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

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

005.

Chicago, a last minute addition to my American bondage tour. Tommy, or T, but interestingly never Tom, had emailed the literal day before I was due to fly out.

I rang him straight back, pointed out my tight, already set, schedule. I apologised. In response Tommy named a figure over twice what I'd normally start my own negotiations at.

We all, pornstars, have a set fee. Mine has gone up as my level of fame- trying to keep that ego in check but, all honesty, it has -has risen. That fee is a base rate, upon which I'll negotiate. Maybe you want to fuck me once I'm tied up, for the shoot of course, ha, well that costs more. Maybe it's a particularly tight or unforgiving scenario rope wise? That costs more too.

Or, maybe there's no sex, no nudity, shouldn't that tip my scale the other way?

It's a negotiation. I start up at X, my base fee, and we talk. Because you want to hire me, and, rope loving bondage slut aside, I want to be hired.

'Got to get paid B' as someone I used to love, used to say.

Nobody. Nobody. Has ever come in with a starting offer so high.

So.

I. Paused. More then a little stunned. Tommy waded in further, filling my silence with words. Outlining what he wanted from me.

I- because of the money yes, but because it all sounded fun too -caved, sacrificing a day to myself in Nevada, cancelling one train ticket, booking another.

"Do you pay every model this much?" Sat in the bank of Tommy's limo.

An actual limo.

Beside the man himself, riding in air conditioned tinted glass luxury from Chicago's train station to Tommy's mansion.

An actual mansion too.

"If I want them for the site badly enough." Grinning at me, looking comfortable, happy. Mirror shades, a lean tanned frame, greying hair and goatee though he's only fourty something.

"One of the perks of being rich."
"Ha." Shaking my head. "Got to be one of the weirdest ways to spend the family inheritance I ever heard of."
"But." Toasting his bottle of water against mine. "Not the stupidest."
"No." Smiling. "Nothing stupid about having fun."

Rope King, that's the name of his site. From not existing to one of the webs top bondage pay sites in just over a year, largely due to the amount of cash Tommy's willing to throw at it. Cash which guarantees him the best models- there have already been some dream match ups on his site, seven girl hogtieathon anyone -and some very well built sets. When the need arises.

Fourty whatever is probably too young to use the word orphan, but both Tommy's parents died three years ago in a car accident, leaving him not just rich- he'd already made a significant fortune trading stocks -but super rich. Because daddy traded stocks too, amongst other things, and as an only child Tommy inherited everything: the cash, the impressive property portfolio, even a couple of mid league sports teams.

What he did next is the stuff most bondage obsessives can only dream. Tommy took the cash, and with the safety net of owned, rented out, property providing a good monthly income, he retired from the nine to five rat race, and sank his money into porn.

All this I got from online articles, curiosity getting the better of me on the long train journey from New York.

"Thing is." Tommy's voice beside me, bringing me back to the world, I look at him, he smiles, tipping his water at me in salute. "I've not hired any foreign, non US, models so far. So."
"So," nodding, filling in the blanks, guessing, "you. Somehow. Found out I was crossing the pond?"

"Scrolling through the competition." Tommy smirks, not at me, at the idea of checking out other pay sites I'd guess. "Came across one had your pretty face plastered all over it." Hands up in front of him, towards me, splayed, framing my face. I grin, cocking my head slightly to one side.

Being cute.

"So I thought fuck it," a shrug, hands falling back to his lap, "if she's coming here anyway."
"Why not send a message and try." I finish for him, Tommy's nod the confirmation.

And me the lucky beneficiary, out of this small chain: Tommy's curiosity, my decision to add in time for myself on this trip. Because of those things not only do I get an unexpected additional large paycheck, I get additional rope fun too.

That's what we in the business call a win win situation.

It's an old mansion. Well maintained, both stone and windows look regularly washed, the lawn and grounds, the entrance gravel road, are all weed free and appear cared for. But it's an old building, like something you'd expect Batman as Bruce Wayne to live in. Gothic. A study in grey with tall windows and the occasional gargoyle or dragon perched high up, glaring down.

An older gentleman in a black suit- are all butlers British -takes our coats, having opened the front door as we'd approached, whilst a older lady- the butlers wife, prehaps, which would make sense -emerges from a doorway to the right just as Tommy's leading me upstairs, tea towel slung over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up, her polite but loud cough stopping him, us both, on the second step.

"Dinner. Tommy?"
"Dinner...." Looking from her to me, one finger tapping his lips. "What do you need to do after we're done, Plymouth?"
"Well." Mentally running through my revised timetable. I nod. "I've got a late train booked," shrugging, "rather then spend the night in a hotel. So."
"So." Tommy grins. "Prehaps dinner here as opposed some train station greasy burger?"
"Um."

"I could," the older lady, one eyebrow raised in amusement at her next words, "given you'll be awhile upstairs." Quirk of a smile. "Working. Prehaps manage to whip up an English roast?"

"A roast?" Tommy, still beside me, a grin spreading on his face because I am. Almost. Drooling at the thought. A little taste of home. "Well." I turn to look at him, asking the question silently.

"Sure." Nodding. "I can get my driver to run you to the station after." Patting me on the shoulder. "We'll make sure you aren't late Plymouth."

Taking this as confirmation the lady nods, smiles, turns and leaves.

We continue upstairs.

"You can change, dump your stuff, in here." Pushing open a door, revealing a sparse bedroom beyond: double bed without a duvet, huge dark wood wardrobe, an open door on the far wall leading through to an ensuite. "Okay?"
"Perfect." I nod, carrying my suitcase through, it's got wheels but I've carried it up the stairs already, forgot to put it down.

"One hour?"
"One hour." Suitcase on the bed, I turn to give Tommy a thumbs up. "I'll be ready."
"Great." Nodding, smiling. "Down the hall," pointing, I look, "door on the end, on the left. Come upstairs okay?"
"Got it."

I shower, dry and brush out my hair, but leave it loose and tumbling down my back. Minimal makeup: black around the eyes, blood red around the mouth. I dress as per Tommy's request to 'look like a goth chick' in keeping with my hair and ink covered body.

A black mesh bodysuit, full body coverage from neck to wrists to ankles, the gaps are fairly large though, each one wide enough I can slip my hand through. The all over net hugs my curves, feeling like a form of bondage in itself.

It's crotchless too, worn without a bra or thong.

Atop this I put on faded blue denim short shorts, a frayed hem on the legs. And a fitted black Pink Floyd tee, showing off a slash of mesh covered stomach.

No socks or shoes.

Dressed, ready, I take a moment to eye myself up in the wall mounted full length mirror. Turning left and right, checking.

Tommy does a lot of different things on Rope King, as with most pay sites, there are a lot of ways to show bondage, a lot of options: from stories with mocked up sets to simple shoots of the girl already tied, from girl on girl action to both girls tied and struggling.

Plenty of options. And all of them fun.

What Tommy does though, in addition to this, is livestream. Once a month, for a one time fee, people can log into a special part of the site, and watch a long, live, stream of Tommy and whatever model he's chosen. Talking. Doing bondage.

Today. Now. It's my turn.

And I've no idea, not a fucking clue, what's about to happen beyond a conversation we've had. Tommy basically naming about three dozen various types of tie, of gag, of toy, and me saying yes or no as to whether I'd allow them.

Within those parameters, anything could be about to happen.

So of course, making my way to Tommy, to the room he keeps set up for these streams. Of course I'm grinning like the rope obsessed idiot I am.
Last edited by RopeBunny 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
tickletied84
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 490
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: Scotland

Post by tickletied84 »

Sorry to hear you've not been well, hope you're feeling better now.

A good return, with lots of possibilities of how Brooke earns her money now!
User avatar
BlissfulMisery
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 277
Joined: 1 year ago

Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey,

I am glad you are back, and hope you are feeling much better now!

I like the buildup in this chapter; the general feeling of uncertainty (the good kind). I might have already said this before at some point, but arguably the anticipation is as much a vital part of the experience.

Wonder what Plymouth has gotten herself into... Much like she herself is.

I enjoyed the chapter very much!
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

tickletied84 wrote: 1 year ago A good return
BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago I enjoyed the chapter very much!
Thank you both.
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

006.

Nice pale blue fabric sofa.

"Are we up?"

In front of me a camera, flanked by two more at varying heights and angles, stare back, red lights a steady blink. On. Recording. Behind the cameras sit powerful lamps suspended from tall tripods, bathing me in an all white glare.

Apparently, so I've been told, anybody viewing the livestream will be able to switch, to choose, between four angles: the three mounted cameras, plus when he chooses to use it a fourth handheld for some close ups.

Of me.

Tied up.

Nice.

Beyond this setup a floor covered in wires, a desk, behind which Tommy sits, tapping away on a keyboard.

"Anybody?" Tap, tap. Glancing up at me, grinning and giving a thumbs up. I smile back. "Sound off people, let me know we're up."

Hanging from the ceiling on a pivot arm, turned to face me, seeming to hover above and to the right, out of the glare, a large flatscreen begins to fill with text. The members. Sounding off.

'Here'
'OMG, that Plymouth?????'
'And me'
'Me'
'Bonjour from France'
'Fuck!!! What!!!!???!!!'
'Here'
'Seeing this.......'
'Here'
'Got the stream'
'Online'
'All good'
'Plymouth is the mystery model????? Fuck me'

And so on, a cascade of messages in varying colours and fonts. Sometimes not even in English. Each message is tagged with a name, and each name represents cash in Tommy's bank. Each livestream is a one off special event, and therefore each needs to be purchased, for a one off fee.

The fee gains access to the feed, plus the chat function. It pays for a video too, something around ten to twenty minutes long. A compilation, according to Tommy, of my best bits from whatever we're about to do.

My smile becomes a grin. I wave at the camera from my spot sat dead centre on the sofa, uncross my legs and spread them. Slightly. Cross my arms under my chest, lifting my F cups. Lean back. Comfortable. Happy.

"Excellent." Tommy, dressed in dark blue jeans and a faded grey tee, some now ghost like image of palm trees on the front, wanders across the room, dropping down next to me on one of the corner cushions of this three seater. "Well." Giving his own wave, more of a raised hand then anything else. "Greetings to all. And. Yes." Giving me a playful sideways nudge. "I can now confirm our mystery guest is non other then Plymouth, all the way from England."

"So." One hand resting on my upper thigh, close enough to my crotch to make me warm, to set a tingle going in my denim shorts covered pussy. "For those of you new here, and for you, Plymouth." Tipping me a smile, I smile back, spreading my legs that little bit wider. Playing the game. "Let me briefly explain how this stream tends to work."

"We're going to tie Plymouth up." Patting my leg. "Something simple," quick squeeze of my thigh, hand resting back in place, "to begin with. Then." Removing his hand to stretch both arms out across the sofa back, though I can still feel the phantom heat of his touch. "We'll do like a kind of interview. Okay?"
"Sure." Nodding. "I'm game, but." Turning my head to look at Tommy. "Who gets to ask the questions?"
"Well." Using the arm that's stretched out behind me, pivoting the elbow so he can point up at the hanging screen.

An act which allows Tommy to rest his elbow on my shoulder.

"Usually everyone in chat, which." Tommy laughs, shakes his head. "I'll do my best to keep up with."

Tommy drops his forearm, all casual, but fooling nobody. His hand, of course, comes to rest just so, right atop my breast.

It's all part of the game. Part of what I've signed up for here. Flirting. Playing. Teasing. Tommy taking on the role of his members, enjoying me for their benefit. Binding me. Gagging me. Feeling me up so that they, watching, can imagine themselves doing the same.

So. I don't act shocked, don't push him away. I play the game too. I smile, at the camera's, at the members, approving of his/their contact.

Which Tommy breaks moments later, shifting, standing. Moving to an old chest placed, if I had to guess, just inside the angle of the right side camera.

"Ready," pulling out looped coils of brown rope, glancing up at me, "Plymouth?"
"I am."

Tommy doesn't attack me. I don't mean attack as in punch, as in assault.

I mean attack as in to tie up in an aggressive manner.

I've been tied up forcefully before, not against my will as such, more a case of the person binding me being someone who favoured a harsh, quick, and mostly full on style.

It was an ex. Well, kind of an ex. It was.

Complicated.

And we'll leave it at that.

But she tied me by way of yanking at everything, no thought given to my comfort. When she tied me you could tell ownership was being taken.

I kinda liked that.

But Tommy's ropework is gentle.

"Try to answer some questions." Kneeling down in front of me on one side of the sofa, looping rope around one ankle, binding that one ankle to the front corner leg. "Just." A pause, a shrug up at me. "Pick some stuff from the madness that is our chatroom, and answer as we go along."
"Right." I nod. Tommy moving, scooting across the floor to the other end of the sofa, making to bind my other ankle to the other front leg.

I look up, at the screen.

'Why the fake tits, not complaining, just, why?'
'Shame she isn't naked huh guys'
'What no hogtie'
'Love you Plymouth'
'Tits look great'
'Legs aren't quite wide enough wink wink'

"Okay." Smiling at the compliments, some more forward then others. "Damn but the chat scrolls fast."
"Yeah." Tommy, nodding whilst binding my ankle, glancing up. He shrugs, gets back to work.

"Well." Grabbing hold of my still tee covered breasts with both hands, giving them a bounce. "I used to have natural C's, and." Shrugging. "I was happy, you know. But." Flashing a grin, even as I pull my tee up, flashing my breasts, nothing but the wide black mesh of my skintight bodysuit to protect my modesty.

Which of course it doesn't.

Bursting out laughing at the sudden waterfall of

'Tits'
'Tits'
Boobs'
'Wow'
'Tits'

On the chat.

"Once I decided to do bondage porn, I wanted to do it this way." Covering my breasts back up, giving them a last bounce. "Fake tits, lots of ink. I just thought doing bondage like this would be more fun."
"And," Tommy, standing, brushing his jeans, "is it?"
"I think so."

As Tommy moves behind me, rope in hand, and begins to bind my wrists crossed together held over my head, I look back at the chat screen.

'Can't you take her top back off Tommy'
'Damn girl how much ink you got?'
'Blue hair last time I saw her'
'She looks hot'
'What was your first tie Plymouth?'

"Ah." Smiling as the question, already halfway down the page, brings back a memory now several years old. "My first tie."

"Believe it or not." Shrugging, because I know it's true, and don't particularly give a fuck whether anyone actually does believe me. "I didn't get tied up until my eighteenth birthday. I booked my first pro shoot with a pay site in England. Nothing fancy, no nudity. Just a jeans and tee hogtie. But." My smile widens as Tommy, my wrists tied, pulls them down behind the sofa, binding and securing them somehow. "After that first time I was hooked."

"All done." Coming back around in front of me, Tommy nods. "How's it feel?"
"Not bad." Wriggling, feeling not much movement. My legs spread wide, arms pulled back up and over, wrists secure to something behind. My body pinned in place. "It'll hold."
"Good." Walking away now, off camera, back towards his desk. "Time for some more questions then Plymouth. I'll pick some out, you just sit there looking pretty, and answer."
"I can do that." Grinning, shaking my bound body, shaking my tee clad F cups at the camera, at the members.

"Got any favourite tattoos?"
"Um." Looking down at myself, my left side, because my ink is purposefully non symmetrical. I open my mouth, close it. Deciding on the spur not to be completely honest.

"Well. The lighthouse on my upper leg, one of the first things I got. Plus just above my crotch I've got 'Here Be Dragons' written." I grin. "Which sometimes raises a smile."

"Cool." Through the forest of cameras and other tech I can just about see Tommy nod. I have another wriggle, another just for show attempt at testing bonds which I don't want to break out of, and am not supposed to break out of anyway.

Quite aside from the fact they feel nice and tightly knotted.

"What's your dream tie?"
"Fuck." Shaking my head, smiling. "All the easy questions huh."
"Yeah."
"Well." Think fast girl, just, pick one. "Right." I nod. "Thing is, I'm not. I mean, I don't tend to embarrass easily. So." Another nod, flexing my body up and out, pushing my F cups at the camera. "I'd love to do more outdoors stuff. Maybe. Um. Something public. Somehow." I shrug. "I don't know how, but, I'd love to be tied up more in front of strangers. Outside."

"You've done videos binding other girls, would you ever tie up a guy?"
"I." Frowning, because it's genuinely not something I've ever thought about, not something I've ever been asked to do, nor ever had the idea to do. "I don't know?" Which comes out as a question. I laugh. "I prefer to be tied, so, honestly, I'd always pick that over binding anyone else."

"Ha." Jerking my attention to the screen, I'd been eyeballing the camera's, giving them, the members, my best 'come here and fuck me' look. I see it, almost at the bottom of the page, and grin as Tommy asks the question.

"Are you single at the moment?"
"I actually am." Nodding, doing the best shrug the ropes will allow. "For now anyway."
"Here that guys. Girls." Amusement in Tommy's voice. "Form an orderly queue behind me."

He laughs, I do too.

"Okay. Last one."
"Last one." I nod, vaguely aware we've still got a ton of livestream time left though, so, what comes next? "Okay."
"Is Jester's Revenge really your site?"

"Ha." Grinning and shaking my head. "Fuck. Okay. Well. Um, yes." I nod. "But. Well. One day I'll get the fucker up and running, get some content. I just keep hitting. Um. Problems."

Like a semi psycho overly controlling ex who wanted to own me rather then date me.

To name just one.

"So one day we'll get to see it?"
"One day." I nod. One day, with luck and some effort on my part.

One day.

"Okay then." Coming back towards me, giving a thumbs up whilst still off camera. A signal, a question. I nod in answer, yes, I'm all good. "I think that's enough of that." Coming around the back of the sofa, hunkering down, reaching in to grab hold of my breasts, giving them both a teasing knead. "Are you ready for another tie Plymouth?"
"Mmmmm." Arching my back, only half for show, because being teased whilst in bondage does tend to get me off. I nod. "Sure Tommy. I'm up for more."
"Great." Letting me go, kneeling, I can feel him working on my wrist ropes. "Let's get you freed, then we can go again."
Caesar73
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 4719
Joined: 5 years ago

Post by Caesar73 »

I really loved that chapter how you capture the atmosphere, the situation: Plymouth getting asked questions, answering. To me, when I read this, it is as if I am watching that "interview" live! Well done!
Image
GreyLord
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 2251
Joined: 3 years ago
Location: Southern USA

Post by GreyLord »

[mention]Caesar73[/mention] said
Well done!
Well done, indeed.

I hope you are now well. If your writing is any indication, you must be splendid.
ImageA List of my stories:
An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
tickletied84
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 490
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: Scotland

Post by tickletied84 »

Fantastic! (as always)

Brought anyone who's not read the previous Plymouth stories back up to speed, and got that perfect mix of teasing, playfulness, bondage and erotica. And...she's only *just* tied!
User avatar
Fandango
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 240
Joined: 1 year ago
Location: Western United States

Post by Fandango »

Granted I've never been in a livestream like this, but the livestream format seems perfect for Brooke / Plymouth's cheeky and frenetic inner monologue. It's a perfect fit and I have a feeling that the upcoming parts are going to be a lot of fun. I hope Plymouth is enjoying America. We could use more people like her over here.

Tremendous work, as per usual.
User avatar
BlissfulMisery
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 277
Joined: 1 year ago

Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey,

As already mentioned by others (but bears repeating!), I think this chapter does a great job establishing the desired atmosphere. A different type of performance then what Plymouth is used to; creates a bit of ambiguity on how much of it is genuine response vs acting (well most of her actual verbal responses are genuine, but even then she is certainly put 'on the spot'.)

A good way to mix things up; very enjoyable!
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

Caesar73 wrote: 1 year ago To me, when I read this, it is as if I am watching that "interview" live!
That's great :D excellent.
GreyLord wrote: 1 year ago I hope you are now well.
I am. Mostly. Can't write if I'm ill, can't get into the zone, can't picture and imagine the tie, the struggle and fun.

Diving back in now though :D
Fandango wrote: 1 year ago Granted I've never been in a livestream like this
Like a lot of the porn stuff, the behind the scenes of Brooke's job, it's largely guesswork based on some stuff I've seen, and on how I think it could probably work.
tickletied84 wrote: 1 year ago Fantastic! (as always)

Brought anyone who's not read the previous Plymouth stories back up to speed
Yeah I guess it did :D thanks for commenting.
BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago Hey,

As already mentioned by others (but bears repeating!), I think this chapter does a great job establishing the desired atmosphere.
And thank you, I'm glad it's coming across well.

A ton of comments, thank you all. I shall endeavour to keep things running smoothly, to keep those chapters coming.
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

007.

"Put this on." Tommy, all business, handing freshly untied me a ballgag.

"No more Q and A?" Slight tease in my tone as I take the gag.

"No." Shaking his head, pushing the sofa off to the side, out of shot. It moves easily across the carpeted floor. Tommy pauses, points up at the ceiling hung flatscreen, the ever scrolling member chatroom text. "Besides, you want her gagged right guys?"

I look up too, gag dangling from one hand, growing smile on my face as I do my best to keep up with the quick fire cascade of messages.

'Gag time'
'Yes'
'Been waiting for this'
'Ballgags are the best'
'Yes'
'Yes'
'Blow us a kiss Plymouth'
'Fun times coming'
'Can't spell bondage without gag'
'Let's go'
'Gagged then bound'
'Yes'
'Looking good'

I blow the camera, all three of them, capturing slightly different front facing angles, a kiss. Teasing. Then gag myself.

It's a pretty standard ballgag, not huge although the red ball still manages to fill my mouth, and not small, which is to say that even as I'm buckling the black leather around my face I can, already, feel some small discomfort from having my mouth forced open.

Of course I strapped it on tightly, because that's what the customers, members, would want. It's want I want too. Bondage that's real. A properly tight gag, inescapable ropes.

Real. Not faked.

It's more fun that way.

"Good." Coming back, doing a half circuit of me, checking my gag buckle. "Happy Plymouth?"
"Mmmffffggggg." I nod, standing with arms by my side as Tommy comes to a stop beside me.

I wait, anticipation at what might be coming- a tie, of course it's a tie, but, what kind -building inside.

"Strip." Gesturing at me, pointing high, low. "Tee and shorts off."

Still a business like voice, but not harsh, no bark of command even though he is, as the employer, giving me commands.

I comply, tossing both items at the now out of shot sofa, leaving me wearing just the black mesh bodysuit, fist sized gaps in the neck to wrists to ankles netting, the whole one piece hugging my curves. Skintight.

"Excellent." Walking across to the wooden chest, still hinged open. "Go and stand against the post."
"Pppffffggg?" I look around, finding a post I hadn't noticed when I came into the room. A wooden floor to ceiling square post, sat right behind where the sofa was, so now front and centre for the cameras.

Clever.

Standing with my back to the rough wood, Tommy moves behind me. It's only after he begins binding me that I realise he isn't using rope.

Plastic digs into my wrists. Cable ties, I can hear the zipping whizz like sound as the first is tightened, pinning my wrists, my arms, behind me. Behind the post.

A second cable binds my elbows behind the post too, thrusting out my upper body and chest.

Tommy moves around, down, to my legs.

Four cables bind me from ankle to upper thigh, bracketing my knees, each one zipped to it's tightest notch, each one digging into my soft skin.

And then Tommy makes them all tighter.

He does this by securing a cable tie vertically around the centre of each one already binding me. When tightened these cinch the horizontal ties further, causing them to dig in more, to become more secure.

To make me more helpless.

"Gggmmmffffff pppffffffmmmmffff." I moan, eyes lidded, the combined pleasure and pain of the tight bondage washing over me, Tommy now using longer ties to pin my arms and legs to the post, looping each cable around both limbs and wood.

And then, longer ties still, perhaps even multiples joined together like a snake, as Tommy binds more of me to the post.

Waist.

Forehead.

Neck.

Shoulders.

Directly below my breasts.

"And how do we feel?"
"Fffffppppppppp ffffggggmmmmmm mmmmfffffggggg mmmmm." Horny as fuck actually. Drool, not the first one either, escapes from the side of my tightly gagged mouth as I moan, bubbling up from under the leather strap where it's digging into my lips. The trickle runs down my chin, dripping, landing on my breast, running down further to be lost within my deep F cup cleavage.

From behind me Tommy reaches around, one arm each side, cupping my breasts, running a thumb across the nipples.

"Gggppfffffmmmmmmmm." Pressing my butt into the wooden post, pushing my breasts out as best the tight plastic ties will allow. Eyes closed, becoming lost in the moment.

Which seems to stretch, to go on. Even when Tommy let's go, steps away, moving, I'm still lost.

Too lost to properly register the cable ties being wrapped and tightened around each breast, at the base, squeezing.

Too lost to really feel the wooden pegs Tommy attaches to each swollen erect nipple, each contact is a brief stab of pain, quickly subsiding to a dull throb, just another part of my all over arousal. The tight cables digging in, the tight gag making me drool.

The sudden buzzing at my clit.

Wait.

Buzzing.

Opening my eyes, groggy but not from sleep. Everything feels slow as though my brain, my consciousness, were having to wade through soup.

Feels like my whole body is buzzing. I'm on fire, from pinched nipples to gagged lips. But, looking down, I find a wand vibrator attached to something like a pivoting microphone stand, angled and positioned so the wand tip is pressed and nestled against my clit.

Tommy, out of shot now, seeing my gaze travel upwards, finding him, tips me a salute, retreats back to his desk.

Retrieves his fourth camera. His close up camera.

Comes back.

So.

Whilst I moan. Whilst I gasp and beg and plead for the pegs biting my nipples to be removed.

They aren't.

Whilst I squirm, struggle, wriggle. Whilst my limbs turn numb from lack of blood flow, my breasts becoming red becoming purple. Becoming yet more tender still.

Whilst the pain and pleasure surges one way, back, and again. The tingle from my pussy mixing with that same unstoppable feeling of growing arousal coming from my nipples.

Whilst I drool everywhere, made worse each time I gasp or plead, trying to talk. Nipple clamps, any kind of pain thrown into the bondage mix, is still something I do rarely. I am unused to the pain, have not really experienced what that does, how that feels, when mixed into the pleasure of being tightly bound and teased.

I am, was not prepared, for how much that added sensation would ramp up my arousal.

Three orgasms. Three. And each one a real scream fest. Body locking rigid, voice climbing from moaning to pleading to an ecstacy filled barrage of unintelligible noise. A scream.

And all the while Tommy circles me like a vulture, picking off the tastiest cuts of my up and down climb through arousal and pain, capturing my decent into lost control for the members.

A front row seat for each of them. Plymouth, clamped nipples, vibed clit, gagged lips and tightly bound body. Losing her shit, screaming like the slut I am.

And, just to make sure they get their money's worth. Having removed the pegs clamped on my nipples, having switched off and pulled the vibe away, out of shot. Tommy removes my gag, but leaves me cable tied to the post, leaves the cameras running for a further quarter hour, letting everyone see me float back down to planet earth, breath slowing, evening out, licking my lips, coughing.

Swearing a couple of times.

Before finally, eyes open, I give the cameras, the members, a grin, a wink.

"Fuck but that was fun." I breathe out, a shaky laugh escaping my throat at the craziness I've just gone through. Across the room, sat behind his computer, Tommy catches my eye. Waves.

Right.

"Take care everyone." I blow the members a kiss, understanding that I'm to say goodbye. "Drive safe, stay happy. Be well."

"And you're okay," looking at me- back in sensible jeans and a vest top, I'm even wearing a bra -across the table, fork full of roast potato halfway to his mouth, "right?"
"Sure." Attacking my fifth, and unfortunately last, perfectly homemade yorkshire pudding. I look up, meet Tommy's for some reason worried gaze, smile to show I really am. "I'm fine, Tommy." Holding up my wrist, glancing at just one of many still quite deep and semi raw looking marks dotting my body. All the places the plastic ties dug in. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just." A shrug, running a hand through his hair. "I worried I'd gone too far."
"Yeah?" Quick bubble of laughter. Tommy frowns. I shut up. Cough, run a hand through my own hair and smile at him again. "Well. Honestly. You didn't, I'm fine."

"But." Looking down, back up. He's clearly got something to say, some point. I wait.

"You were begging."
"I was."
"A lot."
"Yeah." Smiling, which earns me another frown, which makes me laugh yet again.

"Sorry." Reigning myself in, trying to. "Look. Tommy. I mean." Shrugging, I mean, he is a bondage producer, he has shot videos before, so. Hasn't he? "Haven't you had a tied up girl beg and moan before?"
"Just." Drumming his fingers on the table, looking down at them, stopping. "Well. I guess." Huffing out a breath. "I've just never had a girl sound so into it."

Ah.

"Right." I nod. What can I say? Without going off on a long winded explanation, without telling this guy my life story, explaining my dark desires. What can I say?

"It's just." Holding out my arms, laid flat on the table so we can both see my matching deep marks at wrist and elbow. "Yes, it was painful." I shrug. "Of course. And it," my still throbbing nipples, "hurt like fuck towards the end. But." Holding up a finger to stop Tommy, mouth open, ready to apologise all over again or something.

"But. It was fun." I grin. Nod. "It was, really, fucking, fun."
"So." Scratching a hand through his hair again. "You don't mind the pain?"
"I get lost." Casting myself back all of an hour, and back further still. Tie upon tie upon tie, all the crazy shit I've done. "When I'm tied, it's like nothing else matters. Tight bondage is the ultimate thrill ride. Better then drugs." I laugh. "Better then sex. Better even then my chopper."

"Chopper?"
"My custom bike." Waving the point away. "When I'm riding, I."
"Riding the chopper?"
"Um." Thrown for a moment, train of thought plunging off a cliff.

"You. I." Arms still on the table I link my hands, pressing left arm against right. "When I'm in bondage, riding that helpless high. Nothing else matters, it all. The pain and shit. It's all a part of what makes the rush so big. And. After." I shrug, smile a small smile, not sad, but not a grin. "When I'm coming back down, when the pain does start to hit. It isn't ever enough that I'd want to quit."

"Right." Frowning. I don't think he gets it. I'm not sure you can, completely, get it, not unless you're one of the crazy people who actually enjoys riding. But, luckily, Tommy doesn't ask for any more clarification, which I'm not sure I could give anyway.

We finish our dinner. Delicious. After which Tommy's driver gets me to the station with time to spare.

Time to move on.
GreyLord
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 2251
Joined: 3 years ago
Location: Southern USA

Post by GreyLord »

The dialog was absolutely wonderful, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. In a way, I am sorry to see Plymouth moving on. I thought she and Tommy had long term possibilities. Looking forward to whatever you give us next.
ImageA List of my stories:
An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

GreyLord wrote: 1 year ago I thought she and Tommy had long term possibilities.
There's more I could've done, a second shoot, something off camera even.

But I'm trying to keep the story moving. There are other already planned spots where Brooke will do more then just one shoot before leaving, so as much as I liked Tommy too I didn't want to stretch this one out.

Thanks for commenting.
User avatar
BlissfulMisery
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 277
Joined: 1 year ago

Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey,

Well Plymouth certainly went on a ride. A great description of the paradoxical 'push and pull' of such a situation.

I also liked the conversation, because it did a good job of capturing how hard it is to describe such things to someone who 'does not get it'. How can something that would normally feel bad feel so good in a specific context or situation?

Well, there is a boring 'logical' answer to be had there (even if only a partial one), but that is the mystery... Which is perhaps part of the attraction.

On another note, the little details during the conversation really add to it:
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Drumming his fingers on the table, looking down at them, stopping.
Is a good example.

As usual, a great chapter.
Caesar73
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 4719
Joined: 5 years ago

Post by Caesar73 »

That was quite the ride - your style of writing matches - in my opinion - the Character Plymouth perfectly!
Image
tickletied84
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 490
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: Scotland

Post by tickletied84 »

Brilliant - I give this scene - 5 out of 5 (Yorkshire puddings) :lol: :lol:
User avatar
Switchgirl
Forum Contributer
Forum Contributer
Posts: 36
Joined: 1 year ago

Post by Switchgirl »

Another superb chapter. You’re one of my favourite authors on here!
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago I also liked the conversation, because it did a good job of capturing how hard it is to describe such things to someone who 'does not get it'. How can something that would normally feel bad feel so good in a specific context or situation?
Took me awhile, several goes, to get that how I wanted it. Harder then I thought to put into words given I'm personally not into the pain side at all, tight ropes aside anyway.
Caesar73 wrote: 1 year ago your style of writing matches - in my opinion - the Character Plymouth perfectly!
Thanks. I like my/this style, and as I've said previously I feel a connection to Plymouth, which probably makes her easier to write.
tickletied84 wrote: 1 year ago Brilliant - I give this scene - 5 out of 5 (Yorkshire puddings) :lol: :lol:
:lol:
Switchgirl wrote: 1 year ago Another superb chapter. You’re one of my favourite authors on here!
Thank you, made me smile.
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

008.

Train, or plane. Why aren't I flying?

It'd be quicker, and when I researched the cost there wasn't much in it. So why?

Quicker. That's the key word here. I don't need to be quick. This is, at least in part, a me holiday. A chance to relax, see the sights.

Can't see those very well above cloud level.

So. It's the train that takes me from Chicago to Las Vegas, in Nevada. Where I no longer have any me time, because I did the livestream with Tommy, which was totally worth the sacrifice. It just means I'm only here to work.

I'll make up for that, for two city stops that were all work and no play, when I get to San Francisco.

Promise.

Honestly though, it's probably a good thing I've got no time. Sure, there's more to do in Vegas then just gamble, but. Well. Probably best I'm not putting temptation right there.

From the Station a bus takes me out into the desert, a sight in itself. A landscape I've never seen. Beautiful in its way.

My stop is a gas station, a truckers rest area with pumps and a greasy cafe. The literal middle of nowhere. Stepping down and out, wave of heat hitting me full in the face, making me gasp, I spy my ride parked nose in opposite where the bus has stopped. An impossibly tall pickup truck, jacked up beyond all reason, faded blue paintwork caked in dust and dirt.

And as I approach, out climbs Brad. I assume, followed swiftly by his dog, charging across the space between us, then dancing and running happy yapping circles around me as I close the distance.

A pickup truck, a dog. Sudden flood of memory, of Zak and his border collie Daisy, of a farmhouse out in the sticks.

Bondage shoots half a world away, several years in my past.

"Brad?"
"Hey Plymouth." Tipping me a nod. "See you and Hunter are already on first name terms."
"That we are." Stopping, now I'm at the truck and away from moving traffic, hunkering down to give Hunter, tiny little dachshund with clearly enough energy for a dog three times his size, some attention. "He's cute."
"Knows it too." Smiling down at his dog. "Which is the whole problem."

"Come on." Opening his door, having to pick Hunter up, because there's no way such a small dog can leap that high, Brad frowns up at the sky. "Best we get a move on," a nod, up at the sun, "since we're on the clock and all."
"Right." Opening the passenger door, having slung my wheeled case in the back. "We're okay though?"
"Sure." Firing up the engine, a throaty V8 roar that's pure America, nothing on my side of the pond sounds that good unless you spend a ton of cash. "We're good."

On the clock. Because Brad has, had, a special shoot planned. One he inserted me into, eager to make use of the opportunity to have me, an English bondage model, on his site.

"You got it built then?"
"We did." Nodding, not taking his eyes off the road. "Only just," a flashed grin, "but it's all ready and waiting for you."
"And Alicia doesn't mind?" Asking the thing that's been troubling me. I'm happy to be here, happy for the work, for the interesting nature of the shoot, but I'd hate to be upsetting another model in the process.

Alicia. A girl I've never met, never heard of. I'd hate if she hated me, for coming in and, potentially, stealing some of her limelight.

"Nah." Brad shakes his head. "She's cool." Brief flick of his gaze towards me. "She's looking forward to meeting you."
"She said that?" Doubt, unable to shake this feeling that I'm about to have daggers stared at me for the next couple of hours. Hoping not, but, it's what I feel.

"Yeah." Brad actually laughs. "Alicia's cool, Plymouth. You'll see."

And. Luckily. She is.

"Plymouth." Shouted, and it's almost a replay of Hunter, almost exactly like getting off the bus. Alicia, bounding, bouncing, towards me as I climb down from the truck.

Bouncing. We could almost be twins.

A skinny eight like me, though prehaps lacking the muscle tone on my limbs and belly. Long curling hair, like mine, only instead of a black and grey ash cloud Alicia's locks are candy blue. Tribal black inkwork swirls and spikes its way up her right arm and shoulder, down onto her right breast. Which is an E cup, a very round and pert enhanced looking E cup.

I've no sooner closed the trucks door, turned back around having raised a hand in greeting at her shout, when Alicia collides with me.

And kisses me, pulling me into a hug even as her lips lock over mine, her tongue darting out, charging to attack my still closed mouth, which opens in a mixture of shock and surprise.

Even whilst I see, at the corner of my vision, Brad walking away, more smirking then smiling, tapping his watch, I'm kissing her back. Like an automatic reflex.

"Alicia." Finally, it feels like, managing to pull away, to put a little distance between us. "Hi."
"You made it." Grinning at me, she's young, early twenties easily, maybe twenty. Skin all soft and firm, nipples stabbing at the thin cotton of her white tee, legs for days and her wide mouth split into a cute smile. A mouth I could.

Stop it Brooke. Focus on the shoot.

"I'm here." Nodding agreement. "And," take a breath, take the plunge, "you're sure it's okay for me to be here?"
"Of course." Grinning some more, linking her arm through mine. "Come on, we're on-"
"-The clock." I finish for her, collecting my suitcase, the two of us setting off after Brad whilst Hunter, showing no signs of slowing down despite the heat, dances and charges a loose figure eight path between the three of us.

And. What I feel in my gut. It, bizarrely, feels like I've just met a fan?

The heat is overwhelming. Oppressive. Neither Alica, deeply tanned skin hinting at a life lived in hot places, nor Brad, a local, seem in any way put out. But I'm an English girl, born and raised on a diet of rain, and cold winds, and when it is sunny, for all of two months, it still never feels this hot.

Wearing only faded blue denim shorts and a grey vest top I am already sweating.

Thank fuck the sun's going down.

Which is the point, and why time is critical.

This place isn't Brad's, though he lives nearby. Some shoots do happen at his house, I learned as we talked on the ride over, but he has friends he can call on too, should he for instance want to shoot in an office or a pub. Or, as is the case today, someplace outdoors that's safe from prying eyes.

Like an abandoned airfield.

An old hanger, rusted roof with two missing panels, no door, and grime covered windows. But burned out control tower aside it's the only structure here. Alicia and me change inside under the shadow of a hulking old commercial airliner, something from the fifties or sixties with a propeller not jet engines slung under each wing.

I say change, but it's a naked shoot, so what we do is strip, then shrug on short silk bathrobes, tie the belts loosely closed, and slip back into our shoes.

And I'm definitely getting 'fuck me' vibes off Alicia. More then simple friendliness, which I could just about wave that full on welcome kiss as being. No. More then just being a fan, of me, I think she actually wants to play.

With me.

Let me submit some evidence: a huge hanger and yet she chose to change, to set up camp, within touching distance of me. Plus I've caught her openly staring at me, my chest, my body, several times.

And when we're both ready to head to the shoot, she, again, links her arm through mine. Pressing herself in close, forcing her arm up against the swell of my F cup.

I swear. It isn't my imagination. This cute no shame girl wants me.

I decide to let her come, to see how this all plays out if I don't throw myself at her back, but don't put out negative vibes either.

Let's see how she plays this.

Back outside the sun hasn't set, but it is falling, finally taking the days heat with it.

"Glad you could join us ladies." Brad, grinning to show he doesnt mean it, is teasing. Surely he can see it too, Alicia all but throwing herself at me. "Ready?"
"All set." Nodding, casting off my robe, stepping out of my shoes. "Looks impressive Brad."
"Thanks Plymouth."
"I'm good to go too." Alicia, naked too, giving Brad a thumbs up. "Where do you want me?"
"This one." Patting wood. "And, Plymouth...."
"Beside." Tipping a salute. "Got it."

Side by side, two giant crosses, each one over ten feet. Both have been buried deep into the dirt for stability, both face the setting sun, standing prehaps six foot apart.

Brad has help, so whilst he takes care of Alicia some middle aged guy called Tim, polite, well muscled, brown hair tied into a pony tail and tucked through the gap of his Chevrolet baseball cap at the back, binds me in place to match her.

A small ladder leans against the vertical post of the cross, which I stand on, back against the warm smooth dark wood. Brad's friend, and Brad, need ladders to bind us in place at times, starting with some super complicated ropework around my breasts. Something that crisscrosses and separates my globe like F cups, tracing over the shoulder and under the armpits, looping around where the horizontal part of the cross meets the vertical, pinning me to the wood, pinning me in place.

Almost, and the thought makes me smile, as though the cross were a backpack I'm wearing.

Each of my wrists are bound, stretched out along the horizontal post, whilst my ankles are bound together, then to the post. My body is thusly splayed out, and glancing across I can just about see Alicia, a perfect mirror.

And, damn but she looks sexy. Fuckable. Easily a body I could walk down into the depths of tight bondage, bind and gag that cute little ass, fuck her six ways to Sunday. And.

Brooke. Stop it. Later.

Maybe.

Tim ballgags me, rearranging my hair as best he can afterwards, which is a strange thing to have someone do whilst you're trussed in place. As a final touch we're both lathered all over with anti sun lotion, because even whilst descending it's still hot as hell in that unforgiving glare, and I am, despite my own outdoor working girl tan, still prehaps too pale to guarantee safety considering how long I'll be stuck up here.

Alicia too. Yes, she's darker then me by several degrees, so her chances of burning are likely zero. But it pays not to take chances.

And besides, Brad had explained to me over the phone when we negotiated all this, the lotion will add a nice shine to our skin, like an all over sweat.

I could positively hear his grin down the line. Pervert.

The ladders are removed. Slowly. I have a brief moment of panic, feeling my body drop, settle, knowing I can't prevent a fall. But it's fine, the well tied harness holds me in place, rope digging into my armpit as it takes the weight of me, but the discomfort is minimal.

Alicia and me are now pinned in place, off the ground.

With Tim keeping out of the way, watching but no longer helping, Brad gets to work shooting us. There's a camera already set up, which he flicks on, set quite far back so it captures both crosses, almost a panoramic view.

Brad intends to, does, film us for close to two hours. A long time to be bound to a wooden cross in the sun, which slowly sinks whilst he films, the shadow's behind us, our shadow's, growing steadily longer.

There's no script. There's no need. Being bound for such a long time in that glare you can't not struggle, and moan, as sweat breaks out all over you, running from neck down into cleavage down into crotch.

Brad takes a whole ton of photos, and plenty of close up film too, moving in on first Alicia, then me, repeating this several times.

The end result will be a twenty plus minute video of us tied to the cross, helpless as the sun sets, plus the pick of Brad's photos.

"There's your bus."
"Yeah." Leaning forwards to pat Brad on the shoulder, to give Hunter, sat on the other front seat, a final stroke. "Thanks for the lift Brad."
"No problem." Nodding, moving his hand to replace mine, stroking Hunter. "Travel safe girls."

Girls. Because, surprise, but not really, because I'm on to her, Alicia just so happens to need the same bus as me.

I need the bus because it'll take me back to Vegas, where I've got a hotel- not a fancy one, nothing attached or even close to any of the casinos -booked, for tonight. Where does Alicia even live?

No fucking way she's staying in the same hotel as me, that would be kinda bordering on stalker territory.

I'm sweaty, but not in the least bit tired. Sticky from all that sun cream. What I mostly am is horny, that post bondage baseline frustration is ticking over inside, that I've been tied up, which gets me going, but it wasn't a shoot that called for any kind of interaction. Nobody touched me, let alone fucked me.

So I've got an itch to stratch.

Which is why, finding a seat towards the back, suitcase stowed in the luggage hold, I don't protest when Alicia first slides in beside me, then within five minutes of the bus moving leans her head on my shoulder, wraps her arm around my waist, pressing herself into my side.

Instead, screw it, I roll with it. She wants me, she can have me. Let's see whether she can handle me though.

Clearly my decision comes as a slight shock to her.

I grin, inside, feeling Alicia briefly stiffen as I casually take hold of her legs, lifting and turning them, angling her body so she's now semi side on to me, her legs draped over and across mine, our breasts touching, my arm now around her shoulders, long nailed finger tracing idle patterns across her shoulder blades.

She rallies though. Barrelling down the dark road, quiet hum of the engine and scattered occasional conversation from those dozen other taken seats, after a short while I feel Alicia move. Slowly, creeping, her hand moves upwards from my waist, slipping inside my pink tee, climbing higher still, finding my bra, trailing her own nails across the lace fabric to my cleavage. Where she stops, hand now resting, fingers splayed, on my right breast, cupping it.

My turn. Damned if I know the rules to this game, but, she's just moved, so now I'll respond in kind.

Like her in this position I only have one free hand. Alicia's can only access my front, my hand is around the back.

Which I walk down her spine, satisfied by the shiver I feel her make as my fingers sink lower, down into her black spandex shorts. I begin rubbing up and down her buttcrack with one extended finger, tracing a line from just behind her pussy up to Alicia's waist, and back, being sure to linger around the sensitive skin of her butthole every fourth or fifth pass.

It doesn't take long for her hand to slip inside my bra.

Shortly after, I couldn't say who starts it, we're kissing. Long slow kisses, full of promise.

Going to fuck her so hard when we get to my hotel.
GreyLord
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 2251
Joined: 3 years ago
Location: Southern USA

Post by GreyLord »

It just keeps getting better and better, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. Looking forward to reading more about Alicia.
ImageA List of my stories:
An Unlikely Savior Completed
Spy Task Force Completed
Tale of an Archer Completed
The Bandit Scout on Newhome updated 05/30/23
User avatar
slackywacky
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 2596
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: Canada

Post by slackywacky »

The adventures of Plymouth, coming to a XXX theater near you soon, are a pleasure to read. It makes me wonder how much of Plymouth is you ;)
No need to answer that one, just wondering, as they say a writer leaves her/his mark on the stories she/he creates.

Looking forward to more from Vegas...
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt

My active stories: Updated story catalog: All my stories
User avatar
BlissfulMisery
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 277
Joined: 1 year ago

Post by BlissfulMisery »

Well, the crazy trip continues.

Liked the callback to her very first shoot/tie-up.

Seems Plymouth has met a kindred spirit, in more ways then one.
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Long slow kisses, full of promise.
Full of promise seems about right to describe whatever might follow on the rest of this journey through the United States.
User avatar
RopeBunny
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1278
Joined: 5 years ago
Location: England.

Post by RopeBunny »

slackywacky wrote: 1 year ago It makes me wonder how much of Plymouth is you ;)
Not as much as I'd like :lol:

And yet, more so then anyone else I've written, I do tend to see Plymouth through my eyes. Her way of thinking, a fair chunk of what she loves (her chopper, working outdoors, her bondage tastes) are my loves.

Maybe I'm Brooke, and Plymouth is the me I wish I could be :lol:

Thanks for the comments, more Vegas coming soon.
Caesar73
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 4719
Joined: 5 years ago

Post by Caesar73 »

GreyLord wrote: 1 year ago It just keeps getting better and better, @RopeBunny. Looking forward to reading more about Alicia.
Me too :) Another highly enjoyable Chapter!
Image
Post Reply Previous topicNext topic