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

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.
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Plymouth. (MF+/F+) *NEW 15/02 NEW* (Finished...?)

Post by RopeBunny »

And. This time, I'll try not to dive too far down any dark rabbit holes.
Last edited by RopeBunny 1 year ago, edited 21 times in total.
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Post by RopeBunny »

[mention]Caesar73[/mention] [mention]tickletied84[/mention] [mention]Switchgirl[/mention] [mention]TightsBound[/mention]
[mention]BlissfulMisery[/mention] [mention]GreyLord[/mention] [mention]slackywacky[/mention] [mention]Fandango[/mention]

Morning all. I've searched through 'Jester's Revenge' my previous Plymouth story, and you've all commented at least one time there. Shan't be doing these @ for every chapter, not my style or way.

But I'll do it this once, so you know there's a new story starting.

New readers, new to Plymouth or to me and my stories, are of course welcome too. I shall try to write in explanations as we go, to describe and explain things already covered in previous Plymouth tales. Save any of you having to go back to find stuff out.

So then.

Enjoy.

And thanks, as always, for joining me.

R Bunny x
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Post by RopeBunny »

001.

"And you're travelling for...?"
"Business." Nothing I can do to stop the smile leaking out. "Mostly."
"Business." Gaze flicking down to the form pinned to his clipboard, paperwork I already filled out, now being checked through presumably to ensure I'm not trying to hide anything.

My suitcase, sat on the counter between us, wide open, full of clothing you, mostly, could not wear outdoors without risking arrest for indecent exposure.

His gaze flicks up, back to me. And he frowns. Prehaps I'm supposed to be embarrassed at having my skimpy outfits, poorly concealed he likely thinks underneath more sensible jeans and tops, discovered.

Nope.

"Business." Repeating the word, nodding. "I work in the adult industry."
"Right."
"Mostly bondage stuff." Which is more then he needs to know, but, I'm in a good mood, so can't resist being playful. "Getting tied up." Putting my wrists together, helpfully in my opinion, in front of me, wriggling my body, pretending to struggle. "Sometimes," I shrug, grin, "fucked."

"Right." Another mark on my sheet, hurriedly looking back down after I look up, catch his gaze locked onto my bouncing chest. A nod as he zips up my case. "Thank you. Miss...."
"Brooke." A shrug. "Or Plymouth." I wink, flirting because it's fun. "I'm easy."
"Yes. Um. Well." Colour rising on his cheeks, very deliberately making eye contact, his gaze straying nowhere else. "Okay....."
"Brooke."
"Brooke." Stamping my passport, holding it out. "Welcome to the US."

Couldn't bring any of my equipment, aside from a single camera, plus collapsing tripod, plus my laptop of course. But I couldn't bring rope with me, or my favourite ballgag. Stuff like that could be. Could be, deemed weapons.

So I've been told.

All I've packed are clothes. One fair sized wheeled suitcase plus a messenger bag carry on.

Travelling light, although at some point I'll have to buy rope, or zip ties, or belts. Or, you know, all of the above.

But, travelling light, one case and one bag, because I'll be moving around, touring the US.

Being a busy little bondage porn star.

Looking the part too. Breasts pumped up to cannon sized F's, and my skinny but toned size eight frame is scattered with ink, mostly on my left side: floating lighthouse on the upper leg, chained mermaid on the arm, skeletal wings across my shoulders and a busty anime girl, complete with lowered lance, riding a motorbike across my lower back like a medieval knight. All that and more, and almost all in shades of black.

Like my hair. It's another girls style, one I stole. Copied. Because it looks awesome and suits my goth look, complete with gunmetal snakebite lower lip piercings. Black shot through with grey and white, it tumbles down my back like ash from a volcano.

Work. My other work, my normal job at a plant nursery- because getting tied up doesn't always pay enough to pay the bills -is taken care of. It's the slow season, so Edward, the boss, explained. Everything being grown is in the ground, but not yet ready for any intensive human assistance. So he was more then happy to allow me this extended leave, letting me lump almost a year's worth into one block.

My house. Will be fine. I've got no pets, and my entire property is both out in the sticks, on the outskirts of a tiny village, which tends to be safer from burglary and other crime, plus my custom chopper, my pride and joy, because I'm a biker girl, is safely locked out of sight in the shed.

I've done this before, touring a foreign- I'm British -country largely for bondage purposes. Last time it was Japan. Last time I had company, a girlfriend who just happened- what luck, ha -to be a porn star too.

Fun times, happy memories.

But this time it's just me. No significant other, either beside me in the taxi or waiting back across the pond.

I'm single, and in the mood for fun.

It's taken time to plan all this, several weeks of email chains and late night- because of the time difference -phone calls. Careful booking of plane and train tickets, of hotels as I worked out the best and most efficient- from a how can I get to play with the most US bondage porn stars point of view -way of doing this.

Starting in New York, crossing North America, heading west to the coast and San Francisco, before coming back east to end it all in Florida and a little me time at Disney World.

The whole trip in fact is going to be a planned mix of work and me time. I should, if all goes to plan, easily earn more then what it's costing me to travel, but I want to see some of the sights too along the way.

Starting here.

New York.

I know the jet lag will catch me up, I'm living on borrowed time, but I'm not tired yet, am still buzzing from the sheer thrill of being here. So.

Check in. Dump bags in my room. And out we. I. Go.

I'm due to work tomorrow, have already exchanged messages with Constance to check we're still on. We are. Even if I don't crash until midnight I'll be rested and ready by the afternoon when she and Jack, her husband, are due to arrive.

So much to see in this one place, this city to beat all cities. So much to see and so little time.

"Damn." Gaze drifting up. And up, as in front of me the Empire State rises, spire tip reaching for the sky. How long would I have to live here to become accustomed to all this sheer height I idly wonder, making my way inside. How many months before the tall buildings ceased appearing to loom over me, like Lords of all they survey?

I join a tour, but only half listen, instead all my attention is on what I can see. The architecture, and artwork, decades of history and a style long gone. Preserved.

Up on the roof I take my photos, the obligatory selfie from on high, pulling various poses, making sure my Godzilla printed tee is on show, smiling at the joke.

I'm not team Kong.

Tiredness crashes in on me halfway through dinner: a hotdog, piled high with an impressive amount of extras such as pulled pork, onions, and cheese, that I'm sat on a bench close by the food truck I bought it from. Eating. Enjoying the bustle of people and traffic all around. I yawn a second time, arms stretched out wide, nod, stand.

Time to go.

No shower, I've got all morning to tidy myself up, to prepare for work. Instead I strip, clothes falling, forming a messy line from door to bed until naked I climb in under the soft duvet.

Drifting off.
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Post by Caesar73 »

I love this chapter :) Imho your style matches Brookes personality perfectly. When I read this chapter it is almost as if looking in Brooke´s mind! Nicely done! And I am looking forward on which Journey you will send Brooke this time :)
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Post by GreyLord »

Hi [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. You are off to a good start. I hope, and I am sure the vast majority of your readers will join me, that you will find your new Plymouth adventure a happier experience.
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Post by Switchgirl »

Shes back!

Great start - what can Brooke get up to in the US? :D
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Post by tickletied84 »

Lovely start, glad that Brooke still has that mix of cheekily embarrassing security guards, and then the innocence of looking up at the (to us Brits!) huge American buildings.

Looking forward to where you take it next.
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Post by Rdo4y8 »

Another chapter in Plymouth’s journey is always a welcome addition. Excited to see where this goes.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey,

Good to see a continuation of Brooke/Plymouth's tale.

Well, not much going on so far, mostly setting the stage. But there is plenty of promise for all kinds of shenanigans in the near future.

The conversation with the security guard was definitely very 'Plymouth'. No shame at all.

As you said, much more lighthearted so far.
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Post by slackywacky »

I love the fact Plymouth is back! YEAH! Your writing style is different from most, and I do not say that in a bad way. I like it.
Looking forward where this tale will lead us.

I will tell Jack and Elsa to look out for Plymouth :lol:
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Thanks for all the positive comments.

Not much of a first chapter, deliberately short, setting the scene: a US trip (hopefully) filled with fun rope based play.

Hoping to drop the next chapter very soon. It's written, just needs polishing.
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Post by RopeBunny »

002.

Am I still young enough to pass for a schoolgirl?

Realistically. No. Of course not, and, don't be fucking stupid. Early twenties isn't sixteen.

Which quite aside from anything else you couldn't do this: film, tie up.

Well. Maybe if you asked nicely. And she was into it. And.

Stop it Brooke.

The point is. No I'm not a schoolgirl. But. I am young enough to pass for the porn star equivalent of one, without it looking silly. If nothing else I'll simply look like a college student attending one of those 'school disco' themed dance parties.

And that, I think, nodding at my reflection in the bathroom mirror of my hotel room. "I can do."

I've had long email chain conversations with all the US bondage people I'm here to meet, discussions of what they want to do with me. To me.

And Jack's wife, Constance, is young too, so. Why not do a schoolgirl themed shoot?

"You look perfect ladies." Jack- thirty something, slight belly but otherwise in shape, dark brown hair sat curling but short atop his head, wearing blue jeans and a black tee -an approving smile, wandering around the room setting up camera's whilst Constance and me sit on the bed, the three of us talking about nothing much.

She's got a young face, wide slash of a mouth that spreads wider still when she smiles. Constance is a natural blonde, straight hair cut short though it still covers her ears. She's a slim ten, with natural B cups, and not a single piece of ink on her.

Schoolgirls, of course, aren't supposed to be covered in tattoos.

"Great." Giving Constance a playful shoulder nudge, she grins at me. "Can't do much about my hand though."
"Doesn't matter." Jack, stopping, standing to stretch and shake his head at me. "It's only the one."

Odd to have almost my entire canvas of ink hidden. Underneath a long sleeved white shirt a push up bra thrusts my F's up and out, pressing them into the fabric. Below the waist a too short black pleated skirt barely hides the matching white thong, whist black semi opaque stockings with elasticated tops cover my legs. No shoes, and Constance is wearing almost an exact matching outfit aside from her shirt being short sleeved, under which she's being a braless tease.

Dark red, maroon with yellow diagonal slashed lines, ties are loosely knotted, the top buttons of our shirts undone for a slightly casual look.

"What if...."
"If...?" Waving my hand for her to go on, a half smile leaking onto my face at her thoughtful expression. "What?"
"Well." Reaching out for my tattooed left hand, holding it in her right, patting the Eye of Rah inked onto the back. "Schoolgirls like to doodle and shit." Looking from me to Jack. "Right?"
"I guess." Shrugging.

"Well. What if we doodle with a black pen on your hand." Tracing long nails across my design, making me shiver briefly. "Change it into something random?"
"Excellent." Jack, giving his wife a thumbs up even as I nod. "Carry on."

And ten minutes later my Egyptian symbol instead resembles something swirling, and spiky, with a heart and the random initial E.

"Ready to begin Con? Plymouth?"
"Ready Jacky." Smiling back, blowing her husband a kiss.

"Definitely." Standing and stretching, all the way up onto tip toes, hands reaching for the ceiling. I nod. Flash a grin. "Jacky."
"Ha." Smiling at my use of his wife's nickname. "Alright then. Ladies." Grabbing a coiled rope off the shelf like desk running along one wall of my room. "Let's shoot some porn."

Some videos you shoot whilst doing the bondage, making the tie a part of it. Some, like this one, you tie first, and only shoot the resulting struggle. They both work, and im happy doing either.

Constance and me lay down across the length of my hotel bed, back to back but not touching, we leave enough room for Jack to work.

Our wrists are bound first. I can sense him behind me, kneeling and leaning over his wife, binding hers. And after a short while I feel Jack take hold of my own wrists, moving them towards Constance, threading one of my arms through the gap between her two before binding my wrists crossed. Constance and me are now sealed together at this one point, I can feel her arms brushing mine, can find her fingers with my own if I reach out.

Our wrists, separately tied, have been lashed together too.

Next up our ankles are bound, left tied to right in side by side fashion, then Jack passes rope from mine to his wife's, looping it back around, tugging, drawing our ankles together. Binding Constance and me at a second point.

"Ladies. Okay?"
"Sure." I nod.

"All good." From Constance, her body wriggling, a quick struggle, a test.

"Right." Looking up I see Jack nod, giving a thumbs up as he catches my gaze. "Gags then."

Tape. Thick silver tape, wrapped first around my head, with a second long length around Constance's, after which we lean back into each other, heads pressed together, allowing Jack to wrap a third batch around us both, pinning us together a final time.

"Shooting now ladies."

Showtime.

Jack shoots for, at a guess, close to a half hour. Footage which the two of them will edit down to between ten and fifteen minutes. They'll have several angles to play with, plus Jack's roaming and occasional close up camera, which he makes several passes with.

We'd discussed the script, such as it can be when there are no lines, beforehand.

To begin with Constance and me keep it minimal. We struggle, we moan, but everything's quiet, no sudden movements, no acting mad or distressed.

On a thumbs up signal from Jack all that changes. Now we become more vocal, our struggles becoming more active, as though we're now trying to break free. We roll around more on the bed, kicking out our lashed together legs, thrashing our bound wrists up and down.

Jack doesn't strip us, but he does open our shirts, revealing my bra and his wife's breasts, and my belly button surrounding sharks jaw tattoo. But by this point it doesn't matter if I have ink on show. Constance and me struggle, thrashing and bucking, some more. My F cups go bounce bounce, as no doubt do Constance's smaller B's.

It is, of course, all a lot of fun.

"Can you do more, Plymouth?"
"Sure." Untied. Stood pacing around the room, still in my schoolgirl outfit, shirt still hanging open. I stop, turn to face Jack and Constance, both leaning over a camera checking what they've shot. "As we discussed is it?"
"If that's okay?" Constance, looking up, asking.

"Sure." I nod. "You'll. What?" I shrug. "Add the fee into the transfer?"
"Already sent the one." Jack shrugs back, pulling out his phone. "Hold on, I'll take care of the extra now."
"Okay." I nod at Jack, turn to his wife. Grin. "I'm ready when you are."

Their website is, almost exclusively, pretty girls tied up by men. Mostly off camera. However, as Jack had explained during negotiations, recently they've begun experimenting with some female on female stuff. Constance doing the bondage. On screen.

Which is what I've agreed to do now. A second shoot, something they can post separately to what we've just done.

And this time it'll be both photos and a video on the website.

Photos first, over a hundred Jack seems to take, of his wife tying me up. Making the whole event a constant start stop start. Drawing out the tie, making me pose and turn. Jack, directing traffic each time so that each still, each captured image of his wife tying me up, shows everything being done by her to me in the best possible way.

Standing, shirt sealed back up, Constance binds my wrists side by side, followed by my elbows. I'm impressed, given she apparently hasn't yet had much practice, to feel her tugging and yanking all my ropes good and tight, forcing my elbows together, forcing my breasts to press forwards.

Using a long rope my breasts are tied into a harness, above and below, rope pressing in from the sides, squeezing.

At this point I'm ballgagged, a large black ball, joined to a black leather strap. My school tie, removed, is placed over the gag, knotted behind my head, a second gag.

Constance removes my skirt, helping it down my legs, tossing it away after I've stepped out of it, revealing my skimpy white lace thong, which she then ties a crotch rope atop.

Flash of eye contact, a brief just for me smile as her fingers, working the rope, brush over and across my pussy lips, finding me wet. Excited. Turned on by the ropes as I always am.

I'd been gently buzzing inside whilst we filmed the fist part. Feeling Constance behind me, her pert little butt and questing hands brushing up against me constantly whilst we struggled for Jack's camera's. Maybe some pornstars don't get turned on at work, maybe, for some of them it really is just a job. A paycheck. Not fun.

Not the case with me. Being tied up is, easily, the best way to make me horny. Bondage always gets me off, being helpless in tight ropes, or any kind of restraints, is just.

The best thing ever.

Followed closely by being the one in charge. Binding someone else, making them my little rope bitch, gets me off too.

So. Being tied by Constance is making me wet all over again, the moans escaping from behind my gags are not in the least faked. I've been buzzing, tingling at a low but constant level the whole time she's been stop start stop binding me.

It's a particular kind of torture, taking so long to tie me up, prolonging the feeling of approaching helplessness that's steadily settling over me.

Making me, as Constance just discovered, wet. Horny. Pretty fucking up for a fucking. Ha.

She ties my legs: ankles, above and below the knee.

And, once I've managed- Constance giggling at me the whole way -to hop and shuffle across to the bed, to fall onto it, to wriggle myself into the centre, laid on my belly, the tie continues.

Ankles, forcibly pulled up and over, legs bending, Constance feeds the rope she just tied through the one at my elbows. She tugs, pulling, sat behind me with my knees against her, using the angle as leverage to force me into a tight hogtie.

Tight.

Tighter.

I realise too late, as a loud moan escapes me, as the final hard yank comes, that Jack is no longer in sight. Because he's now behind me, helping out, ensuring my body is bent into the strictest hogtie possible.

Cheats.

That final yank bought my head and shoulders, my breasts, up off the bed, and with the rope tied off they can't sink back down, my body is now locked into a C shape, a curve.

Which Constance finishes off firstly by wrapping and knotting rope into my hair, tying that back to my ankles, forcing my head to remain up, and back. Secondly she, with a cheeky grin, opens my shirt halfway, popping both F cups out of my bra, tucking the shirt back so my breasts are on full show.

"Okay." Kneeling on the floor, arms resting on the bed, face hovering in front of mine. "Plymouth?"
"Fffmmmggppp" I nod. Try to nod, an act which causes my whole body to rock gently back and forth. "Mmmffff ggggmmmpppffff."
"Great." Smiling. Constance nods back, darts in to plant a quick kiss on my gagged lips. "We'll start filming."

Jack circles me, camera in hand, as I rock. And moan. Up and down, side to side. Doing my best to struggle when in actual fact I can hardly move.

Though I do, eventually, succeed in rolling onto my side, which brings me face to face, across the room anyway, with Constance.

Sitting on the chair beside my hotel room window, legs spread wide, thong already pulled down. Fingers diving in and out of her exposed pussy. Getting herself off as she watches me, as though it were perfectly normal to wank over the sight of me, who she tied, struggling away.

My own arousal leaps, my pussy giving a sudden throb as both nipples light on fire, as I feel a kick of adrenaline in my belly.

I moan, loudly, thrusting my body out at her, offering myself. Forgetting the video in that moment. Wanting to be played with, wanting Constance to come over here, to enjoy me. Wanting a taste of that pussy.

But she only shakes her head, winks, blows me a kiss and carries on touching herself up.

Teasing me.

And all this with her husband here. Filming. He can see, he knows, what she's doing. And, he doesn't care, is okay with Constance using my helplessness as a wank aid.

She's going to sit there, watching me struggle, enjoying me, but she isn't going to come over and play.

Which gets me frustrated. Which gets me more horny. More turned on. More aroused.

I put on a show for her. For Jack, for the camera yes, of course. I'm being paid to perform after all. But, as my moaning ramps up in volume, as my struggles and wriggles become more urgent, more violent, as I begin to feel a warm pulsing down below where the crotch rope is rubbing my clit with each move I make.

I race Constance to an orgasm.

And lose. Of course. Because that's just the rotten luck I'd expect.

And, intentionally or otherwise, I'll never know, Jack manages to ruin my own climax. The orgasm is seconds away, my moans have become pants have become nothing at all. Because I don't always scream when I climax, sometimes it's a silent thing, a rush I feel but give no voice to.

Seconds away, my eyes closed, feeling the tingle build as it races all through me.

And then, without warning, I'm pushed over onto my belly, feeling Jack's large hands yanking at my knots, freeing me.

Destroying the illusion of helplessness I need in order to hit that so close peak.

Does he know? Do either of them? I don't bring it up, a mixture of embarrassment- I'm not normally, but, it had been such an intimate feeling moment between Constance and me -and generally not really knowing the dynamic between the two of them, stops me. Does Constance always play with herself in front of the tied models? Is it, was it all a trick, have I been tricked somehow into being used?

Doesn't really feel like it. Yes, Constance kind of, I guess, has taken advantage. However there's no way I'll complain when, ruined and denied orgasm aside, the whole thing has been a blast.

So. They pack up, and leave with a hug each from me at the door. Because despite my frustration, the fact I feel like a part of me is still hanging on that peak, we had fun together.

"I'll just have to go rope shopping tomorrow." I tell the now closed door, nodding. "Get me some fucking supplies, then we can see about finding that high."
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Post by GreyLord »

Wonderful, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. Although your last story was well written, I am enjoying this one much more. It feels as if a matured Plymouth of old has returned. Excellent descriptions.
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey,

Well, seems Plymouth is getting right into the action. Or more specifically, the primary purpose of her trip.

I like the little details on preparing/setting up the shoot. Really helps flesh out the scene.
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago It's a particular kind of torture, taking so long to tie me up, prolonging the feeling of approaching helplessness that's steadily settling over me.
Great line. Pulls double duty on both characterization (important, since this is technically a new story) and describing the situation in an indirect, but very evocative way.

Some echoes of the old, sometimes reckless, Plymouth too, but (thankfully) this is a much more controlled environment. But perhaps she no longer needs that safety net.
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Post by RopeBunny »

GreyLord wrote: 1 year ago It feels as if a matured Plymouth of old has returned.
BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago
Some echoes of the old, sometimes reckless, Plymouth too,
Indeed :D :lol: the mature Plymouth of old, in the beginning prehaps, who morphed into the somewhat reckless Plymouth of old but slightly more recent times.

Can't say there won't be reckless moments ahead. Brooke/Plymouth does love to walk a fine line at times. But I'm going for a more upbeat tone here, attempting to keep this tale largely based around Brookes pornstar journey across the US.

Thank you both for commenting.
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Post by RopeBunny »

003.

I had planned to sightsee today, my last full day in New York. When I visited Japan, before, I'd taken the time to wander Hiroshima, to visit the museum. I've seen, with my own eyes now, the devastation one weapon can cause. The shadow flash image of people still burned onto the side of a ruined building, something guaranteed to send a chill racing along the spine.

Whilst it's true that ground zero, once home to the iconic twin towers, is not the same kind of world changing event. The fact remains that it was, is, a world changing event.

A huge loss of life.

And, just like Hiroshima. Given the opportunity I felt compelled to visit. To see the new tower. To, I doubt I could ever fully understand such things but, to see is to remember. And we must remember, or else one day such evil acts may happen again.

A huge rectangular patch of green right at the city's heart, Central Park was on my list too. I'd planned to spend almost the entire afternoon getting pleasantly lost amongst the twisting turning paths, seeking out spots of sun to relax and read in.

However.

Thanks to Jack and his cheeky wife, thanks to yesterday's paid bondage session that, kinda, got out of hand. Or at least Constance fingering herself as she watched my tied struggles weren't in any script that I saw. Thanks to all of that, my orgasm that never was.

What I need to do instead is go shopping.

Buy rope, and stuff, return to the hotel, and then, somehow, use said rope, and stuff, to achieve happiness.

A plan with plenty of holes.

But. "I'll make it up as I go." I tell the empty lift, riding down to street level, heading out.

"Oops." Laughter bubbling up out of me, turning to watch the last of the half dozen men exit at some speed from the sex shop I've just entered. I turn back to the shop itself, the counter directly ahead, the middle aged bearded Sci-fi tee wearing man tending register. "Looks like I just lost you some business."
"Nah." Shaking his head, grinning, gesturing at the now closed door behind the curtain I just walked through. "Half of those guys are my regulars." He tuts. "They'll be back once the shock of seeing a real woman wears off."

To which I burst out laughing again, the shop worker joining in.

Later, having bought some toys from Bill, the shop worker, very helpful, happily married. I'd half expected, in a sex shop, to be recognised. That's not my ego talking, I know bondage is just one small blip in the greater ocean of porn, and I know I'm just one of hundreds of girls getting tied up for cash. But.

I do know I'm popular. As far as that goes. I've won an award, something like the porn Oscars it was, several years ago. But I won best newcomer. Something no bondage star had ever. Ever. Done.

Plus I was runner up, which isn't a trophy but it still counts for something- top four out of fuck knows how many submissions is damn good in my opinion -last year at those same awards in the 'Best Bondage Video' category.

Lost out to an French girl. A damn good video too. Not quite as quirky as my offering: getting chased around a hedge maze whilst bound and gagged, topless, by four guys dressed in inflatable Tyrannosaurus costumes.

No. Really. I did. My very good friend Daniel, owner of a website specialising in out there strange bondage, shot it, and submitted it without telling me until after I'd made the short list.

Love you Daniel.

What did the French girl do? It was a classic, not too tight or extreme, hogtie and ballgag combo. Except she did it in some very well put together cosplay, you'd swear it really was Elsa, the princess, queen, from the Frozen franchise, struggling on that four poster bed.

The point is, in pornstar land I am popular. I get work offers, a steady stream of emails. And I'd no sooner put out the feelers for this hop across the pond when US bondage sites began getting in touch. So it was quite a surprise when, even after some semi playful hinting on my part, Bill, who runs the shop with his wife, did not know who I was.

Could've sworn at least one of his 'regulars' did a double take as they walked passed me though, flash of recognition in their eyes.

Always nice to meet a fan.

Sex toys safely stowed away in my messenger bag, I head to Home Depot, for rope.

And. "Fuck me." Stood just inside the entrance, looking around, looking up. The shop is like some giant cavern warehouse space. Easily the biggest building I've been in aside from indoor arenas.

Eventually, refusing for no real reason other then the fact I'm quite enjoying getting lost- if I can't do it in Central Park I'll do it here -so don't want to ask any of the numerous assistants for help, I find the rope.

All two hundred feet in one large spool.

And cable ties.

Approximately three hundred of the little suckers in one large bag.

Because this is a bulk buy type of store, something I overlooked in my desire to buy real rope and not that silk feel crap they sell in sex shops like Bill's.

Sorry Bill, but, they do, and, it just feels too. Soft. And not real.

"Back to the harbour is it, miss?"
"What?" Confused, climbing into the back seat of the taxi having just dumped my purchases into the boot. "Harbour?"
"Well," Gaze finding mine in the rear view, "I figure." A shrug as he selects drive on the autoshift, pulls away. "All that rope, must be you've got a boat needs outfitting, miss."
"Oh." I laugh, quickly clamping a hand over my mouth. "No. Um. Back to my hotel please."
"Course miss." Nodding, flicking his indicator on. "Won't take long."

I get some funny looks walking through the lobby, riding the not empty lift. Skinny girl, blue jeans and a grey vest top showing plenty of cannon like cleavage, plenty of ink too. Black leather biker jacket complete with gang patch -did I tell you I was in a real biker gang -on the back. Cute little semi goth looking prehaps not so innocent me, visibly carrying enough rope to kidnap everyone on my floor.

Tempting.

Without thinking, because it is my room, I walk straight in. Finding a semi plump looking black woman from, presumably, housekeeping, singing some girl pop song loudly whilst remaking my bed.

"Hey there."
"Jesusfuck." Spinning around, fast, hands coming up in some parody of a self defence guard, just as quickly dropped as she sees me, and presumably not someone deemed threatening. "Can I." Pausing to breathe, to calm down it appears. "Help you?"
"This is my room." I smile, stepping inside, letting the door swing silently shut.

"Ah." Nodding. "Right. Sorry."
"Don't be." I shrug, dropping my bag and rope spool onto the desk, underneath the wall mounted flatscreen. Shrugging off my jacket I turn to face her. "It's fine."
"I was. Um." Gaze darting on, off, my rope, she waves a hand around my room. "Just cleaning."
"Okay." I nod. "Are you done?"
"Not yet."
"Well." I think. "I don't need you to finish. So...."
"No no." Shaking her head. "If it's okay, I'll carry on?"
"Sure."

I nod. She nods back, picking a spray bottle and cloth up from my bedside table, wandering into the ensuite.

Seeing no reason not to I get to work myself. There's a thin strip of fabric in my suitcase, two metres exactly because I don't tend to work in feet, measured before I left home in preparation for just this moment. I fetch it out, and, grabbing the knife I bought with this in mind, begin.

"Thing is." Called out from the other room. "Staying here, really helps me out."
"Yeah?" Half shouting back. Measure two, two more to make four, and cut. "How so?"
"Yours is the last room on this floor." A pause, I insert the shrug I imagine her doing. "If I go back downstairs now, they'll only have me helping out someone else. So...."
"So." Four plus four plus four plus four plus four makes, twenty. Cut. "Basically you're playing hooky?"
"Yeah." She laughs, I join in.

"You're checking out tomorrow. Right?"
"Tomorrow." Nodding, rather absently, my mind mostly focused elsewhere. And. Cut. "Midday wasn't it?"
"Ten."
"Okay." Nodding, already having forgotten what time she said. "Eleven. Got it."
"Ten."
"Sure." Waving a dismissive hand at the bathroom. "I got it."

"So." Sometime, I've no clue how much time, later, her voice startles me back into the world, climbing back up from all the deep thinking and problem solving I'd been doing. I look up, at the bathroom door. Blink. Look around me at the semi mess I've made, the half knotted ropes, the plugged in wand vibrator laid atop the bed. Look down at myself, smirking at my semi naked state as her voice precedes her out of my bathroom.

"I was going to...." Stood in the doorway now, words drying up but mouth still moving for a couple more seconds as she stops. Looks around at the room. At me.

Cocking her head to one side, a small smile in echo of the one I'm wearing. Not at all embarrassed, despite her being a stranger, to be discovered doing what I'm doing.

"Oh?" She says.

"I can explain." I reply, wondering if it'll sound crazier out loud then it did as a plan in my head.

"Okay." Leaning back against the doorframe, still smiling, gesturing. "Let's hear all about it then."
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Post by Caesar73 »

For me personally? I liked the reflections of Brooke at the beginning of this chapters best, comparing 9/11 and Hiroshima. That adds a sombre note to this chapter, and I like that.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Caesar73 wrote: 1 year ago I liked the reflections of Brooke at the beginning of this chapters best, comparing 9/11 and Hiroshima.
Thanks. Writing the bondage side of these stories is great fun, but stuff like that, the various asides that link everything together, I like doing them too.

Enjoyed writing the Hiroshima stuff back in my original Plymouth story, this was a good opportunity to do similar again.
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Post by GreyLord »

I echo and ditto [mention]Caesar73[/mention]. After the period of reflection, Plymouth becomes urgent. Good job, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention].
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Her reaction to seeing ground zero is interesting. It highlights the human tendency to focus on 'big, single events' rather then all the small, little tragedies that happen every day (and tend to add up to far more suffering and death). Interesting because it highlights exactly why certain issues are addressed, and others are not; people (and therefore society at large) generally only react to the major events, and even then, often in a counterproductive, kneejerk manner. Like it or not, we are mostly ruled by our emotions. A set of realities that explains much about why things end up the way they do.
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Lost out to an French girl. A damn good video too. Not quite as quirky as my offering: getting chased around a hedge maze whilst bound and gagged, topless, by four guys dressed in inflatable Tyrannosaurus costumes.
Is that a tinge of jealousy on Brooke's part? :P

I liked the awkward conversation about the rope.

Also, seems like Plymouth's fascination with bondage is about to impose itself on another poor hotel worker, although perhaps in a more reasonable, up front fashion.
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Post by RopeBunny »

BlissfulMisery wrote: 1 year ago Is that a tinge of jealousy on Brooke's part?
Maybe :lol:
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004.

She looks at me, this girl, stood across the small hotel room. My hotel room. Leaning back against the doorframe, the threshold between bathroom and bedroom.

She looks at me. I look at her.

Older then me, but still twenty something. Smooth black skin and dyed orange- of all the strange colours -hair that curls but doesn't quite touch her shoulders. Her body is like some kind of crazy hourglass: thick black jeans clad legs and a large rounded butt lead up to a far slimmer waist, above which she balloons out again to what look like natural F cups, possibly even G's, barely contained within a green hotel logo stamped tee.

"So." Still smiling at me, as though at a good joke. Something funny as she prods a nearby coil of rope with a Nike clad foot. There's rope all over the room, dumped, tied off as a loop.

One end wrapped and knotted to my bed.

"What's with all the rope?"
"Well...." Tapping a finger against my lips. I'm not trying to come up with a lie, fuck that, but there's more then one version of this I could tell.

Because I wasn't actually completely sure what I was up to.

Was I, attempting to figure out how best to tie myself up, some fashion of tie that felt tight, was easy to get out of, and which would allow me access to the vibrator.

Or, was I simply practicing, working things out ready for a Domme- where I'm the Domme -type shoot in San Francisco.

Or.

I grin at her. Yes, I'd mostly forgotten she was here, but, not completely.

"I was working out how best to kidnap you." I shrug, my tone all matter of fact, as though kidnapping weren't a crime, was in fact just a normal activity. Like eating lunch. "But you came back early." I kick my own nearby rope across the floor. Laugh. "Shit."

"Yeah?" Slight frown.

"Sure." I nod, falling smoothly into the game. Because mostly I had forgotten she was still here, had been trying to figure out a way to get myself off in some inventive self bondage. But.

This. Potentially. Could be much more fun.

"Was only trying to help." A shrug.

"Help?" Confused now, still not mad, which is a good sign, she still mostly sounds amused by everything. "How would kidnapping me help?"
"Good question." I nod, putting on a brief thoughtful face, to which she grins, tuts. I grin back. Enjoying myself. "If I tie you up you can't leave." I point to my bed, mentally picturing her already splayed out like a starfish. "You can't go downstairs and get roped into more work."

"Roped in." Raised eyebrow at my pun, which I hadn't meant to do. Honest. "So." Coming off the wooden frame, bending to pick up some rope, the end of which she begins to twirl. "You were just being helpful huh?"
"Definitely." Deciding to push my luck, doing a dismissive back and forth gesture with both arms. "Absolutely no funny business, just a standard kidnapping."
"No." Looking at me, tossing her rope onto my bed, managing to hit my plugged in, but not turned on, wand vibrator. "Funny business?"
"Well." Grinning. Fuck it, all in or nothing. "Maybe," thumb and finger held a tiny bit apart, "a little bit."

"So why are you naked?"
"Am I?" Acting shocked, looking down at my, admittedly, almost naked body. At some point, getting into the whole self bondage zone, I'd stripped down to my pink and grey lace bra, black lace brazilian pants.

She laughs, waves a hand at my chest. "Well, girl."
"Brooke."
"Brooke." A quick nod. "Tits like that, you might as well be naked."
"Would you like me to be?"
"What?" Voice climbing to shocked, caught out, her eyes darting it seems all over me.

"Would you like me to be naked?" Keeping my own tone calm, just an edge of sexy. I think fast, make some more crap up on the fly. "I thought wearing this," flick of a hand across my left breast, "would be a good distraction. But." Holding her gaze, licking my lips like a predator closing in. "Maybe," a small quick shrug, "if I strip naked. Do you think I'd be more distracting?"

"I. Um." Does she even like girls? Maybe she prefers boys? But some girls, who like boys, like girls too.

I wait, small smile, inviting, on my lips.

"Okay." She nods, smile growing. "You naked would definitely be a distraction."

"But...."
"But...?" Bra already off and tossed across the room, pants in my hand having just stepped out of them. "What?"
"Well." Her smile has grown. She nods. "Prehaps I saw you strip," stepping back, retreating into my bathroom, "from in here. You know." Stepping behind the door, making a show of peering around it. "Maybe I peeked. Saw your plan?"
"Um." Wait. "Okay...?" Is she playing along? I toss my pants away, face her, naked, shrug. "And if you did, what then?"

"Well." She shrugs, almost a copy of the 'no big deal' normal attitude I'd been putting on. Comes back into the room. "Maybe I stripped too?"
"Well." Really? Okay. Wow. Roll with it Brooke, fuck it why not. "Maybe you did."

Her breasts are huge. Definitely G cups. Twin dark globes topped by rounded black nipples, they flop out of her bra- the last item she removes -and bounce before settling high on her large upper torso, which still looks strange tapering into that skinny waist, that huge bubble like butt.

Her breasts, surprisingly, don't sag or drop, hardly at all. Instead they hang off her frame, sticking way out like mountains. Pointing right at me as she stands, facing me.

They are, truthfully, quite a mesmerising sight.

"So." Hands on hips, legs apart, eyebrow raised. "You were...." Giving me a smile. "Going to kidnap me?"
"I was." Nodding, stepping towards her. "Going t-"
"Except." Talking over me, stepping in, meeting my advance with her own. "I peeked, remember?"
"Yes." We aren't stood that close, but, between my jutting F's and her overkill G's, almost brushing nipples, you'd think we were positively face to face.

"Prehaps." Reaching out to touch my hand, my hand that's holding a coil of rope. She smiles. "I turned the tables."

And. It isn't, doesn't come out like, a question. It doesn't sound as though she's asking.

It comes across more like she's taking control. Of the scene. Of the game.

Of me.

And. She wasn't to know, couldn't possibly know, but I have this nasty habit of rolling over whenever someone asserts dominance over me. It's gotten me into a fair amount of trouble, but I can't help myself, can't stop myself.

Someone rises up, takes charge, and I raise the white flag.

She doesn't wait for my answer anyway. Still holding my hand she makes a half circuit of me, reaching to grab my other wrist once she's behind. I let go the rope I'm holding without a fight, feeling something come loose inside, the start of yesterday's ruined orgasm, setting out from the station, building steam.

Feeling a tingle begin to grow as this stranger binds my wrists together tightly.

"Heather." Spoken softly in my ear, her body pressed in close against me, G cups squashed into my back, her hands reaching around to trace circles of my F's.

"Got to say." She continues. "Wasn't expecting this today."
"Got to be more fun then cleaning though," searching with my fingers, finding a tuft of pubic hair, teasing, moving lower, finding her slit, "right?"
"Uh huh." Like a half sigh. "Fucking right."

We stand there awhile, her hands on my breasts, my own questing within her pussy, making each other wet.

"You." Stopping to breathe. "Take it you aren't a novice at this?"
"At kidnapping?" Knowing, making a good guess, that she means the ropes, not the girl on girl action. "No."
"So," tongue out, flicking across my ear, making me arch my back against her, "I don't got to go easy on you. Brooke?"
"No." Stepping forwards out of her embrace, she let's me. I turn around, shake my head. "Just." A shrug, better to be honest about what this is. "I'm checking out tomorrow, so, this is just a fuck. Just fun. Okay?"

"Sure." Nodding, bending to pick up some rope. "Just fun. Just today."
"Good."
"Going to make you scream though." Flashing a smile at me. "Because I don't tie no pussy knots."
"Going to try." I counter, smiling back.

And in she comes.

Pushing me back, back, making me trip over the bed, following me down.

Binding me into a basic hogtie, which I can already tell, without seeing, without even testing the ropes.

It won't hold.

Apparently satisfied Heather climbs, rolls, off me. Looking up I find her looking down, smiling. She reaches out to run a hand down across my breast, down further, tracing a line towards my waiting, wet, pussy.

I struggle, not too hard, making a show of the helplessness that isn't. Feeling bad at what I'm about to do, wanting her to have at least a moment to savour this illusion: me, tied up, her, the victor.

Yes, I could simply stay in the badly tied ropes, and she'd never know. But I'd know, and if it isn't tied tightly, if my captivity isn't real.

Then I'll never be able to let go.

I stretch, flex, wriggle and bounce my body just so. And.

Am.

Free.

"All talk." Rolling Heather over onto her back, climbing up on top. "Yeah?"
"Well." Sheepish grin, licking her lips. "Thing is...."
"That you talk a good game." Straddling her now, twisting her plump legs up in mine, using my strength to force them apart. Taking a wrist in each hand, pinning them above her head, wide apart. My body forcing hers into an X. "Just talk though huh?"
"Yeah yeah." Shaking her head, smiling up at me as her brief attempted struggle gets no results. "You got me, Brooke."

Leaning in to kiss her, feeling the stab of her nipples against my breasts, I grin.

Keeping her body locked easily into an X whilst we make out, feeling the heat smoking off her pussy, knowing she'll be able to feel mine.

"I'm." Kissing, my blood up, horny, I want to play. "Going to make you scream."
"I." Eyes going wide like a flash of fear. Heather licks her lips. Has she ever been tied up before? Looking down, kissing her again, pussy still grinding gently against pussy, she looks just as lost to it all as me. Whatever that- ultimately false -bravado was before, she seems content to be underneath me, happy to let me take charge.

"Yes." Leaning in close, tongue flicking across Heather's right nipple, making her shiver. I bring my face back above hers. Grin down. "Because I don't tie no pussy knots."

Her breath catches. We stare, gazes locked, in silence, for an eternity. I gently but firmly ease my legs wider, forcing hers further apart. Making my point.

"Yes." Barely a whisper.

"Yes?" Kissing her. "You want to play?"
"Yes." Chest rising and falling, Heather nods. "Tie me up." She stops to swallow. Nods. "Make me scream."

I hogtie her.

Tightly.

Arms pressed horizontally together behind her, one massive rope to tie wrists and breasts, looping and wrapping, tugging, yanking each knot and each time I do Heather grunts, bites her lip. But doesn't protest. Doesn't say no, or stop.

A second long rope wraps those G cups up, figure eight style. Squeezing them.

On impulse, because of course I'm allowed to change my mind, I don't tie her up any further.

She won't. Run away. At least I don't think she'll run. But, out of the blue I had this sudden vision of her running off down the corridor, naked, upper half tied and G cups bouncing. It won't come true, because she won't run away. But the image made me smile, and if I tie her legs then it can't happen.

Not that it will happen. Sometimes my head is a confusing place. I am, not tying her legs so that in my pretend world I can imagine her running off. Because I think she'd look damn sexy doing so. And if I tie her legs she can't, which means I can't imagine it.

Make sense to you?

Good.

"No more rope?" Giving me a look as I flop down beside her on the bed, rolling onto her side to face me. "Can't see how this," shaking her bound upper body, "is supposed to make me scream?"
"Well." Her chest is still bouncing, those things really are massive. I grin, run a hand over her breast, cupping one dark nipple in my hand, squeezing.

Smiling wider as she gasps.

"Who ever said tight ropes were the only way to make you scream."

In the end we climax together, prehaps she beats me by a heartbeat or two, likely due to the fact she's riding the wand, pressed firmly in place by me as I sit astride her face, mashing my pussy down repeatedly onto her willing eager tongue.

She. Kind of screams, though it's muffled, and, to be fair she isn't getting a whole lot of access to breathable air what with my crotch sealed over her lips.

But. Yes. She screams, I scream. We both have a lot of fun.

She takes me out drinking that night. Not as a prelude to more sex, we don't so much as cuddle, which is cool.

Just a fuck, as I'd said, and meant. So I wasn't expecting a round two.

But we drink, touring the local bars and clubs, the places she knows, places off the tourist trail, finding her friends in scattered two's and three's, the group forever seeming to change size as we leave someone behind in a bar, only to gain two more in the next club.

Eight of them, including Heather, insist on walking me back to the hotel at well after midnight, me riding the swell of voices raised in friendly discussion of various nonsense topics, interspersed with equally noisy laugher.

It's been fun, New York, but tomorrow I'm moving on, heading West.

Places to be, people to tie up, be tied up by.

What a busy- fun -life I lead.
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Post by GreyLord »

What a busy- fun -life I lead.
What a busy- fun -story I read.
Thank you [mention]RopeBunny[/mention].
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Post by BlissfulMisery »

Hey,

I like the bit of almost 'bait and switch', with the overconfidence. Makes the scene feel more organic, as certainly such moments do happen...
RopeBunny wrote: 1 year ago Places to be, people to tie up, be tied up by.
Well, hopefully more successfully tied up then this time! But reality has a way of crashing down into fantasy.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Sorry everyone, been ill.
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