Plymouth. (MF+/F+) *NEW 15/02 NEW* (Finished...?)

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

I knew I missed something when I visited Disney. Great update.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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BlissfulMisery
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

A good bit of back and forth, with some uncertainty and starts and stops mixed in. Appropriate, given the ad-hoc nature of it.

Good that things were not left up in the air between them, although as already mentioned in the text, hopefully it does not make the shoot awkward for them.
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Post by RopeBunny »

tickletied84 wrote: 1 year ago not sure it's one of the regularly advertised 'after hours' experiences on offer at Disney :lol:
slackywacky wrote: 1 year ago I knew I missed something when I visited Disney. Great update.
Choose a Princess, tie her up :lol: ;) sounds like a guaranteed money maker.

Thanks everyone.
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Post by RopeBunny »

019.

"I never told you about Sammy."
"Sammy?" Fayth frowns. "No." Grinning at me. "I think we were too busy."

Batgirl and Supergirl. Surely at some point they've sat out in the shade, avoiding the days heat, drinking water and not doing hero stuff?

No doubt Fayth and me, were anyone other then Jordan able to see us, would make for an interesting picture.

Our costumes are certainly good enough. I'm back in my blue with the red cape, skirt too short and no underwear allowed, F cup hugging top, also too short, costume. Fayth, lounging beside me, sat on the steps leading down from Jordan's back porch to his garden whilst I lean against the bannister, looks great.

Batgirl also has options when it comes to an official costume, different colours and styles. At the heart of Jordan's choice, which Fayth models very well, is a skintight grey one piece, a light shade, the bat symbol picked out in yellow, spread large and wide across the swell of her D cups.

Fayth's knee high boots are yellow too, as are the tight elbow length gloves. Her cape, longer then mine, is blue, and comes with a mask in the bat style, covering her eyes whilst leaving the mouth free.

Under the mask bright red hair explodes, not Fayth's natural blonde locks.

And, yes, we've both had a giggle that she, despite being a blonde, isn't playing Supergirl.

Only being here for two days means Jordan's focusing on Fayth, getting her finished. So far today Fayth's had a solo shoot: hogtied on the floor. And now we've got two doubles to film.

"So who is she?"
"I don't know?"
"Oh?" Puzzled. "Well." Frowning up at me. "I don't understand?"
"Not sure I do either." Grinning as I remember. "She's. Um. A girl, who came to my room. And." Leaving a whole bunch of stuff out. "We played."
"Yeah?" Smiling, a nod. "Is she cute?"
"Yeah."
"She tie you up?"
"Well." Laughing. "Actually I tied myself."

Fayth laughs too.

"Seeing her again?"
"Um...."
"Did you get her number?"
"Well...."
"So. Hang on." Trying not to laugh again, hand to her mouth. Taking a breath. "Some. Strange girl was in your room, you tied yourself up. And she didn't even want to swap numbers?"

"Fuck off." Flicking water from my bottle at Fayth, her infectious laughter bubbling out of me too now. "I was just distracted that's all."

Cursing myself now though, because she'd been cute, and a really good kisser.

"Ready ladies." Appearing at the back door, amused smile when he finds us both alternately laughing and trying to stop. "Let's be having you."

A chair tie first, back to back, tied identically.

Which means legs spread wide apart, lower legs either side of the chair, not at the front, bent and pulled backwards, pinned by tied ankles lashed high up to the rear chair legs. Arms are tied together at elbow and wrist, the chairs are low backed so our arms are touching between them, in the gap, mine tied to Fayth's.

No chest harness, no crotch ropes.

We're both ballgagged.

"Fayth?"
"Mmffppppfffff."
"Good." Seeing Jordan, walking from around the other side, coming to kneel in front of me. Eye contact. "Plymouth?"
"Fffmmmmppppp." I nod. Ready.

"Okay. Ladies. Thank you." Standing, walking back to his equipment, set up in one corner of the room. "Filming in three." An audible click, around the room powerful lights spring to life. "Two. One."

The second shoot is definitely more. Um. Fun.

There's always a contract, paperwork to sign, both Jordan and me have to sign, and I get a copy. Which I do keep. There's a folder at home slowly thickening as I add each contract, right back to my first job, to it.

The contract states what's going to happen, to show we've agreed limits and so forth. However some are more open ended then others. For instance this one, for FantasyBound, states that ropes and anything sexual concerning girl/girl is okay, but doesn't go into specifics regarding what ties I'll be placed in.

I guess Fayth's didn't either, from the surprised look on her face when Jordan, having finished binding her in place steps back, and, gesturing to me says.

"Okay, Plymouth, climb up there and lay on Fayth please."

My eyes dart to hers, already seeking mine. Jordan doesn't see, or doesn't pick up on, the look that passes between us. Something like an awkward half smile. Last night, still so fresh, and yes it was fun. The lazy cuddle and kiss scattered wake up this morning proved we both had a good time. No regrets.

I just don't think either of us expected to be getting so intimate so soon after.

But. We can't say no, because this is work.

She's been tied spread eagle fashion, still in full Batgirl mode, cape pressed against the bed beneath her, mask still on. Jordan has used rope, one piece per limb, stretching Fayth's arms and legs into a perfect X, reaching for corner posts she can't quite touch.

"Are we," trying to sound casual, "face to face?"
"Please." Over by a drawer unit, pulling out more rope, which means he doesn't see our eyes meet again.

A charge jumping the gap.

"Hey."
"Hey. Back." Voice sounding a little off, faint, not quite even. Nor does mine. Up on the bed, laid atop her, our faces are now inches apart, Fayth can no doubt feel the weight of me pressing down, just as I can feel the heat from her crotch leaking up.

"Arms. Plymouth."
"Sorry." My short cape has been knotted several times, shortening it, making it like a bunched wad behind me, out of the way. Now, as I offer up my arms, Jordan binds wrists and elbows behind me.

Unable to keep my head held up forever, I rest it on Fayth's shoulder, her breathing, slowed, shallow, now directly in my ear.

Each of my ankles are bound to Fayth's, and to the corner posts, spreading my legs in a mirror of hers.

"Can you feel that, Fayth?"
"Y. Yes." Nodding as I feel her heartbeat quicken.

"Plymouth?"
"I can." Managing to answer better then Fayth, but only because Jordan asked me second.

What we can both feel, though not see, is a wand vibrator somehow fixed and angled so it's pressing on both our crotches even as they're pressed together.

Not turned on. Yet. But the press of it, the solidness, touching my clit. It's like a promise. Or a threat.

Lifting my head back up I look at Fayth, seeing the same knowledge there: we're about to be forced into the same orgasm. Together. Bound together.

"So. Um." Looking at me as she speaks to Jordan. "What's the plan here?"
"Simple really." Kneeling down beside the bed, face level with ours. Smiling and oblivious. "I'll turn the wand on, and film the two of you enjoying it."
"Right." I flash Jordan a quick smile. "Are we. Um." Glancing down at Fayth. "Getting gagged?"

Please. I know she's thinking it too. Because whilst this will be fun, and the continuing exchange of nervous smiles tells me Fayth thinks so too, it will be awkward. Coming- ha -so close on the heels of our not forced into it by being tied together for work fun.

Being gagged will take kissing off the table. Because if our lips aren't locked away, chances are we'll start kissing whether Jordan wants it or not.

"No." Shake of his head. "I want you to," quick pause, flicked finger from Fayth to me, "make out. Okay?"

"Oh." Is about all I can manage. All Fayth does is nod.

"Great." Grinning, Jordan gives us a thumbs up. Stands.

"Oh. Ladies." Like Columbo, stopping halfway back to his equipment, turning with a finger raised. "I'll be shooting for awhile, just to make sure we get plenty of good angles. Close ups and crap, whilst you're climaxing. Okay."

Not a question. We're being paid to do this after all. So, we both nod.

I think the weight of it all- that we're bound together, now forced to cum, so soon after last night and all that happened -is still sinking in.

Needless to say Jordan gets his footage, likely far better then he expected.

The vibrator must be on a remote, or neither of us sees him turn it on.

Granted we're both a little distracted anyway.

"Just." Giving me a small nod, a smile that says 'everything's alright' as Jordan gives us his three count in. "Roll with it." Fayth whispers up at me.

"Don't worry," whispered back, winking, making Fayth's smile grow, "I've had plenty of practice."

So at first it's just us, no buzzing insistence from the wand. For a couple of minutes we struggle, gently though since we don't want to dislodge the vibrator, upsetting Jordan's setup. Fayth wriggles against her ropes, and above her I do the same.

We don't moan, it's more like quiet grunting, proof of effort being made to attempt impossible freedom.

Fayth's arms and legs, locked rigid as she tugs on all four ropes at once, muscles strained.

Me, arms lifted high up off my back, working them back and forth trying to pull free of my ropes.

Im. Possible.

Fayth kisses me first, small quick things across my cheek as I struggle, head rested on her shoulder.

Taking her cue I tilt to the side, bringing our lips together.

Feeling a spark as we kiss.

Jordan, clearly taking this as our cue, if we're giving one, turns on the wand.

Causing the sudden jump start of buzzing on my clit, on Fayth's latex clad crotch, to make us both yelp and moan into the others mouth.

We share a look, Fayth, lips still on mine, grins. Kisses me again.

Fuck it. Might as well enjoy the shoot.

Kissing. Moaning. Panting closer to the end, both of us spent, running out of energy having climaxed a half dozen times, two of them very close together: me setting off Fayth setting off me all over again. And all whilst Jordan hovers and glides in and out of sight, camera in hand. Zooming in, out. Capturing our kisses and struggles.

The press of my- by the end exposed -F cups against Fayth's bat symbol hugged D's.

Our lips, locked, kisses becoming more urgent and frenzied as another orgasm builds.

Fayth's body bucking under mine, losing control towards the end. And me, moaning above her, powerless to stop my own onrushing climax.

Weird. But.

"Fun."
"Yeah?" Sat in my hire car, Fayth beside me, outside the airport. Dropping her off before I head for the hotel. It's taken most of the day to do these three shoots: prep time, shooting, then freeing us before having to prep and reset for the next one.

We stopped for dinner at a drivethru enroute, not sure I could ever get used to the size of some US portions. But the food was good, and we, prehaps avoiding the subject, made small talk whilst eating.

But now Fayth has a plane to catch, and I guess neither of us is shy, so.

"Yeah." Holding my hand, body turned sideways whilst I'm facing forward, but looking at her. Fayth grins. Cheeky. "You did say we should make it a two or three time thing."
"Or a ten." Smiling back. Patting- gently -my still tender crotch.

"Fun though."
"Definitely." Pulling her hand up to my lips, kissing it. "No regrets here."
"Good." Letting go my hand, running her thumb across my lips, making me shiver. "I'm." A quick shrug. "Still not sure if I want to be noticing girls. But." Nodding. "I'm glad I tried." Leaning across the space to kiss me. Soft, a goodbye that goes on awhile.

"With you." Whispered as she pulls back, dropping the hand that'd been teasing at my hair, running it down over the swell of my breast, back into her lap.

"Anytime." Feeling my nipple wake up. And with Fayth leaving too. Fucking, honestly. Teasing little. I grin. "You want me, for a shoot, a chat." Winking. "A fuck." Fayth giggles. "I'm around."
"Crossing the pond just for a fuck huh?" Looking thoughtful. "That good am I?"
"Am. I." Pointing at myself, cheeky smile. "You want a fuck." Darting a hand forwards to brush Fayth's nipple. Revenge for my own. "You cross the damn pond and come find me."

We both laugh. I give her a last hug, a quicker kiss, outside, before waving her into the terminal.

Starting back towards my hotel, with a day off tomorrow before I'm needed back at Jordan's to finish the Supergirl shoot.
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Post by GreyLord »

[mention]RopeBunny[/mention], when you are on a roll, you are one hot writer. Great episode.
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Post by RopeBunny »

GreyLord wrote: 1 year ago when you are on a roll, you are one hot writer. Great episode.
Thank you sir, happy to find you're enjoying my efforts :D
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Amusing to see Fayth (teasingly) point out some of the flaws in what Plymouth did at the hotel.

Once again, captures the inherent tension/awkwardness well, and highlights some of the pitfalls of mixing 'work' and 'play'. Even given their experience, things cannot help but change when the camera is rolling...

Their parting feels very 'real'; neither is exactly sure what to say, and it feels like there is something left to be said or done, but at the same time, it seems impossible to point to what that is exactly. But perhaps reading more into it then was ever intended.
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Post by JennyTied »

This is great!
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Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago
Their parting feels very 'real'; neither is exactly sure what to say, and it feels like there is something left to be said or done
It was meant to be done this way, can't always be a super happy ending, everyone together and off into the sunset.

Thanks for commenting.
JennyTied wrote: 1 year ago This is great!
Hey. Thanks for the comment :D
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Post by RopeBunny »

020.

"Don't you ever wear clothes?"
"Not when there's a pretty girl at my door."
"Ha." Smiling, faint blush climbing her cheeks.

Fresh out the shower, hair damp, body wrapped in a fluffy white towel that just about covers my modesty, of course I opened the door seeing Sammy through the spyhole.

"Morning."
"Morning."
"You weren't here yesterday."
"No." Leaning on my doorframe, fighting the brief urge to grab hold and pull Sammy into my room, or drop my towel to see what she'll do. "I was working, out at Daytona."
"Nice."

"I. Might've." Leaning back against the far wall, hands in jeans front pockets, giving me a cheeky grin. "Come by to see you once or twice."
"Yeah?"
"Or." Laughing. "Maybe twenty times."
"Well." Holding my door open. "I'm here now."

Ducking under my outstretched arm Sammy walks into my room, smiling and tossing a thin dark red waterproof jacket in the vague direction of the chair, I follow, letting the door swing closed behind us.

"So." Stood face to face in the rough centre of my room, I spread my arms in a semi shrug. Smile. "What can I do for you?"
"Well." Digging her phone out of a butt pocket. "I went looking. And." Holding the screen out towards me. "That's you, right?"

Like a montage. Sammy swipes, and swipes. Showing me image after image of, me. Mostly taken from professional shoots, working for bondage pay sites. I smile, seeing myself tied and gagged a variety of ways, costumes and settings changing with each swipe, only me and the ropes a constant.

Each picture really could summon a thousand words, a memory of that day, that shoot. The why and the who and the what site.

Mixed in are images from the handful of adult conventions I've worked, and, at the end, making me smile all the wider: me in a pretty dress, backstage at the Acadamie ceremony, little statue for winning 'Best Newcomer' in my hand.

Mum has that same photo, framed, on a bookcase at home.

"Yeah." Can't help smiling as memories rise. "That's me."
"Rope. Um." Turning the phone back, looking at it, over the top of it at me. "Modelling?"
"If you still want to call it that."
"And that's what you were doing yesterday?"
"Yes." Taking a couple of steps back so I can lean, sort of sit, on the rooms desk. "That's what I flew over here to do."

"Flew?"
"Across the pond."
"Ah. So you're here to work?"
"Bit of both." Shrugging.

"Right." Nodding. "And this," turning her phone back to face me, the Acadamie photo still on screen, "sta-"
"-My."
"Right. Oh." Phone facing her again, brief frown. "Your. Um. Oscar's statue. Um why does it have a cock. And tits?"

"Because it isn't an Oscar." I grin. "It's from the Acadamie Internationale d'art pour Adultes."
"Who?"
"Exactly." Laughing at Sammy's frown. "It's my award, for best newcomer a couple of years ago."
"Oh." Clicking her phone off, tossing it onto my bed. "So." Giving me a shy smile. "Beautiful and a winner."

My turn to blush.

"What was all that Mark crap about?"
"Oh." Sammy laughs, waves a hand at my door. "Yeah. Sorry."
"S'okay." I take an educated guess based on what I saw. "Bit of a wanker?"
"Totally." Shaking her head, tutting. "Wouldn't take no, like." Huffing. "Like just because he's got a six pack every-"
"-He showed you?" Flash of intuition. Grinning. "Didn't he."

Sammy's laugh is answer enough.

"I lied." Giving a shrug. "Fake room number so at least I could fuck off. But." Glancing at my door over her shoulder.

"Followed you huh?" Guessing.

"Followed me." Another tut. "So, I kinda ran." Quick laughter. "Prayed I could talk my way in fast."
"Or just barge the door open."
"Well." She laughs, I do too. "Yeah. Sorry."
"All good." Waving it off. "You could've just let him knock on the wrong door though." Laughing again as Sammy's jaw opens, realising I'm right. "You didn't have to actually walk into your fake room."
"Oh...."

For a minute we just stand, or lean in my case, eyeballing each other. Me tamping down, for the second time, the urge to drop my towel by way of a flirty come on.

I don't. Yet. But I do take the chance for a first proper look at Sammy, having been too distracted the first time around.

Early to mid twenties, of an age with me, smooth skin the colour of chocolate and coffee, dark, pretty, complimented by jet black curling hair that tumbles around her shoulders. A size sixteen, curves that draw and hold my gaze like multiple traps. Thicker upper arms and legs, a rounded butt, and pert C cups that sit atop a belly that looks cute, a hump that presses and strains at her too tight tee but doesn't sag down over her jeans waistband.

"Are you local?"
"No." Shaking her head. "I'm. Um. Here on holiday. Um. With...."
"With...?" Nodding, feeling my stomach drop, waiting for her to say the word boyfriend, or husband. And of course she's here to say sorry, for last time, and to hope I'll be good and leave her alone.

That I'm not a stalker, will play nice and let her get back to happy married life.

"Um." Looking at the floor. "Don't laugh. But. I'm with my parents."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Looking back up, scowling, but a smile keeps leaking through, at the huge grin on my face. "I said don't laugh."
"Sorry."

Maybe she's free after all?

"So," asking again, "what can I do for you?"
"Well...." Gaze flicking down to my towel, small smile. "I was.... oh."

Oh. Because, fuck it I'm in that kind of mood, plus I can read the signals, and, Sammy was definitely picturing me naked.

So.

Now I am.

"This okay?" Towel a puddle on the floor behind me, I've advanced, slipping arms around Sammy as she stood, frozen with wide eyes. Pushing each hand into a separate butt pocket I've tugged her up against me, pressing my nakedness into her curves.

"I'm not sure." Reaching one hand around, slowly, to cup my butt. Bringing the other up when I smile, placing it against my breast. "What kind of crazy girl would protest and say being cuddled by a sexy naked model wasn't okay?"
"Well." A shrug. "Had to ask." Taking the plunge. "Might be there's a special someone you have who'd not like my getting so personal?"

Shake of her head. A green light, clear for launch.

"Was there a plan?" Moving my face, lips, closer. "Or did you just come here to drop a hook, see whether I'd bite?"
"Not sure I'm dressed to be the bait?" Smiling, shy.

"So." Small shrug. "Go change, come back. Or." Smiling back. "Just."

Taking hold of her tee, gently tugging it up.

"Hang on." Not stopping me, but. "I thought."
"Thought?" Up. And. Sammy lifts her arms, helping, and her tee comes off. I toss it away as her hands return to my butt and breast, looking down at the bright pink lace push up bra I've discovered, the swell of cleavage exposed. "Nice."
"I thought we cou...."

Poor girl, not always easy to keep talking when someone's kissing the tops of your breasts.

"We could go to a park." Almost rushed out, like an expelled breath

"Okay." Letting go, stepping back. Putting my lust away for another time. I smile. Nod. "Which one? I already went to Disney."
"Me too." Nodding. "I don't want to do the animal one though."
"Seaworld?" Thinking. Is it, are there two? "I'm not fussed there."
"Universal?"
"Um. Great."

Finally registering the tee i just removed, the details, the green snake, the familiar- because who doesn't know the four houses -word.

"Universal huh?" Shaking my head, smiling. "Going to buy a wand are we?"
"Maybe." Smiling back at my teasing tone. "Guessing someone's not into magic and. You know." A shrug. Teasing back. "Fun things."
"Well. As it happens." Stepping back in close. "I'll have you know I went to a park called Fantasy Land once, and got chased around the onsite maze by some guys dressed in inflatable Tyrannosaurus costumes."

"You did fucking not." Stepping back, laughing. Shutting up at my serious expression, my nodding. "You did?"
"Hold on." Digging out my laptop, booting it up. "Let me show you."

Every shoot or photoset, well, most of them. I have a copy. Sometimes the site owner doesn't want to share, which is fine, they pay me to shoot me, so the resulting media belongs to them. But, Daniel, owner of StrangeRopes, is a friend, so anytime I shoot for him, he sends a copy.

I leave Sammy sat cross-legged on my bed, watching bound and gagged me running away in what was occasionally actual fear. Because at the time it had, once or twice, felt quite real. I grab up my towel, moving from suitcase to ensuite and back, changing, putting on eyeshadow and lipstick, getting ready.

Smiling each time Sammy laughs, because it is, at times, a funny video.

No doubt she's enjoying seeing my tits bounce too.

"Ready."
"Great." Climbing off the bed. "There's a bus," brief glance at her phone, "scheduled any minute. So let's go."

"I feel like." Slowing down, still walking through the park, but giving me a sideways look up and down. "Do you know how many people are checking you out?"
"I don't tend to pay attention." Shrugging. "Job I do, you can't really worry about crap like people staring."
"But." Silence again. I look across, seeing Sammy frown.

Stop, wheel around to bring us face to face, making her stop too.

"But what?"
"Well." Looking from me to her. "I feel. Um. Kinda plain next to you."

I mean, I did dress to impress.

Butt hugging faded blue denim shorts, cut short with a frayed hem and worn over black fishnet tights with quite large holes. A white vest top hugs my breasts, the low neckline and cut short design showing plenty of skin at cleavage and belly. Over the top of this is my biker jacket, whilst a matching white lace bra and thong set completes everything.

Dressing to impress, just, not everyone else.

Only her.

"Don't be silly." Stepping close, taking her hands in mine. "You know you're sexy. Right?"
"Well." Small smile.

"I'm here with you." Giving her hands a small squeeze. "Fuck everyone else."
"Well." Another flashed smile. "Yeah. But. Just as friends. Huh."
"Fuck off." Gentle, playful. I lean my head in closer still, whisper into her slightly parted lips, hearing her breath catch as my words hit home. "If you hadn't of suggested we come here to play wizards, I was about three minutes away from tearing the rest of those clothes off. And fucking the shit out of you on my bed."

Just to make my point clear. I kiss her.

Harsh tang of cigarettes again. She's not a chain smoker: one waiting for the bus, two more sneaked whilst we walk the park. The taste isn't off-putting. It's, new. But not a bad thing.

A Long, slow kiss. Pressing my F cups into her C's. Feeling, that's my girl, Sammy slide her hands round to grip my butt after a moments hesitation.

With a contented happy smile on her face, holding hands, we carry on.

Exploring. Spending far too much time queuing but such is the way in any theme park.

We talk, on and off, between frequent cuddles, blame all that standing around, and occasional kisses.

"What do you do?"
"I'm a nurse." Not looking as she answers, only glancing across after. Frowning at my grin. "What?"
"Just." Tamping down on my humour. "Always thought. Well." A shrug. "Nurse stuff, costumes, are supposed to be sexy."
"On Halloween maybe." Tutting. "Wouldn't call my blue scrubs sexy."
"I'll bet," Kissing her, "you look very cute."
"Then why the smile?"
"Always figured I'd be tied up as a nurse, for a shoot." I shrug. "Hasn't happened yet."
"Well." Pulling me into a hug. "Can't say I know how, but, we can work on it."

"Do you only do porn?" Prehaps too loud, or maybe the backing music in this area chooses the wrong moment to fade away. I smirk as Sammy clamps a hand over her mouth, shading red as almost everyone within earshot is suddenly looking our way. "I." Waving her hands around. "I mean."
"Sure it was called rope modelling?" Teasing. "Earlier."
"But it's porn though," quieter, not disgusted, curious, "right?"
"Pretty much." A shrug. Not ashamed. "And no, I work outdoors. With plants."
"Yeah?"
"Always have, since college."

"Did you," eating on a bench, crowd watching, I gesture in circles with my plastic fork, "do you, only like girls?"
"Drives my parents nuts." Smiling whilst shaking her head. "They're on the traditional side. But they love me, so they support me. But." Another shake. "They're traditional. It's quite complicated."
"I dated a couple of guys." Staring off into nothing. "But there was this one girl in school. We never kissed or anything, but, if she'd noticed me I think I'd of been happy."
"Do." Having been silent, holding hands. "Do you shoot. Um."
"Porn."
"I know what it is." Tutting at my smirk. "I just can't say the word as carefree as you."
"Anyway."
"Right. Do you shoot stuff with guys. Um?"
"Occasionally." A shrug. No big deal. "I've been fucked, by guys, whilst tied up. For work. Cash is cash."
"I guess." Smiling, but I can see that she doesn't properly understand how. How I, committed to girls, could still fuck a guy without it being a thing.

We spend most of the day doing wizard things. It isn't a franchise I've really ever invested in, mentally, but I have fun. Getting into the spirit.

I even buy a wand, after much deliberation. Something to go with the pink handled foam katana I acquired in Fantasy Land.

We get back to the hotel late, post dinner late. Arm in arm. No shyness on my part, but, I'm thinking on how to suggest we just go back to my room. To cuddle, make out. Fuck if you want to be crude.

Maybe I'll offer to tie myself up again, since it went down so well last time.

But, halfway across the lobby, my mouth already half open, Sammy's phone buzzes.

"Crap." Grimacing, letting go of me, stepping back. "Gotta go."
"Sure." I nod. "I've had fun though."
"Me too." Grinning, stepping in for a hug, kiss. A grope.

"Stop that," grinning too, swatting her hand off my breast, "or I'll drag you to my room and stop you leaving."
"By. Um." Playful grin. "Tying me up?"
"Sure." Feeling the flash of heat the thought ignites down in my crotch. She'd look amazing trussed and stretched to my bed, belly and breasts pointing at the ceiling. "Come on up and I'll show you."

And she, genuinely, looks tempted. Hesitating.

But then her phone buzzes again.

"Another time." Stuffing it back in her pocket. "Sorry." Kissing my cheek. "My parents need help with something."
"All good." Catching hold of her waistband as she moves back, pulling her in for a proper kiss. "I can wait."

I let go, Sammy leaves with a backwards glance, a grin and wave for me. I blow her a kiss.

Am back in my room before realising that, despite having spent a whole day with her, I never thought to ask for a phone number.
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Post by Caesar73 »

I really love that chapter, the conversation, the underlying subtext - or not so subtle subtext :) My favourite on this one the entry: Plymouth opening the door: Imagine what thoughts went through Sammy´s head that moment :)
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Post by slackywacky »

RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago But, halfway across the lobby, my mouth already half open, Sammy's phone buzzes.
They never learn to turn those things off. How many moments have been destroyed by a phone... :lol:
Very nice update (again). Thank you for keeping Plymouth around.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Thank you both, next chapter won't be too far off :D
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Plymouth slowly 'corrupting' another one of the youth I see - ignoring the fact that she is quite young herself.

A good change of pace for her to interact with someone who is new, and perhaps not all that into all of the bondage (and still has some of her shame intact!); Sammy seems to be more interested in her then the ropes. A good way for her to touch base perhaps, given the intensive nature of the whole trip she is on that lends itself to over focusing on 'the work'.
slackywacky wrote: 1 year ago They never learn to turn those things off. How many moments have been destroyed by a phone...
The true evils of technology :P.

Great ending with the forgetting to get the number again :lol:.
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Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago
A good change of pace for her to interact with someone who is new, and perhaps not all that into all of the bondage
A good change, I agree. Thought it would be nice to introduce a girl for Plymouth to bounce off who doesn't work in porn, and who (for now at least ;) :lol: ) has no knowledge or interest in bondage.
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Post by slackywacky »

RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago has no interest in bondage.
Those people exist? Wow, what a boring life they must live :lol:
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Post by GreyLord »

slackywacky wrote: 1 year ago
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago has no interest in bondage.
Those people exist? Wow, what a boring life they must live :lol:
That is even worse that people that don't drink. They wake up in the morning knowing that is the best that they are going to feel all day.
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Post by RopeBunny »

021.

"I." Huffing down the phone. "Suck at dating."
"What happened?" Fayth asks from, I think, her house on the West Coast. I can hear a small smile in her voice. "You tie yourself up again?"
"No." Huffing again. "I."
"Tell me Brooke." Serious. "I'm sorry. Talk to me."

So I do. Sat outside Jordan's, back in my inappropriate but cool Supergirl costume for the final time, one shoot- a tight post tie with way too much thick silver tape, almost a mummification -down, one to go. I tell her.

That I'd all but missed the note, had stepped on it, only the noise alerting me. A single folded sheet pushed under my door. A bomb.

'Brooke.'

Flowing script, slightly messy style half the letters joined together.

'Early flight. A family emergency at home. I didn't want to wake you, didn't want to leave without saying goodbye.

And.

I had fun. With you.

Should've stayed in your room, yesterday. Shoulda woulda coulda. Ha. Prehaps you'd even of modelled for me again. Prehaps, given enough of a push, I'd of modelled for you too.

(Wouldn't of needed much of a push, not for you xx)

I like you Brooke.

But.'

And there's even a large gap here, on the note, several blank lines before Sammy continues.

'It. Well. Let's be realistic. You're an easy ten. Maybe the first eleven I've ever met. And, well, I know I'm a five, prehaps a six on a good day.

It wouldn't work, long term. I like you, but I can be realistic. So. No number at the bottom of the page.

Take care of you, keep smiling.

Sammy xx'

"Fuck."
"I know."
"Shit Brooke, I'm sorry." I can, like the humour earlier, almost hear her shaken head. "She was growing on you huh?"
"I thought we had something going." Nodding, staring glumly at the sky. "Given time."

"Can you find her?"
"Not a fucking chance." Picking up a twig, tossing it across the garden. Because. "I've thought it through. Her name. What she does. I don't know enough." I don't even know if she's in England, an accent doesn't mean you live there.

"Well." Silence, stretching out. I let it. Finally Fayth breathes out. "You need me, to chat. Ring me."
"Thanks Fayth." Looking up, seeing Jordan through the back door, he waves, I give a thumbs up. "I need to get back."

I stand. Breathe in. Out. In. Bounce up and down on my toes. Stretch, arms out cruciform. Make a grin for the world. "Okay." Nodding, not perfect, but, better. Time for work.

Getting tied up always brings a smile to my face, and a really fucking tight hogtie always helps me forget about everything else.

I find Poison Ivy, a model called Denise, waiting alongside Jordan in the bedroom. She's sat on the bed talking to him across the room, him tapping away at a laptop. There's a sizable pile of rope beside her, large enough to set my heart fluttering because that much rope isn't going to mean some silly simple hogtie.

Nope. Denise will be playing for keeps.

She does, I'm aware- because I do try to look up anyone I'll be working with as no doubt most of them do me -largely Domme stuff. The girl in charge, very rarely on the receiving end.

"Plymouth. Hey." Standing, coming in for a hug. "You okay?"
"Yeah." She doesn't mean about Sammy anyway, nobody save Fayth knows about my crashed and burned on take-off non romance. I smile, nod. "I'm good."
"Don't worry," giving me a playful sideways nudge, "I'll go easy on you."
"No you won't." Smiling back, head shaking. "Not with that much rope."
"What can I say," Arms spread wide to shrug, "I love my job."
"Fucking lucky I love mine too huh."

"Ladies." Jordan, breaking up our laughter as it begins to die down. "Ready?"

Denise's costume is just as well made, just as slutty, as mine. She's a skinny muscled ten, early thirties with natural black hair cut short and spiked up on top. I've seen a couple of her videos, she looks mean.

Fayth's red fake hair, which wasn't Fayth's to keep anyway, suits the overall look. Ivy is a redhead after all.

No shoes, or socks, or tights. The only thing she's wearing is the corset, so, no thong either. Because this is porn, so of course we all want to see her pussy.

Denise's corset is green, leaf coloured, and fabric not leather or rubber. It laces at the front to give her a very sexy hourglass profile, whilst the top part has half cups, out of which her enhanced D cups bloom, each clearly visible since the cup holds them in place but doesn't cover anything except the bottom.

"Gag first."
"Right." Giving Jordan a thumbs up, picking up a full harness ballgag and turning to me. "Ready?"
"Carry on." Stepping closer, standing still. Letting Denise work.

She's efficient, the Domme taking charge. Of me. Standing in front, slight frown of concentration, Denise offers up the red ball which I open wide for, bite down on. She leans in, reaching around, buckling each part of the harness in turn: around the sides, over my head, under the chin, moving my fake blonde hair as she does, making it not be a mess.

It's all tight, prehaps more so then is strictly necessary for the camera.

I won't complain.

"Listen." Near whispered as she checks her work over. "If I. Um." Brief flash of a smile. "Tight means tight. Okay?"
"Mmmffffpppp." Nod, a low gag muffled reply. She could've said this, whatever it is, before gagging me, allowed me to answer properly.

A power move on her part. Treating me, despite this being a shoot, my being a model, just like her. Treating my like a thing she owns.

Out of nowhere I'm back in Deborah's house. My psycho super Domme ex, a girl who used and abused my love of helplessness because she knew I'd always come back asking for more.

Because I am. A little bit. Bondage obsessed.

"Good." Stepping back with a nod, dropping hands off my gag. Turning to Jordan. "She's ready."
"Okay. Plymouth." Jordan points with one hand, flicking on the overhead lights with the other. "Up onto the bed please. Let's get this wrapped up."

The whole shoot is, surreal. My head isn't fully in the game anyway, some faraway part is on Sammy, replying yesterday on a never ending loop. Our flirt scattered talk, kissing. The weight of her pressed into me.

I'm not really here, in a mental sense. I'm here, aware of what's happening, playing along. But, upstairs I'm slightly fuddled to the point I keep forgetting it's a shoot. Half the time, because playing along requires me, really, to simply let myself be used, I'm convinced it's Deborah again, or still. That I'm back with her.

Her toy. Her plaything.

And then I look up, finding Denise grinning down instead.

It doesn't take her long to hogtie me. Wrists and elbows, a very intense chest harness that runs a figure eight around my F cups. Legs tied in four places from ankles to thighs, plus a crotchrope. Finally ankles joined to elbows, bending me into the unforgiving arch I knew was coming, the one my tingling nipples and wet pussy had been demanding.

As a final touch my big toes are tied to my gag. After which Deborah, lifting up my skirt, slaps my right buttcheek a half dozen times, each one a sting that makes me squirm and moan loudly. Running long nails down over the emerging red patch, tugging on my crotchrope, turning pain into pleasure. I can picture Deborah's grin as she walks away. Leaving me.

Looking up, I find Denise, out of shot now, abandoning me to struggle and moan awhile.

Jordan circles like a vulture, zooming in on gagged lips and rope buried pussy.

Across the room Denise watches me struggle as though it were all for her.

In my head Deborah grins.

Jordan gives the thumbs up, Denise levers herself off the wall, returning to play.

For what feels like forever, time stretching and bending, becoming something I can't measure, Denise walks me up to but never over that climax peak. She toys and teases, kissing my gagged lips whilst tugging on the rope pressing against my swollen throbbing clit.

Deborah spanks me some more, repeated hard and fast slaps, making me gasp, losing my breath. Buttcheek stinging like a neon sign, sharp nails dragged across them cranking the sensations up to eleven.

I squirm, moan. Deborah laughs.

Denise appears from around behind me, coming to slap and squeeze my breasts, to twist and pinch my nipples.

By the time I'm finally granted an orgasm my whole body's on fire. My nipples have been clamped. My pussy and butt, my breasts, every sensitive part of me has been slapped, had nails raked down and across it.

My scream, the release of climaxing, the rush flooding through me as Deborah lays beside me tugging furiously on my crotchrope, Denise pressing her breasts against mine, kissing my gagged lips. Sucking the life from me as my body locks rigid.

I'm back at the hotel before I mange to properly arrange my thoughts, separating out the truth, resigning Deborah once again to the past where I buried her.

Which is where she- definitely maybe I think yes no prehaps stop it Brooke get a fucking grip and remember why -belongs.

Three days later I'm home, back on Welsh soil. Home, my detached house on the outskirts of a tiny village, high fence around a sizeable plot of land and even a small barn like building beside the house. Cheap, because it's in Wales not England, and in the literal middle of nowhere.

Wales feels like enemy territory at times, can't say why, it just does. So, it's nice that from my front garden I can see the towering pillars of the Severn Bridge rising up over the treeline to the East.

It happens three weeks later.

I've been to see Daniel, a long ride on my custom chopper just for a barbecue, but, Daniel and his lady Shauna are, by this point, becoming something like old friends. Daniel runs StrangeRopes, for which prehaps the most fun shoots I've ever done have been for.

A long drive, but they offered to put me up after, save me a there and back in one day. But, turned out I wasn't really in a drinking mood, and still feeling alert, wanting the comfort of my own bed, my own morning routine, I elected to climb back onto the chopper for a post midnight ride home.

Almost running out of gas- oops -as I approached Bristol.

On a whim I head in, wanting to cruise the dark empty, lonely, city streets as opposed finding a motorway services. After all, I've got nothing but time.

The chopper bubbles and roars, loud in all this quiet, even through the helmets padding I can hear her, a hungry beast, never failing to raise a smile. The gang patch on my jacket, not just for show. The Three Kings are like a second family, like gaining entry into a secret club.

Passing an all night Starbucks, slow, spotting a half dozen sports bikes in a raked line outside, one of the young men, turning, brief locked gazes. A raised hand, I tip a salute back.

Waiting at lights, closer in to the centre, glancing left to discover the flash of white pulling up beside me has morphed into a police Volvo, sitting long and low, looking as fast as it no doubt is. The passenger side window rolls silently down, revealing a lady, the leaping yellow of her hi-vis jumping from the dark interior. I watch her eyeball my chopper, me. See her note the jacket on my back, the patch. Her eyes find mine through the tint of my lowered visor. She nods, once, unsmiling. A warning? I nod back, let them pull away first, giving up the road.

This time.

I pay for the gas on my card, slotted into the machine at the pump, unwilling to spoil the sense of inner peace by interacting with. Anyone.

Cruising, almost getting lost, zoning out. Just me and the chopper and the endless road, the occasional motorist: an obstacle to pass, or to follow awhile, a game of cat and mouse where nobody bothered to tell them squeak squeak.

Because of course, really, I'm the mouse. Because the mouse- outside of cartoons -loses, and losing means being caught. Tied. Gagged.

And I love being caught.

I spy a sign, pointing left, familiar road names and places listed. No longer semi lost I lean into the corner. It's time to go home.

Except.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

Back around, using the roundabout to effect a u-turn, slow. Looking, and, deep in conversation, cigarette- of course -in hand, she doesn't look back.

Fuck. Me.

Heart speeding up, I slow down. Stop. Kickstand down, lean the chopper and climb off. The ground sways beneath me like a ship at sea, it only feels like. Pulling off my helmet, licking suddenly dry lips.

What do I say?

I walk the thousand miles back from the bus stop to the grassed area, a small park, round pond surrounded by grass, scattered benches on the grass, around two of which nurses in light blue and pink scrubs are gathered like a flock of birds. Talking. Laughing. Sipping coffee or smoking.

She doesn't see me approaching, despite she's facing me, she doesn't look up. Others do, see me, notice me: a slim girl, large bust under a white tee pushing open a black leather biker jacket, tight blue jeans tucked into black army boots, black helmet in hand, black and grey hair tumbling messily around my shoulders.

They notice me, but don't know me, returning to the group. Talking. Drinking. Laughing.

What do I say? I stand, close but not invading anyone's personal space. Waiting. A small part of me unwilling to intrude, despite my really fucking good reason.

And. Finally. After it seems everyone else has glanced my way, looking then dismissing me as, someone, a stranger they need not worry over.

Finally. She looks up. A flicked glance, back to her colleague, talking.

Gaze like a knife flying back to me moments later, mouth opening, forming a perfect O of surprise.

She, says something, I can't hear what, she's too far and my heart is beating too loud. Receiving a couple of nods, someone pat's a wristwatch to scattered quiet laughter. She nods, steps back from the bench.

Crosses the infinite space from the bench to me, prehaps a dozen paces, a small, hopeful, smile growing as she does.

"Brooke?"
"Got to say." Smiling, feels like it, my grin, won't stop growing. I see hers widen in turn. "I thought you were at least a nine." Bringing a hand up into the space between us, seesaw gesture, faked thoughtful expression. "Maybe point five."

Grabbing my hand she reels me in, stepping forwards so that we collide. My helmet dropped to the grass, hands seeking out her butt, gripping even as I in turn am gripped, my butt squeezed, harsh bite of a smokers kiss on my tongue. I lap it up, go back in for more, feeling longing and want and passion, happiness that this, that random chance, has bought us together.

Somewhere I can hear scattered clapping, a couple of whistles. Some guy calling. "Get a room." To general laughter. Sammy, grinning into my lips, I can feel the adrenaline rush of emotion shaking through her.

She's happy. And so am I.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Wanted to say. I'm especially proud of the final third or quarter, Brooke driving through Bristol, finding Sammy. I wrote that section in one sitting, and love how it flows.

So.

Finished?

It doesn't have to be, it may not be.

I think I'll (possibly, probably) write something else next. But, if I can come up with enough bondage shoot ideas for Plymouth, enough interesting things for Brooke and Sammy to get up to as they date and grow closer.

I could continue.

Thanks everyone for reading.
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Post by GreyLord »

Kudos, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. So very well done. Whether you continue this tale or start another, I will be looking for your work.
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Post by slackywacky »

RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Thanks everyone for reading.
It was a pleasure reading Plymouth's stories. And whether or not you come back to this story, we'll be keeping an eye out for it.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Thank you both. Truthfully I love Plymouth too much not to come back, at some point.

A break first though, time I can spend brainstorming good shoot and so forth ideas for her. Time I'll spend on a different project.

Which I may already be writing.... :D :lol:
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

A great description of the sensations in the scene with Denise. Evocative. A bit outside of Plymouth's usual comfort zone, but I suppose that is expected given the nature of her work.

The bit with the note and the conversation before also helps change the tone of the scene too - her distraction mixes with her love of tight bondage for a bit of a surreal experience, and Deborah 'showing up' as Plymouth fell deeper into the role was a nice touch.
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Wanted to say. I'm especially proud of the final third or quarter, Brooke driving through Bristol, finding Sammy. I wrote that section in one sitting, and love how it flows.
When reading it stood out - in a good way!

A happy ending after all, although obviously also a very open-ended one.

As has already been said by others, I am sure whatever you come up with next will be interesting.
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Truthfully I love Plymouth too much not to come back, at some point.
Good to hear!
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Post by Fandango »

Congratulations. This saga is quite an accomplishment. If this is the last that we get to read of Plymouth, then I think you've left her in a great place. If you do explore new adventures for her at some point down the road...I'll be excited for those also.

It's good to hear that you're still working on new projects though. You're very talented. You've got a narrative style that's all your own, unique from any other that I see on this site.
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Post by Caesar73 »

GreyLord wrote: 1 year ago Kudos, @RopeBunny. So very well done. Whether you continue this tale or start another, I will be looking for your work.
I agree totally. You created a really fascinating character with Brooke!
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