying a latex clad Domme Deborah to fetish meets as her bound and gagged slave, lead around like the owned thing I am.

Deborah's name, anything she desires, tattooed on me. Her mark on my skin forever.

All that and more, an overload of surrendered just desserts, what I'll get, maybe, with Deborah in charge.

I nod. Deborah smiles, and together we climb out of her car, stepping into what is indeed Deborah's house.

"Clothes." Kicking off her boots, Deborah glances up at me, nods towards a small whicker basket beside the door. "And shoes, in there."

I ran hard today, pushing myself, so my clothes, especially my thong and sports bra, are quite pungent. My skin, my crotch and armpits, my breasts, my butt crack, feels sticky with dried sweat. Whilst my legs are still splattered with dried mud from the puddles I've run through.

"Food in the cupboards." Giving my lips a quick kiss. "Fridge. Pots and pans to the left." A waved hand towards the back of the house. "Cook something. I'll be down in a half hour."

"And." I stop, turn, finding Deborah coming back to me from the two steps she'd just climbed, ballgag in hand. "No talking."

With a grin she jams the red ball into my open mouth, leaning in to buckle the black leather straps tightly behind my head.

"Good." Stepping back, nodding. "Off you go now."

Some cookers, they shouldn't be but they are, in my experience some are hotter then others.

So I keep it simple. Boiling pasta, frying mince in a pan, adding sauce amd seasoning. I cook a garlic bread in the oven, a simple thing.

And the whole time, like a buzzing in my head I'm aware of my nakedness in a strange place.

Deborah, reappearing right on cue, removes my gag before we sit down on opposite sides of a small round table to eat. There are four wooden chairs arranged at the major compass points. I've served us up half the food each, a reasonable portion, leaving the bread sliced and placed on a wooden board at the tables centre.

Smelling fresh and clean like a summers day- her freshly washed appearance only highlighting my general mess -Deborah's dressed only in a baggy black tee that falls halfway down her thighs, the word 'Legend' in white printed across her chest.

Whilst we eat I look around, having not had the chance to do so whilst I'd been busy cooking.

The downstairs is all one large open space, the kitchen and table at the back on tiles, everything else including the front door is carpeted. The whole area forward of where I'm sat looks like a split between a bondage lovers wet dream and a sensible normal living room.

A large flatscreen sits atop a black glass and dark wood stand, a Sky box and Nintendo on a shelf underneath. Next to this a metal pole runs from floor to ceiling, very obviously bolted into place top and bottom.

Opposite this, taking up most of one wall sits a large faded orange four seater fabric sofa, half of which is strewn with mostly uncoiled lengths of rope. Interestingly? Some of these ropes still have knots in, as though from recent use.

Beside the sofa a four plug extension lead runs from a wall socket, and from this four separate leads emerge, each one connected to a different type of vibrator.

Halfway between the sofa and tv stand is a low table that looks more like a box. Or a coffin but with straight flat sides. The box is person shaped, narrow and long, and I can clearly see both hinges and a padlock clasp on the top, which must be the door.

Suffice to say all these possibilities have me far too distracted to wonder at those knotted ropes. I have, as my mind wanders over all the fun things I can see, forgotten about my sweat stained messy state too.

"Come here." Having just washed up, wiped everything down, I turn, finding her over by the sofa, rope in hand, several more lengths within easy reach, Deborah points at the floor beside her.

Swallowing down the butterflies that have just raced up out of my belly, because her tone of voice had been all command and business, I do as I'm told.

"Make it." Trailing the two rope ends, held together since she's doubled the length, across my breasts. "Tight." Smiling as I shiver. "Make me." Slapping the rope against my nipple, making me gasp. "Yours." Taking hold of my chin, Deborah tilts my face up so our gazes lock. "Right?"
"Yes." Breathed out like a whisper. "Bind me to you. Please."

She does.

Everything is yanked. Done with force. Deborah's ropework is never polite, it isn't done with care and consideration for the aftereffects on my skin. She ties me up by way, it always feels, of attacking me. Pushing. Pulling. Jerking my limbs and body around.

She is not delicate. She takes, she owns.

And I love it.

Wrists and elbows, yanked together behind me, turning my arms into a single column, thrusting my F cups out, rings dangling off my erect nipples.

Which, my breasts, don't get tied. Instead the next rope goes on my crotch. Deborah pulls it tight enough around my waist to shrink me to a size six, pulling so tight the doubled length all but vanishes inside my pussy, brushing at my clit with every breath I take.

Pushed down onto the sofa, manhandled onto my belly up one end, facing the empty seat I'll assume is for Deborah to sit on once she's done, my legs are bound.

Each one tied separately, ankle to upper thigh so my legs are bent double.

"There." Flopping down into that empty spot, remote in hand. "Movie time."
"What are we watching?" Risking, because I'm not gagged, so logically I am allowed to talk.

"Um." Flicking through pages, different genres. "Something scary."
"My Little Pony?"
"A horror." Tutting at me. "B."
"Ben and Holly?"
"Ben and...?" Giving me a quizzical look. I manage to keep a straight face, manage not to laugh as Deborah types the names into the Sky search bar.

"Oh." Shaking her head whilst I giggle, on the flatscreen the show is revealed as very obviously for small kids, all Elves and Fairies. A cartoon I stumbled across one drunk night then spent an hour laughing at.

But. Silly Brooke. Giggling. Playing. Forgetting all about Deborah's promise. Her. Warning.

Whatever she wants. And. Almost certainly. To get carried away whilst doing it.

"Uuhhh." I grunt as the newly added rope: two removed and five added, forces my chest and head up off the sofa cushion, arching my back as Deborah, behind me, pulls. And pulls.

My legs are bound together now, ankles and knees, thighs. Four ropes squeeze my legs tight, whilst that fifth, now being knotted and secured, holding me into this bent uncomfortable pose, completes my new hogtie.

Except it doesn't.

Deborah, picking up another rope, sets about wrapping and knotting it into my hair, making a sort of ponytail. Which she then uses to forcibly keep my head up, connecting the hair rope to my ankles, preventing my head from falling forwards onto the cushions.

"Now." Sitting back down, remote back in hand. Deborah gives me a look, eyebrow raised. "Where was I?"

An obvious challenge. My playfulness has just earned me a tighter, stricter, tie.

And if I do it again. What then?

I lick my lips, squirming in the very tight ropes binding my naked body, feeling my clit throb as the crotch rope continously rubs at my pussy. My nipples tingling as the rings brush at the sofa each time I rock forwards.

Deborah shifts, coming up and around to sit sideways, body leaning back into the corner, one leg bent, leaning against the sofa back, the other trailing, foot on the floor. Leaning forwards she grabs hold of my nipple rings.

Tugs gently but firmly.

Pulling.

Coaxing.

Guiding.

Making me wriggle and squirm across the sofa towards her. My nipples singing with each jerk, my arousal climbing through the clouds as my eyes find Deborah's, finding a smirk on her black lips. Evidence of her pleasure at using me.

My face winds up in her crotch, Deborah hitching her tee up, revealing her nakedness. I can, by rolling onto my side, just about rest my head on her upper thigh. I can just about still see the flatscreen whilst my lips are pressed against Deborah's pussy.

Breathing in the clean yet aroused scent of her.

We're about an hour into the movie- some old horror I've never seen about a bunch of college girls lost in a creepy maze -when my phone rings.

I'm licking, which I've been on and off doing since Deborah pressed play, planting soft kisses up her inner thigh, across her pussy lips. Exploring deeper with my tongue.

But the sound of my phone makes me look up, bucking against the ropes I forget- in that must answer my phone instant -are there.

"What? Um. Who?" Straining at the ropes, trying to stretch, to work feeling back into limbs long dead. My body just a mass of pleasurable pain and aches.

"Is it fommmmffpppffmmmm." From, well it was likely on the floor beside her, Deborah has produced a ballgag, which she's now strapping tightly behind my head.

"Ffmfmpfpffffmmm."
"No." Shaking her head, tone stern in answer to my muffled moaning. Deborah leans and reaches behind her, and my phone appears in her hand.

Which she, as I look on, hogtied and gagged between her legs, answers.

"Yes?"

Shaking her head. "No. I'm not. Who?" Bringing my phone away from her ear, glancing at the screen before moving it back. "Elwood is it?"
"Mmfffffffnnnnnpppffff nngggggfffpppmmmmm." I loudly protest around the gag, bouncing my trussed body up and down.

Forgetting.

Forgetting my place.

"Huh?" Reaching out to grab at a nipple ring. Twisting and pulling, making me hiss at the sudden pain.

"No." Shaking her head, still gripping my ring tightly, still stretching my right breast and nipple painfully towards her. "She's." Flash of a smile, eyes darting down at me. "Busy."
"Mmmffggggmmmmmmmmm." Softer. "Mmfmfm mmmmm mmfffnnngmmm." Looking up into Deborah's eyes. "Fffnnmmmmffmm."

"She was?" Looking thoughtful, glancing up at the flatscreen, the movie still playing on. "Well." Letting go my nipple ring. I sag back, sighing. "She'll be home in the morning. Around." A shrug, glancing down at me. "Ten."

Deborah blows me a kiss. I moan, quietly, squirming forwards to nuzzle her pussy with my ballgag. Trying to be a good girl.

"Where do you want me to leave her?"

"Oh. You know." Shifting downwards, thrusting her crotch into my face, jamming the red ball of my gag into her pussy. Deborah, our gazes locked me staring up at her from my helpless prone position, begins to grind her crotch against my face whilst reaching inside a free hand up inside her tee.

"Maybe." Sighing in time with my moan. "I could tie her to the front gate. Or." A brief pause. "Round the back so the neighbours can't see. Maybe. Hogtied at the back door?"

Showing surprising strength Deborah manoeuvres us both, scooting down, pulling and yanking me up by the armpits and elbow ropes. We wind up with her laid on her back, hogtied and ballgagged me laid atop her, belly to belly whilst my hair rope holds my head up, forcing me to gaze down at her smile.

"What do you think?" Speaking into the phone but looking at me, free hand idly flicking my nipple ring.

"Mmmffffffff mmmmm." I nod. Yes. Fuck yes. Please. Anything you want.

"Yeah." Deborah rolls her eyes. "Sure. Joking. Ha. Anyway. Elwood." Confirming my suspicions. "She'll be home tomorrow."

"Now then." Tossing the phone over me, onto the floor in front of the sofa, Deborah grins. "Where were we."
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Post by Switchgirl »

Another great chapter. Love the idea of Plymouth being kept tied all night, every night…except I suspect we have another twist on the horizon….

Love your style of writing - it amplifies Plymouth’s indecision and impaired judgement (when horny)!
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Post by RopeBunny »

Switchgirl wrote: 1 year ago Love the idea of Plymouth being kept tied all night, every night…except I suspect we have another twist on the horizon….
Always room/time for another twist :D

Unless there isn't....

Or maybe there is....

:lol:

Sorry. Thanks for commenting.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey, yet another great chapter.

Where Plymouth learns that brattiness does not pay (or maybe does, depending on how you look at it?). And Deborah certainly puts the new rings though their paces...

Wonder if Elwood will end up having to be her knight in shining armor, at the rate she is going. Or at least he might need to make another attempt to talk some sense into her, because at this point, play is interfering with work.
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago She is not delicate. She takes, she owns.
Sums up the chapter pretty well... Great line.
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Post by Caesar73 »

Quite intriguing chapter. Intense. You chapter Beverly´s emotions to well. Your style reflects that. Fascinating
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Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago She is not delicate. She takes, she owns.
Sums up the chapter pretty well... Great line.
You chose a good line there :D
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Post by RopeBunny »

017.

My body tenses, my head flooding with sudden thoughts of punishment, of reprisals for my disobedience: my loud moans, my attempted gagged insistence that Deborah hand over my phone.

My nipples, the right already sore from Deborah's harsh twisting moments ago, tingle. Feeling all at once five times more sensitive, heightened by the threat of torture.

Would she?

Will she?

My breathing quickens, anticipation making my skin tingle. And, I'm not afraid. I'm not upset, nor wishing she wouldn't. Strangely I discover a want, almost a need, for this potential new avenue of Deborah's asserted ownership of me.

Part of me wants her to produce a whip, a riding crop.

Things I, after a nasty experience some years ago, vowed never to allow near me again.

But. It would appear times change. It would appear my love of being Deborah's little slut goes deeper still.

Beside us the movie plays on, forgotten. Deborah only has eyes for me, her gaze pinning mine as though she could rope it too, binding it to her as she has the rest of me.

Does she know I'm putty in her hands?

Does she realise I'm now so into this that another girl- Deborah's secret hidden partner who doesn't of course exist but still -could walk in on us, and I wouldn't mind what became of me:

Locked in the box as they went upstairs to have noisy sex.

Given away to the non existent other, to be used by her.

The other, the true Domme, taking both Deborah and me. Taking us. And.

And.

With a start I realise I'm alone, Deborah having removed herself from beneath me, got up, walked away, whilst I'd been lost to daydreams.

Had a phone rung?

I can. I think? Hear muffled talking from, possibly, upstairs.

"Fffffggggppmmmm." I quietly moan, stretching my aching limbs, the taste of Deborah still fresh on my ballgagged lips.

The movie ends, and in its place ads, the same half dozen, begin to play in a loop.

A form of torture in itself, because by the time Deborah comes downstairs I could, easily, narrate all six perfectly I've watched them so many times.

She's naked save for a returning friend, the large, thick, black strap on cock bouncing and bobbing as Deborah advances towards me.

I'm untied, completely: no ropes, no gag. And by the time I've worked my way from laying to sitting there's a glass of water before me on the box come table, and Deborah's sat beside me, flicking through channels.

Waiting.

I drink. Not rushing, not dawdling. Very aware of Deborah, leaning back, legs spread wide open in mimic of a guy, her cock hanging. Huge. Black. Right there like a threat and promise of my immediate future.

"Go upstairs." Not even looking at me. Stern voice breaking the silence as I place my empty glass down. "Door on the right. Use what's on the bed."
"Yes." Voice, my voice, sounds small. Cowed.

Submissive.

"I'll be up to fuck you soon." Deborah grins, still watching the flatscreen not me.

I all but float upstairs on a wave of that promised fucking.

There are only three doors upstairs: a bathroom on the left, a closed door ahead, and Deborah's room to the right, door stood ajar.

And, just like the main room downstairs, inside its a mixture of normal and bondage.

A kingsize metal bed, the frame black, sits against the far wall. Head and footboard are both a study in twisting metal, like something crazy or alive.

Beside the bed, in place of a side table, squats a small cage. Thick and sturdy bars of black metal, like the bed. The cage is Alsatian size, a girl. Me. Could not lay down stretched out, nor could I rise up off a four limbed lower legs flat on the ground crouch. The cage door sits open, a thick padlock popped open and hanging. Ready.

Behind the door, bolted to the wall opposite the bed and therefore within easy sight of someone- Deborah -laid down in comfort, is the dark polished wooden shape of a St Andrews Cross.

Easy enough to imagine myself locked to the X beams, for some reason my mind has me in my Three Kings jacket and jeans, freshly arrived. Locked in place, nothing more then eye candy for Deborah.

I, with an effort, return my attention to the bed.

Discovering cuffs- metal, police issue looking things -already attached to each corner post, and a mouth pinning spider gag resting on the pillow.

I strap the gag on, tasting the shiny metal ring now wedged in my mouth, the roundness of it forcing my jaws wide apart. Easy access for Deborah's cock.

Each of the cuffs have a short chain, and Deborah's bed is a king. So. After five minutes work I'm finally locked up, having had to stretch to do each ankle, whilst each wrist was a one handed wriggle it in whilst flipping the cuff to close it then press the cuff against the mattress to tighten it job.

But. It's done. I'm secure. Locked away, each limb stretching and reaching for a corner, the size of Deborah's bed meaning I am properly pulled in four directions at once.

Locked up. Helpless. I wait.

And.

Wait.

And.

I'm laid hogtied, naked from the waist up, skinny jeans hugging my butt and legs, body wrapped in rope.

Unaware I've fallen asleep, and am therefore no longer seeing what's real.

The room I'm in, the bed I'm laid on, has the manufactured 'everything repeated' look of being one of many inside a hotel. Indeed I can, as I struggle, clearly see a phone sat atop the desk across the room.

I've been abandoned. Again.

Yet even as I think this, the door opens, and in walks Deborah.

Except.

She's naked save for three items: knee high black chunky goth boots, which are like Deborah's signature thing, a short white apron tied around her waist, barely covering her crotch at the front and leaving her butt completely exposed, and a collar.

My collar. For some reason around Deborah's neck?

She's pushing one of those large carts that hotel workers collect the dirty sheets in, just a large hopper on four wheels. Like a bin. And, bizarrely, there's a long chain, a padlock, locking her collar to the cart.

"Check out time B."
"Mmmfffpppmmmm." Moaning through my gag as Deborah, rather effortlessly it seems, hoists me up off the bed, carrying and dumping my hogtied body in the hopper.

"Mmfffffff fffggggmmmggggg." Squirming and rolling around inside the canvas bin, unable to see out, but I know we're moving.

Moving where?

Into another room. Stopping. And without warning Emiko lands half beside half ontop of me, her own skinny flat chested Asian body is hogtied too, a similar ballgag to mine strapped in her pretty mouth.

Unlike me though Emiko is naked.

As is Shauna, who joins us what feels like moments later. The white ropes stand out against Shauna's dark skin, her enhanced breasts, smaller then my cannons, are even so topped by nipples so erect they feel sharp.

The three of us squirm and thrash together, slithering, slipping, our bodies being rolled all around as Deborah, unseen but surely it's still her, pushes us onwards.

We moan. And pant. I feel a tongue. Someone's? Dancing in and out of my pussy, making me sigh. Shauna rolls, is thrown, atop me, her large strap on sliding into my mouth as the bouncing cart pushes me into her even as she rolls into me.

The cock, thick, ribbed, large enough to attack the back of my throat, makes me cough and gag.

And.

I'm awake as the realisation of the dream hits. Eyes flying open with the knowledge that. It isn't Shauna's cock.

"Hi sleepy." Deborah, towering over my prone locked up body. Kneeling, straddling my breasts, her body impossibly tall from this angle, her E cups like mountain peaks, above which her head looks down. Grinning.

And her cock filling my forced open mouth as she holds my head up by the hair, pinning me on her shaft.

Letting go with one hand, shifting the other so she has a good grip of the hair atop my head, Deborah picks something I can't see up.

She, still gazing down at me, still smiling, begins to face fuck me with her strap on. She sits still, using her iron grip on my hair to control the speed with which I'm forced to suck her fake cock. Pulling me into it, pushing me back off.

On. Off. On. Off.

Which. Being force fed Deborah's fake cock, helpless and powerless. It's humiliating. Degrading. It's.

Fuck me It's a huge turn on.

She's using me. Doing as she pleases, treating me like a thing, not seeming to care about my feelings or wants or needs.

Taking.

Making me moan even whilst I'm gagging. Panting each time she ups the tempo, the thickness of her cock making it hard to breathe.

A sudden buzzing sound, and moments later my clit is attacked by a vibrator, pressed tightly in place, making me jump.

"Cum for me." Still pounding away, beginning to thrust with her crotch too, getting carried along in the moment. Deborah's words are almost barked out.

Like commands.

As she fucks me, as she works me over.

"Do you like being fucked. Slut."
"Fffgggggg ppppgggffffff." Barely able to speak as Deborah's cock pounds in and out.

"You're my bitch. Say it."
"Gggggmmfffffff."
"Mine." Pound. "Mine." Pound.

"Cum for me."
"Fffggmmmpppp."
"Now. Bitch."
"Gggfffffmmm mmffffggggmm."
"Mine. You. Are. Mine. Now."
"Fffggmmmmgggg."
"Cum. You fucking bitch cum for me."

"Cum." Pound.

"For." Pound.

"Me."

I explode. That's what it feels like anyway. My whole body spasms, rattling the cuffs as I scream into the large cock still pounding and thrusting in then out, in then out.

Some time passes. Minutes, floating, drained, too exhausted to feel, to notice or care.

When I resurface, swimming back into myself, finding aches, finding a dull pleasurable throb in my tender pussy, finding nipples still rock hard from arousal.

I find darkness all around. A quiet bedroom, the shadowed form of Deborah, asleep, duvet half thrown off to reveal the pale slash of skin down one side.

And me. I'm locked in the bedside cage. No longer cuffed. No longer gagged. But still naked. And now it appears Deborah has put me to bed in the way she desired.

Awake. I. Quietly, not wishing to wake Deborah, explore my new, quite small, surroundings.

The cage is locked, my questing fingers find the heavy silver padlock, now bolted closed on the clasp.

And my earlier assessment proves true: I'm unable to rise beyond a hands and knees lower legs flat crouch, nor can I stretch my legs out straight whilst laying down.

There's no pillow, no blanket. This is not a place meant for comfort.

I lay down, curling myself up, staring out at the bed. At Deborah.

And think.

I am. Not. I come to realise. Upset to be here, locked away naked with no blanket for the night. In fact this new level, Deborah making full use of her ownership to literally pack me away like a thing she no longer has a use for, it feels amazing.

On so many levels its doubtless wrong to be so aroused over being discarded. But I am. Aroused. Horny. This, being locked away, feeds my need and desire to be owned. To have no say.

Here, in this cage, I have no say.

What if she does this every night?

Well. Then prehaps it's a challenge. Maybe I have to earn the right to share Deborah's bed. Maybe, in order to avoid the cage, I have to be.

"A good girl." I whisper, licking my lips, reaching up to flick a nipple ring as I stare at Deborah.

Or. And my pussy tingles at the thought, I could be bad on purpose.

Eying up the wall mounted cross, remembering the lockable coffin downstairs, and what else might there be here?

How much worse could she make things for me?

That could be a game too. Testing the limits. Pushing. Because I know Deborah will push back.

If this is Deborah getting carried away. Doing with me as she sees fit. Then I say bring it on.

I say. "More please."

Whispered into the darkness, trying to settle now, trying to sleep.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Well, she is completely lost in the experience. Daydreams, actual dreams, every thought is inundated by her desire to submit. And of course, in such a state, everything just feeds into itself in a self reinforcing loop. Everything becomes amazing, good, wonderful, makes one fall even deeper into it...

I will not repeat some variation of what I have said many times before about the possible end results.

But I will say this: I am concerned that while Deborah definitely knows how to get Plymouth to where she wants to go, I just do not think (and based on what Deborah herself said before, she does not seem to think so either), Deborah knows how to properly and safely guide her back out into reality. Which can obviously lead to problems.

But to be clear, that is not meant as a criticism. Indeed there would be no story if there was no tension and nothing 'happened'.

On a slightly more light-hearted note; seems Deborah did indeed find some words to call Plymouth :P.

Great chapter, as usual.
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Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago
On a slightly more light-hearted note; seems Deborah did indeed find some words to call Plymouth :P.
She (Deborah) said she likely would, in the heat of the moment :lol:
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Post by RopeBunny »

018.

"Here," backing up against my front door, voice playful, "wasn't it?"
"Around the back I believe." Deborah, having followed me through my gate, up the drive, steps closer.

"Something." Taking hold of my sleeveless hoodie, the sports bra beneath. Yesterday's clothes, smelly from the run Deborah showed up to kidnap me at the end of.

But I had nothing else to wear this morning, after waking up, after being let out of the cage I'd spent the night in.

One hand on each side, Deborah pulls, upwards, removing my clothes. And me, helpful, lifting my arms so everything I was wearing above the waist just slips right off.

My F cups, freed from the overly tight confines of the spandex bra, bounce, nipple rings right there, out in front like an invitation. Deborah grins, tossing my clothes away. Somewhere.

Neither of us cares where.

"I think," Stood very close to me, one hand on my breast, nipple trapped between her splayed fingers, "it had something to do with the neighbours not seeing you all." Bringing her face closer, breathing into my mouth. "Bound and gagged."

I've never seen Deborah dressed so casually: a black pull on hoodie, grey drawstring joggers, both baggy and pulled on over nothing save a black thong.

She's even, shock and horror, wearing trainers.

"Just to drive you home." She'd commented, shrugging, binding her ash coloured hair into a loose tail.

Deborah's words, her quiet but forceful tone, the closeness of her body to mine all but pinning me to the door even without her hand on my F cup.

I feel my breath catch, the trapped nipple tingling.

She'd been, I could see, tell, nervous this morning. Unlocking the cage. Barely speaking to me throughout breakfast and the drive to mine. Yesterday Deborah had said she'd do with me as she pleased, and that after, today, it would be my choice whether to walk away.

From her.

And she hasn't asked. We've not spoken about it.

But I know what I want. I know how I felt last night. Locked away at her choosing. I felt content, happy. For a long time my secret desire- one of them -has been to be owned. For someone to do whatever they wish with me, to me.

I've craved having no say over things. I've daydreamed about being tied up, used, whenever and however someone else desires.

And now. That's what Deborah does.

Maybe. I can show her?

"Will you." Leaning in to kiss her, tentative, a small thing, on the lips. "Wait. A moment."
"Okay." Deborah nods, so I pull the lanyard, to which my house key is attached, over my head. Unlock my front door, step inside.

Re-emerging moments later to hand my find to Deborah.

"And." An amused smile on her face, tossing the full roll of thick black tape into the air, catching it one handed. "This is for?"

In answer. No words. My front door has a small roof built out from it, a square, tilting on each side up to the middle, supported out in front by two wooden pillars a couple of metres apart. Walking over to one I turn around to face her, back pressed against the wood, hand clasping hand behind the pillar, legs together.

Still topless, dressed only in my Adidas and small green running shorts.

On the phone, on my phone, yesterday, to Elwood. Deborah had offered to leave me tied up waiting for him.

And. I don't think he'd been amused. But, from the way she'd looked at me as she made the offer. She'd wanted to.

So.

"The neighbours will see." Stepping around behind me, a grin like victory on her face. "Everyone will see you."
"Yes." In truth my house is a fair ways back, so, nobody will be able to see much. But. "I." Feeling Deborah pulling the tape around my wrists, jerking my limbs as she wraps it tight. "Don't care."

"Got a nasty habit of surrendering." Wrists done, now she's wrapping tape to secure them to the pillar, wrapping my waist too.

"Only to you."
"Only to me." Wrapping my ankles, hunkered down in front of me, securing them to the pillar.

Deborah stands back up, roll of tape left behind on the floor. She's just out of her own grabbing range, hands on hips, still smiling as her eyes roam my body up then down.

"Honestly." Tutting. "Now how am I supposed to go when you look this damn cute?"
"Then stay." Wiggling my F cups at her.

"Ah." Wagging a finger at me. "But you have an appointment today. With Elwood."
"Fuck him." Shrugging, feeling a brief pang, because I like Elwood, but.

"I'm yours. Not his."

"Yes." Stepping closer, nodding. "It would seem you are."

I am. Very. Close to an orgasm. When someone coughs, politely but loudly, from off to one side. We've been kissing for some time, a long time it feels like. Kissing while Deborah runs hands all over my breasts, flicking and teasing my pierced nipples. Kissing as she walks one hand down into my shorts, finding my clit and pussy already damp with want and lust. Kissing as Deborah works me over.

"Elwood." Nodding, Deborah steps back, removing her hand from my shorts, sucking my juices off her fingers.

Looking me in the eyes as she does.

"Hi."
"Hi." Nodding back at Deborah. Turning my head I see him, stood about a half dozen metres away, wearing blue jeans and a black Batman tee, a backpack over one shoulder and beyond, parked next to Deborah's Cooper S, I spot Elwoods car.

"I'll come back." Elwood shrugs, gaze skating on then off me. "Give me a call Brooke. Kay?"
"No no." Grinning, Deborah shakes her head. "I was just leaving. Work and stuff."

Stepping back in close, putting her mouth against my ear, my mouth against hers. Deborah whispers.

"Remember where I live?"
"Yes." I whisper back, adding a small nod. "I remember."
"Tonight." Flicking her tongue out, licking my ear, making me shiver. "Your bed, or my cage. If you want me. Come to me."
"Yes." Feeling my whole body start to tingle in response to her words, thoughts of going to her, of being locked away.

With a brief kiss on my lips Deborah leaves, giving Elwood a salute as she passes. Leaving me topless, taped to the pillar.

"That who I talked to yesterday," Stepping closer, but watching Deborah walk away, "on your phone?"
"Yes."
"Hmmm." Elwood nods. I wait for. Something more. Chastisement, for letting myself be tied up in what is basically public. Another warning maybe, something about staying safe when it's far too late for that.

Elwood looks thoughtful, facing me but I feel he's looking through me, beyond me, staring at things inside his own head as I hear the sound of Deborah's car leaving.

I wait.

"Maybe." A shrug, offering me a half smile. "Not the best idea to be tied up half naked out where anyone can see."
"Maybe." I shrug.

"I'll." Shaking his head, pointing at my front door. "Go and find some scissors."
"Okay." I nod.

"No rush." Calling out as Elwood steps through my door. He stops, turning to face me. I grin. He tuts, shows me another half smile, carries on inside.

"Well. She seems to be a fun person to have around."
"Morning Ruth." Turning my head, focusing on things other then the horizon, pulling myself, my head, away from that cage beside Deborah's bed.

She's already halfway up the driveway, wearing pink drawstring joggers and a fairly tight across the belly and chest white tee with no bra, her D cups bouncing with each step, nipples poking very obviously at the fabric.

"Hey Brooke." Walking a lap around me. "Got to ask, how come you let some girl tie you up like this?"
"Why not?" Feeling quite playful. Not to mention I've got a fair amount of unreleased sexual frustration bubbling around inside me.

Because Elwood interrupted Deborah moments before she could bring me to climax.

"Maybe I didn't let her." Shrugging as Ruth appears around the front, her lap of me done. "Maybe she did this by force."
"Yeah." Smiling back at me, her own tone matching mine. "Overpowered you did she?"
"Tied me up." I shake my chest at Ruth, happy to see her breath catch as my F cups bounce and wobble. "All helpless and shit."
"And." Ruth nods at my open front door. "Now that boys here to rescue you?"

"I guess."
"You don't sound happy about it." Laughing. "Don't you want to be free?"
"Guess I just hoped." Giving my chest another shake, baiting the hook, seeing if she'll bite. Just for fun. "That whoever came along might have some fun with me instead."

"Oh." Watching as Ruth's face chases through surprise into happy into confusion into licking her lips, eyes very obviously tracking down to my breasts.

We did a shoot, not too long ago. I tied Ruth- who until recently knew nothing about bondage -up. But before I did, I'd let her feel me up.

And now I'm offering her another go. Which, seeing her take two small steps towards me, it appears she's eager to take.

"Here I...." Elwood, showing as much sense of perfect timing as he had moments earlier, is suddenly coming through my front door, scissors in hand.

"Um?" Stopped, looking from a guilty eyed- despite she hasn't done anything -Ruth to a grinning- because of the idea I just had -me. "Brooke?"
"Elwood." I nod. "This is my neighbour Ruth. She's going to tie me up today for a shoot."

"She is?"
"I. Am?"
"Yes." I grin, and then can't help but laugh at the matching expressions of confusion they're wearing.

"But." Turning around to face me, sat on her bed. "I don't even know how to tie you up."

Elwood cut me loose, and I left him and Ruth in my kitchen whilst I dashed upstairs for a long overdue shower. Throwing on much the same outfit as Ruth, baggy blue drawstring joggers and a black vest top, I walked back to her place, so she can change for the shoot.

Leaving Elwood behind to set everything up ready.

"There isn't any kind of set method." I shrug. "There's." Pointing at the pair of faded black jeans in her right hand. "Those. Not the white pair. There's a ton of different ways, Ruth. It's all down to preference."
"Yes. But." Stuffing the white jeans back into a drawer, pulling two different tops out of another. Holding them up. "I don't even know one way."

"The purple tee." I nod. "Got a push up bra?"
"Black one or white?"
"Either."
"Black then." Pulling it out, tossing it atop her other selected clothes, plus a matching pair of lace pants.

"I'm nervous Brooke."
"Well." I grin, still feeling very playful, and I've never been shy about taking what I want. "You want to do this," looking over at Ruth, small smile on my lips, "right?"
"I." Breathing in. Out. Giving me a smile back. "Do." Nodding. "Yes."

"Tie me up." Shaking my upper body, wrists held mock helpless behind me.

"Yes." Voice going quiet.

"Have a play."
"Have a." Eyes shooting wide. "What?"
"A play." Treating Ruth to another shake. "Once I'm all tied up. You can have a play." I look down at my F cups, run a finger down over one. "With me."
"Oh."

Looking up I find Ruth blushing.

"Unless you don't want to?" I shrug, no big deal. Because, I think she wants to, and I'm horny enough, up for the fun, I want her to. But. I'm not a bitch, so, no pressure here.

"No. I." Swallowing. "I mean. Um. Shit." Ruth laughs briefly. "I want to. I just." Shaking her head, another laugh. "I don't know what to do."

"Come here."
"Huh?"
"Here." Patting the bed beside me. "Don't get changed just yet. First, come sit with me."

She does.

"Right. Well." I stand up. "We'll be shooting in my spare room. So." Pointing at the bedroom door. "When you come in I'll be here."
"On the bed?"
"On the bed." Nodding as Ruth pats the bed.

"Let's keep this simple then." I smile. "For you. Kay?"
"Please."
"Right." I point. "Go lay in the middle, face down. It's what I'll do for you. Later."

"Like this?" Raising her head to look up at me.

"Perfect." Giving her a thumbs up.

Opening Ruth's top drawer. Jackpot. I grab the belts, all types and styles, tossing them onto the bed, before climbing up to straddle Ruth, sitting on her butt, facing the back of her head.

"So. First." Grabbing a canvas belt. "Bind my wrists."
"Wrists f.... Hey." Slightly alarmed as I wrap her wrists crossed with the long belt, knotting it as tightly as I'm able.

"What are you...?"
"Wrists first." Shaking her bound arms. "Got it?"
"Oh. Um. Right." Nodding as I climb off. "Wrists." Giving hers a wriggle. "Check."
"Good. Next." Still on the bed, beside Ruth. I pick up a more normal style leather belt. "Legs. Second."

I use three belts: one for the ankles, one each above and below the knees.

"Lastly." Joining two belts together, so it isn't exactly pretty, but it'll do the job. "Wrists to my waist."
"Um." I've climbed off the bed, so can see Ruth fidgeting and wriggling in her homemade largely improvised bondage. "Legs. Second. Waist. Third." Managing to roll over, laid on her back now, Ruth nods. "Right. And. Um. Then?"
"Then." I grin. "It's playtime."

Back up onto the bed, Ruth fidgets slightly as I lay atop her, lowering myself down, feeling her body under me.

"You don't need to talk." Shaking my head. "But. You can kiss me."
"O." Very quiet. "Kay."

I kiss her. Gently, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. After a moment Ruth begins, tentatively, kissing me back.

"What else." Taking a breath, licking her lips. "Can I do?"
"Hogtie me." I shrug, laughing at Ruth's puzzled frown. "Join my ankles to my wrists. Simple yes?"
"Um." A small nod. "Yes. Um."
"Ballgag me." I think. "Feel me up of course." I grin. "Or just stand there and watch me struggle."
"All that huh?"
"All that." I nod, and roll off. Because whilst I could carry on being the teaser, it isn't my turn. "Hold on." Getting to work on the belts. "Let's get sorted before Elwood sends out a search party."

Naked, surrounded by small piles of rope, a ballgag, all arranged to be within easy grabbing range, I lay face down in the middle of the simple wooden kingsize bed. There are powerful lights shining down from above, plus two cameras: one at the side, the other pointing at my face since I'm laid the wrong way, toes up where the pillow should be.

Elwood has a third camera, so he can roam around.

Ruth walks toward the bed, into shot, looking great. The jeans hug her thick upper legs, the tee a tight fit, showing off bra enhanced breasts and her large belly.

She looks sexy.

Climbing up onto the bed, not straddling me, instead kneeling to one side, Ruth binds me in echo of how I'd bound her.

Wrists.

Ankles.

Above, and below, the knee.

Wrists tied to waist.

I'm still on my belly, feeling the tight knots digging into my skin. What I'd told Ruth as we walked back up the road to my house. Make sure it's tight, that it looks real. And, I can't see what she's done but, it feels real enough.

Leaning in Ruth kisses me on the lips, one hand on my butt. Her kisses are cautious, gentle, small things not a simple peck but not a full on attack.

It's almost pro like how, and no way this was her plan, because she isn't a pro, but I'm quite into these soft kisses, and so am not at all prepared for the ballgag she suddenly slams into my open mouth.

After which, another surprise, Ruth hogties me.

Quite well too.

She manages to pull the rope joining ankles to wrists quite tight, not enough so that my back arches, but nor is is loose. I don't have all the freedom, I am, somewhat restricted now.

She climbs off the bed, stands looking down on me, hands crossed below her large D cups.

And.

"Struggle for me." Almost, being new to all this, it almost comes out as a question, as a request.

Damn cute thing to say either way.

Quite turned on, it isn't the casual assertive dominance of Deborah, but it's something, I do as I've been told. Spending ten minutes struggling and moaning, bouncing and wriggling from my belly onto my side, onto my back. I thrust my F cups and pussy at Ruth, because I can see from the angles that Elwood will capture my doing so, and of course I thrust them at him too.

Ruth comes to join me. She lays down, belly to belly but not touching, and spends prehaps ten minutes mostly feeling up my breasts.

Squeezing. Licking. Tracing her fingers across them.

She doesn't touch my pussy. I think, yes, Ruth likes, enjoys, playing with me, but on the whole my gut says she prefers guys.

Which is fine. Because this is all just fun.

Afterwards we, the three of us, have a barbecue in Ruth's back garden, a relaxed thing with lots of food that I barely touch, which luckily Ruth and Elwood eat my portion between them.

In the end I leave them to it, saying goodbye once it's dark.

Elwood frowns briefly, and I wait, but no comment is passed.

"You're here."
"Yes." Stepping inside at close to midnight, Deborah answering her door in nothing but a black silk belted bathrobe.

She holds out her hand, into which I place my phone, house key, motorbike key.

She points to the whicker basket beside the door. I strip off, placing all my clothes folded inside.

Follow her upstairs. Into her room.

The cage door. Open. Waiting.

Without a kiss, not offered nor asked for, I crawl inside.

Turning in time to see the door pushed closed, the lock bolted. I watch Deborah turn off the bedroom light, seeing the silhouette shadow of her casting off the robe, climbing into bed.

Falling asleep.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey, great chapter as usual.

Well, Plymouth seems insatiable. One would think after the previous day/night she might be content for at least a day, or perhaps have some regrets or second thoughts (certainly even Deborah had some) but...

The 'revolving door' on her front porch was pretty amusing as it seemed like everyone just came and went as they pleased (and Plymouth was all on board with it).

Elwood is, unsurprisingly, concerned due to all that he has seen and heard. So far all indications are he will end up having to save Plymouth from herself.

What I find interesting (although I am not sure if it is actually intended to come off this way as I might just be reading into things) is that Brooke's prior relationships were, well, more normal. They did involve bondage of course, but it usually went back and forth, and ultimately the core of those relationships was based on love and affection.

But they also tended to end poorly one way or another.

It seems like now she is no longer interested in affection and love. She just wants the bondage, the play, the submission, and she does not seem picky about where she gets it from. Obviously I've mentioned how that is not healthy in a 'physical' way, but now I am starting to think there is a mental aspect to it. It is like she has given up, in a way, and now just wants to satisfy her desires as quickly and expediently as possible.

Just a thought.
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Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago
What I find interesting (although I am not sure if it is actually intended to come off this way as I might just be reading into things) is that Brooke's prior relationships were, well, more normal. They did involve bondage of course, but it usually went back and forth, and ultimately the core of those relationships was based on love and affection.

But they also tended to end poorly one way or another.

It seems like now she is no longer interested in affection and love. She just wants the bondage, the play, the submission, and she does not seem picky about where she gets it from. Obviously I've mentioned how that is not healthy in a 'physical' way, but now I am starting to think there is a mental aspect to it. It is like she has given up, in a way, and now just wants to satisfy her desires as quickly and expediently as possible.
Wiped that part of your reply in this quote, but I'm glad you enjoyed the 'revolving door' of comings and goings all whilst Plymouth stood bound.

This though, what I did capture in the quotes, is a good observation. But I don't want to say any more. I'd love to comment properly on your comment, but fear to do so could give things away or hint at things.

What I will say is I'm glad the change is noted, that Brooke does indeed seem to care only for the bondage now, almost to the point of obsessing over submitting. That she's stopped wanting more normal things.

I hope you'll continue to follow, as there is a conclusion, answers, out there.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

I mean, I was more stating observations. Not expecting spoilers (nor do I want them). So I completely understand and respect staying quiet.

But I think the biggest tipping point was when she blew off her appointment with Elwood. Technically Deborah kind of did that, but Plymouth had no problem with it (and never mentioned it later), and she did know it was that day and that it would likely play out that way if she went.

As they say, one of the markers of an addiction (and what makes it different from having a passion for something) is when it starts to consume the rest of one's life (no longer carrying out responsibilities/keeping commitments in order to satisfy the addiction).
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago I hope you'll continue to follow, as there is a conclusion, answers, out there.
Plan to!
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Post by RopeBunny »

019.

For the next three nights we do this.

Each morning, a work day for me, Deborah frees me from the cage, kisses me goodbye on the doorstep.

And each evening I return, to her, to the cage. Always, due to the distance and my long shifts, arriving at bedtime, arriving to be locked straight up.

A single kiss.

No playing.

And. I mean. Well. Is this it? I mean. Stop it Brooke. This is. Fun. A fantasy made real. I just. Well.

More fucking would be nice.

These brief doubts flash through me as I pull up outside Deborah's on night three. I pause, still straddling my now quiet chopper, staring across at my keeper's front door.

"I mean." Reaching up to finger my steel collar.

"Ah. Fuck it." Shaking my head, forcing all thought from my mind.

Ten minutes later, curled up naked, locked away in the. My. Cage, Deborah asleep in bed beside me. And. I feel content. Calm. Happy to be here, to be Deborah's busty used toy.

So, what exactly was all the fuss about?

On my last shift, only the single day off to come but still, I message Deborah whilst on break.

'Last shift. Just saying x'

'Good.' Deborah sends back moments later. 'No sleep for you tonight x'

I grin, and type out a reply. The messages near whizzing back and forth as the afternoon plods on.

'No?'

'No.'

'Going to lock me in the cage with a chatterbox? x'

'No.' Which for some reason, not being locked in with some strange girl, makes me sad.

My phone buzzes moments later, before I can reply.

'Not the cage, you'll keep me awake all fucking night lol. Will lock you in the box downstairs x'

'Oh. Ha.' The box that pretends to be a table of course. 'What's her name then?'

'Alice x'

'Riiiiight. Wink wink. Alice x'

'Yep. I'll even toss in a ballgag so you can shut her up. Because I'm a nice girl like that xx'

'Wow. That is generous, a gag I can use to shut the imaginary girl up. Thanks x'

'Careful B. She might just gag you first x'

'Suits me. Wink x'

By now it's almost two. Deborah's next reply doesn't come for almost an hour.

'What time you coming slut?'

'When you make me!' I send back, grinning at my double meaning, at my cheekiness.

'Ha. Funny girl.' My grin grows, imagining those black painted lips tutting, smirking. 'Got swimming at nineteen hundred. Join me x'

'What is this the army? lol'

'YES. So. Be here for half six otherwise I'll have to court martial you xx'

Which, the message, is accompanied by some very choice emoji.

Luckily, or not. Might've been interesting to see just what the casual threat entailed. I arrive at just before half past, managing to catch an early finish for once. Deborah answers her door in much the same outfit as me: tight jeans and a fitted tee, though she's wearing her usual chunky black boots whereas I'm in blue Adidas.

"Got a swimsuit?"
"Right here." Pulling a bikini, sky blue sports bra style top with black thong style tie side bottoms, out of my saddlebag. Plus a rainbow striped towel.

"Good." Deborah nods to a bag beside the door. "Keys and phone in the basket, bikini in the bag."

A bag which, very obviously, contains a good amount of rope and a ballgag alongside Deborah's towel and one piece. Which means.

My heart skips several beats.

My mouth goes dry.

My nipples leap to attention.

She intends, best guess, to abandon me. Most likely at the pool. And if I do as I'm told, surrendering my phone and keys, I'll have no way to call for help once. If. I'm free.

She's looking at me. Waiting. Patient. Small grin spreading those kissable lips wider, chest rising and falling prehaps slightly quicker, like mine.

"O." I have to stop, swallow. I nod. "Okay." Tossing my keys and phone into the basket, my swim stuff into the bag. "Okay."
"Good." Smile stretched wide now, still the victor, still the boss of me. "Come on then B."

The swim turns out to be girls, ladies, only. Which is probably just as well considering how many looks Deborah and me receive just from the females present. My own bikini top, despite being based on a sports bra, isn't large enough to properly cover my F cups, and doesn't squash them down the way sports bras tend to. Deborah's one piece- black of course -is sensible, but her chest is large, so there's a ton of cleavage on show, plus her pert butt isn't covered by the thong style thin bottom strap.

We swim, almost non stop, for close to fourty minutes before getting out. My heart beat beginning to speed up as Deborah retrieves her bag from the lockers.

Becoming faster still as she guides me through the changing area, down a row of small cubicles, around a corner, finding an empty larger unit.

Ushering me inside.

"Lay down." Gesturing to a three slat bench running the cubicles length against the back wall, opposite the now closed door.

"Not." Looking down at myself, back up. "Naked?"
"Not." Shaking her head. "Here." Handing over a black ballgag, black rubber ball, black leather straps. Deborah grins. "I want to watch you gag yourself."

Which turns me on, whatever it does to Deborah, facing her, buckling the gag tightly onto my face, ball pressed tight between jaws forced wide, teeth biting down on that familiar rubber taste. Eyes locked on hers as I comply, doing as I'm told.

All that. And. Fuck. I'm horny enough for anything now.

"Mmggggpppfffff mmmmmm." I moan, softly lest someone hear because I can hear other people all around.

"You are." Stepping close, running a hand down my body, over my still wet bikini clad breast. "So damn cute."
"Ffffgggggmmmmm."
"There's a coffee shop." Having reached inside my top, she's pulling on one of my rings, driving me crazy. "Listen B."
"Mmmffffff gggmmffff." Please. Fuck me. Tie me up. Fuck me. Whatever. Only. Fuck me.

"A coffee shop." Nodding. "About two miles up the road. I'll be there for an hour or so." Deborah licks my ballgag. "If you don't come," a shrug, a playful grin masking the very real and- I really should care more but I don't -dangerous potential outcome, "I'll assume you've had a better offer."

"Now." Pointing again as she fetches rope from the bag. "Go lay down."

Deborah lashes me in place, laid on my back with arms reaching up and legs together. It's a large changing room, family size, for the weekends when, I'd seen a sign, they dump a bunch of inflatables in the pool and fire up the slide. Large but laid down my body stretches from one wall to the other.

She's as firm, as harsh, as always. Yanking and tugging at the ropes, at my limbs. Doing a proper job, securing me in place. Making sure I can't leave with her.

Deborah places my clothes under the bench, folded. She keeps my towel though. I watch as she strips off, dries, gets changed back into jeans and her tee.

After which she leaves. No hesitation at the changing room door, no backwards glance or kiss, no comment.

She abandons me.

Pulling the door closed, walking away.

And, just like last time, the adrenaline crashes down on me. The rush of nerves and excitement and fear and a good dose of lust as my brain goes overboard imagining all the things that might happen.

And. This is so much more public then the hotel room.

And. I'm not even sure now, trying to think and I'm just drawing blanks, am I in a female only changing section or can men wander freely?

The door, closed but not locked, swings a couple of inches open, creaking loudly as it does.

I squirm. Still quite wet: bikini, hair, skin merely damp by now though. All the water has made Deborah's ropes wet though, and being wet has made, is making, them tighter. I can feel the coarseness rubbing against my wrists as I struggle, can feel the.

With a sudden bang the door swings open to admit three late teenage- maybe twenty, most likely eight or nineteen -girls wearing outside clothes, each one with a sports bag slung over one shoulder.

They're laughing, and had I not been so lost in my own predicament I'd of heard them coming. But, as it is we're as surprised as each other when they finally get around to looking.

"Oh?"
"Fucking." Brief laughter. "What?"
"Um." The third, a handful of dress sizes larger then the other two, who aren't exactly skinny themselves. Her gaze flashes to mine, for an instant. And there's something like recognition there.

She nods. Once. Turns to the other too.

"Quick." All but pushing them out of the cubicle. "Go and. Um..."
"Get help?"
"Yes." Giving the girl who'd spoke an extra shove, moving into the doorway. Is she blocking them coming back in? "Go and find someone."

And off they go. Not fast I note, watching from my low down view point, seeing between the girl in the doorways legs. They aren't running, but off they go.

Leaving me alone. With the larger of the three girls: glasses, dyed purple hair and some interesting inkwork on her right arm.

Who closes the door. Pushes the lock. Turns to face me.

Smiles.

"Maybe." Seesawing a hand. "We. You've." Pointing at me. "Got five minutes before those two manage to find someone. And I expect," her smile grows, "that you don't want to be here to answer questions when they return." Coming closer, kneeling down, she, rather bold if I do say so, takes hold of the waistband at the side of my thong, pulls it out, let's it snap back. "Am I right." Giving me a look. "Plymouth?"

Ah.

I see.

It would appear I've been discovered by, maybe, a fan.

"Mmmmfffffffmm." I nod, looking into her eyes. She's cute, young. What skin and body shape I can see is large yes, but firm. Her breasts, possibly C's, are nicely rounded under her blue tee.

"Okay. Here's the deal." All business, talking fast. "I'll free you. Quickly. But in return I want you to come over my flat this Sunday. For. Um." She blushes, but barrels on. "I want to film a shoot. Just you and me. For. Um. Just for me to have."

Wow. Were I not gagged I'd be grinning. Because far from being a terribly bad forfeit, far from whatever true evils I might've had to endure before gaining freedom. That actually sounds fun.

And yes she is a stranger. And yes I was put in a similar- kind of blackmail, being forced to do a shoot as payment for a favour owed -position some time ago. But, this has a different feel to it. I don't feel like I'm being forced here, nor backed into a corner.

I nod. And she visibly deflates as whatever tension she'd been holding in leaves.

Guess she was expecting a no?

True to her word she frees me, quickly.

"Thanks." Dressing as fast as I'm able with aching semi numb- from the ropes -limbs. "I owe you one."
"Was it for a shoot?" Idly twirling one of the ropes. "There's no camera?"
"No. It was." Um. It was? "It was a bet. And." I shrug. Laugh. "I lost."
"Oh." She laughs too.

"You...." Called out after me as I walk away. I stop, turn. She's stood in the changing room doorway. Looking hopeful, nervous.

"Yes?"
"You. Um. You will come," looking down at the rope in her hand, back up at me, "won't you?"
"I'll be there Tasha." Out of time, but fuck it. I dash, closing the distance.

"I." Giving Tasha a quick hug, a kiss on the lips. "Promise. Kay?"
"Kay." Like a squeak. I'd actually felt her breath catch as I kissed her. I grin. "Message me." Walking away again now, backwards, enjoying the sight of her smile. "Tell me where and when."
"Right." Tasha gives me a thumbs up, which I return, before turning around to make a swift exit.

The coffee shop isn't hard to find, luckily. Deborah isn't even inside, she's sat on a bench looking down the road, back towards the swimming pool, back towards me. I can see her grin from miles away.

"That was quick." Amused, pretending to check a watch she isn't wearing. "Sure there's, like, twenty minutes left?"
"Some girl helped me." I shrug, not sitting, managing to- only just -control the urge to pounce on Deborah and tear her clothes off I'm that horny after the whole bondage and being left ordeal.

"Yeah?" Raised eyebrows. "How'd you swing that one?"
"I've got to go see her on Sunday." I shrug, unable to stop the grin surfacing. "She wants to tie me up."

Deborah laughs. Stands.

"Come on B." Taking my hand, steering me towards her car. "Time to go."

And. She'd been right. Because once we're back at Deborah's there's so much fucking, and drinking, and fucking, neither of us gets any sleep before dawn light begins to pierce the horizon.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey,
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Which, the message, is accompanied by some very choice emoji.
I like that description :lol:.

Interesting power play by Deborah.

Maybe I missed it but not sure where Tasha introduced herself to Plymouth. Seemed she just knew her name out of hand.

Either way, looks like Plymouth is finding more play partners. Deborah seems surprisingly nonchalant about it.
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Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago
Maybe I missed it but not sure where Tasha introduced herself to Plymouth. Seemed she just knew her name out of hand.
Supposed to be one of those 'happened off camera' moments.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Supposed to be one of those 'happened off camera' moments.
I did get that, but while I was reading I ended up doing a double (and then triple) take and rereading the whole passage multiple times to see if I missed something because it seemed to just jump over the fact and it was very confusing for a minute. I assume you were trying to save on pointless words, but I feel like a short line about how they exchanged contact information to facilitate meeting up or something would have helped smooth things out.

But it is likely I am just being picky, and either way it is true it does not really change anything. Probably should not have brought it up at all.
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Post by RopeBunny »

020.

"Here Lil." Upending the bottle of Grey Goose vodka, Lili's favourite, letting the contents spill and cascade down onto the earth directly in front of my ex girlfriends tombstone. "I bought you something."

"Cheers." Raising my own bottle of water, has to be what with my chopper, which used to be Lili's chopper, parked not twenty feet away. I swallow. Shiver and wipe my eyes. Take a moment to find calm, to focus on why I'm here.

I will not cry.

"I could really use your help pretty girl." Sniffing, which I bury under a second long gulp of water. "If you've got the time, I could do with a friendly ear to listen."

But. Just where in the falling apart out of control whirlwind of shit that is my life do I begin?

Deborah.

Ruth.

Two problems. And both of them in large part my own fault. This whirlwind is of my own creation, mostly.

So. "What do I do?"

For awhile I simply stand, head up, eyes on the horizon. Listening to the wind rustle the nearby trees, listening to life going on.

"I wish you were here Lil." Sniffing, not sad at my life- my own fault remember, no point getting upset when I'm the cause -but I miss her. More when I come here. "Still." I shrug, down some more water, sit myself on the grass. "Let's talk awhile. Okay?"

Of course there's no answer. But I can picture her cheeky smile. "Thanks Lil." I smile back.

"The thing of it is that" I don't know when to say stop, and that, my total willingness to plunge headlong into anything even remotely to do with bondage, not stopping to think about consequences or what happens next.
Well.

That's what's got me in this hole.

"Let me explain."
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Post by RopeBunny »

Kind of jumped ahead a bit. Except not really, because as you can see I'm about to go back and tell a tale.

Or at least Plymouth is.

This. All that I'm trying to do here. Well. It's a story I liked when I thought it up. But it's proved hard to write at times.

The trouble is I like Plymouth. I want her to be safe. In many ways I feel a connection with her, as silly as it may sound when I write this story I'm kind of living her life in my head.

Which is why writing the bad parts (Deborah and the slide down into being owned) has been hard at times.

That's why I'm doing it this way, cutting some of what I planned out, but the overall effect will be the same.

I hope you'll all carry on with me.

Thanks.
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