A Whole New World (MF+/F+) *CHAPTERS x 3 March 27th* *FINISHED*

[GreyLord]

You paint a great picture with a lot of detail. Well done, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. Thank you for introducing Tara.

[RopeBunny]

Thank you for introducing Tara.

I like her too

[BlissfulMisery]

A dangerous game Dru was playing. It was exactly the sort of thing I was concerned about, although in this case it thankfully seemed to work out and both of them enjoyed the experience. Still a little questionable, but it is understandable why it happened that way.

An awkward start, but overall great chemistry between them as they played off each other's reactions and overall energy.

One who wants to take control, and one who wants to give it up. Simple, but very much as it should be.

[RopeBunny]

A dangerous game Dru was playing.

Some of that will always be down to my getting carried away whilst writing. I tend towards letting the story flow, coming in to each chapter with a rough plan (beginning-something-something-end) and then kinda winging it, letting ideas take hold.

I've, genuinely, had stories change direction, just because a random mid chapter idea grew, and grew, becoming like a new focus

Prehaps too, the danger, by which I'm thinking you mean Dru simply assuming control, I don't really write stories where the TUG is negotiated before hand, which of course in reality it should be. Limits agreed and so forth, everybody safe.

I tend to jump straight into the action

So. Yes. Dangerous, for sure, but luckily Tara was into it.

Thanks for commenting. Not sure if I've said, but, you tend to write interesting/thoughtful comments. Gets me thinking, which is never a bad thing.

Next chapter soon everyone

[BlissfulMisery]

Some of that will always be down to my getting carried away whilst writing. I tend towards letting the story flow, coming in to each chapter with a rough plan (beginning-something-something-end) and then kinda winging it, letting ideas take hold.

Yes, it gives your stories that sort of natural flow (which to be clear I very much enjoy!), hence why I said 'I understand why'; it seemed fairly clear this is what was happening, and even from a pure realism point of view (not that a fictional story needs to be perfectly realistic), it was not strange it happened this way.

Prehaps too, the danger, by which I'm thinking you mean Dru simply assuming control, I don't really write stories where the TUG is negotiated before hand, which of course in reality it should be. Limits agreed and so forth, everybody safe.

I tend to jump straight into the action

So. Yes. Dangerous, for sure, but luckily Tara was into it.

That is always the tension with stories - one does not want to go on and on setting up the circumstances, and obviously there is a fear of writing something tedious and boring.

To be clear this is not meant as a criticism of the story, or to imply that you are not aware of this, but I suppose it makes sense to actually explain *why* what Dru did is 'bad', despite the seeming acceptance from Tara, incase someone else stumbles onto this without such knowledge and is confused...

During the scene it was fairly clearly communicated that Tara was 'falling into her submission' (not the best phrasing but I suppose I should keep this short) - her breathing changed, she was starting to have more trouble speaking ect.

That is a fun - intoxicating might be a good word, in *all* it's implied meanings - mental state to be in, but it is also dangerous; it is likely Tara would have said yes to a lot different things, even things that she might have ended up being upset by afterwards when she was thinking more clearly.

This is the reason why 'in reality' negotiations are done beforehand. 'Consent' of this sort, in the moment, is not really proper consent, it is arguably similar to getting someone very drunk and then trying to coerce them to do something, even if that was obviously not the conscious intent here.

Also the reason why submission is such a sign of deep trust - in these situations one can literally be entirely reliant on the dominant to be the 'voice of reason'. Obviously it varies for people, not everyone reacts this way but this tangent is long enough as it is, so I will not go into further detail.

As we both said, it did work out in the end, but if Dru had gone further, Tara might have said yes in the moment, and then been upset afterwards, feeling like she had been taken advantage of. Not a good position for either character to end up in, as it is a perfect recipe for hurt and guilt.

But as I said, it makes perfect sense. It is not like Dru knows what she is doing in this regard, and Tara either does not, or at least did not see fit to inform her less experienced partner (I suspect she is also fairly new to all of this, but obviously that is just a guess). It flows well and feels 'real'.

Thanks for commenting. Not sure if I've said, but, you tend to write interesting/thoughtful comments. Gets me thinking, which is never a bad thing.

Thank you. It is good to hear that it is appreciated.

I know I have said this many times in the past, even in this comment, but just because I pick at something/mention something, does not generally mean I have a 'problem with it', as indeed my goal is more to stir thinking about it - even if sometimes it is just my own. I am likely the strange one in this regard, but to me those sorts of deeper details are what matters in a story.

Of course gets me into trouble a lot, since clearly a lot of people do not see it the same way...

[RopeBunny]

Hey [mention]BlissfulMisery[/mention] Thanks for commenting on my comment of your comment of my story

I don't ever see anything you write as bad criticism, all is good.

Sub space, I believe, isn't that what it's called? That is what I was trying to go for, with Tara drifting off, to imply she's fallen into that sweet sub spot.

Which, yes, can definitely be a risky thing in reality.

Luckily we're in story word and I'll keep her safe.

[RopeBunny]

006.

It's bound2play, not to or even too, but two, and all one word.

Kel, engrossed in one of her half dozen weekly must watch shows, and these on top of whatever she happens to be binging on Netflix, barely spares me a glance, offering a distracted wave as I walk through the front room.

In the kitchen I make spaghetti on toast, wolfing the small dinner whilst stood beside the counter, downing a glass of water.

Taking a second to my room.

A quick shower, fresh white pants: I don't own any thongs, preferring hipster style boypants, most of which have a cartoon like twist, these having the pony Rainbow Dash prancing on my crotch. Slipping on a black hoodie, not bothering with a bra, I get to work.

First, transfer the photos of Tara onto my desktop. It's a pro gamer setup, huge curved monitor, custom built tower. Easily the most expensive thing I own.

Deleting everything blurred, I dump the rest into a folder, choosing one to be my new wallpaper. Tara, staring out of the screen at me, legs spread, breasts thrust forwards, eyes half closed and mouth clamped around her ballgag. A bound helpless present offering herself up.

Next I find bound2play.

The welcome screen, for logging in, signing up, is covered in ads. One of which catches my eye.

'Kink Bazaar.'

The title, a name for an event. The word kink in red, slashed like knife wounds, the word bazaar in rainbow colours, bubble like letters.

'A fetish filled marketplace all under one roof, doors open twelve until late, third Sunday each month at.'

I frown at the address, the town name semi familiar. Close by?

'Browse the many stalls. Meet friends. Make new friends. Let us help you live your best kinky life.'

The third Sunday is. Scoot my chair backwards across the room towards my phone, discarded on the bed.

Resist the urge to shout like a kid on a roller coaster as I do.

This Sunday is the third one this month.

Okay. So. Luckily, having no friends other then those I mingle with at the hobby store, people whose names I know but who I've never hung out with outside of intense fights with both miniatures and cards. There's no wargamming commitment this Sunday, so I'm free.

Where? That's the next question.

"Well." Blowing out a breath, tapping pen to a scribble filled sheet of paper, covered in times and more times. "Damn."

It isn't close. And, as though some otherworldly power were out to thwart me there's engineering work on the railways. Which means a replacement bus for the middle third of my journey both up and back.

But I can do it. I can go. If I wake up early, if I don't stay at the Bazaar too late.

I can go.

I want to go. Eager to play again, and again. I can't rely on others to have all the right stuff. Plus the thought of having my own bondage stash is thrilling, a whole drawer, or three, full of fun.

Returning my attention to the computer, I buy travel tickets, codes on my phone to scan at the various platform gates I'll be passing through.

Money spent, sealing the deal.

Sunday morning is hard. I can be an early riser, up and out. Black Iron Maiden hoodie pulled on over a baggy blue tee, grey joggers, the Adidas stripe in white, baggy and bunching above black army boots worn loose.

Kel's door still firmly closed. Think Carl came home with her last night?

It isnt the morning, the early start, that's hard, it's the broken journey.

The waiting, first at my station, then out in a carpark, some little village, stood around in loose groups with prehaps three dozen others, scattered talk and the occasional laugh, someone's kids charging all around, treating our multiple huddles like a maze to be negotiated at speed.

And the bus seems so much slower then the train before, a slave to traffic. Stop start stop. I can't focus on my book, a sure fire way to drift usually, but at journeys end is the Kink Bazaar, something new and unknown.

And fun?

So the slow progress feels like a personal taunt, the driver- of course he isn't but it feels like -purposefully taking the most winding of routes just to spite my grand plan.

And after all that there's still one last train.

Until.

Finally.

After a half hours walk, declining the thought of a taxi because I've spent far too long sat down already. The hotel, the venue, comes into sight.

Office buildings flanking the road, the hotel ahead and beyond it farmland. I get a good view from far away, which means I get to see people turning up.

A taster of what awaits me inside.

A guy, slim, well turned out in dark blue suit and white shirt, black shoes. And I can't see it, still closing slowly in, but he's clearly wearing a collar, because I can see the short chain sprouting from his neck, the other end of which is being held by a quite round looking lady. Large chest and belly poured into jeans and a tee stretched tight.

He seems quite happy to be led, and she equally proud- head up -of her catch.

Closer. I spot a lady climbing from the drivers side of a car not parked, simply sat close to the main doors. Wearing a white tee and rainbow coloured leggings she taps on the car roof, after which a second lady, carrying something black, climbs from the passenger side.

Walking steadily nearer I watch, interest becoming amusement becoming disbelief, as the black thing is revealed as a straight jacket, which the driver is helped into by her giggling friend. Shaking my head. What the fuck? I watch as the now semi helpless lady laughs, turns, walks into the hotel. All whilst her friend slides behind the wheel, but instead of parking the car and going in too she leaves.

Driving away.

In the car park myself now, three young girls clamber out of a small silver car ahead, none looking older then me. All skinny, two of them very busty, and all wearing an adults fantasy of a school uniform: short tartan skirt, thigh high black stockings twinned with knee high lace up boots, white shirts too small, too tight, and knotted to show off lots of midriff. Each girl is wearing a different coloured tie, loosely knotted.

Setting off inside, giggling their way through some pop song I half recognise, one of them turns. Sees me.

She smiles, I half smile back, receiving a cheeky little wave. A come on? Before they vanish through the doors.

Which I reach a half minute later. Pause to take a breath. Step inside.

Finding a sign, arrows showing the way, another set of double doors, and on the other side.

The Kink Bazaar.

There's a good sized bar, the kind that does food, tables around which there seems to be a constant coming and going of people. Eating, drinking, talking loudly. There are very few other singles, and everyone appears to be openly eying everyone else up.

From the bar a wide corridor leads to a large hall, which leads to another corridor and a second smaller hall, all of which contain stalls.

With limited time, a booked train home, I ignore the bar, for now, and set off browsing.

Completely annihilating my still fairly new credit card by the time I'm done.

Rope first. A priority, a must have. From looking online I know rope isn't everything, but, it's all I want to use. For now.

The Bazaar offers me options, and I settle on thin brown rope, woven with a coarse texture that elicits a shiver when I run a loose fist down the length being offered up to examine. Already cut, being sold in various lengths, the stallholder and me enter into a friendly ten minute haggle. Once it becomes clear to him just how much I'm looking to buy.

And I come away satisfied, my messenger bag now almost full of enough rope to tie up half a football team of Tara's.

Now there's a thought.

Gags, alongside rope the other must have. And here I go a little overboard, a little crazy, too.

Sorry Mr Credit Card.

Because I can't decide on one, I buy all three ballgags that catch my eye: normal sized and black, and from the same stall one sporting a red ball near twice as big.

Fuck.

The third, the ball red again, is a full head harness. There's a black bust on the stall modelling it, which the holder let's me take a photo of, because the harness is just an octopus mass of leather belts going everywhere.

Going to need someone patient to test that out on.

Lastly, on the gag front, I can't resist the strangeness of one which centres around a double ended fake cock, one end, smaller, to fill the mouth of whomever I gag, whilst the other longer cock is, presumably.

For me to bounce up and down on?

Wow.

Turning away from the stall, stuffing the final carrier bag wrapped gag into my now full messenger bag, I suddenly find myself face to face with the lady wearing a straight jacket.

"Hi."
"Um. Hi." Returning her half smile. Up close I can see detail. She's a curvy fourteen, leggings hugging thick thighs, belly pressing against the straight jacket, which belted up behind and underneath I remember, plus the arms of course, wrapped around underneath a pair of C cups.

There's a gold ring through one side of her nose, and two tone brown hair has been tied back, curled ends brushing her shoulders.

By some mutual yet unspoken signal, some subconscious thing, we step back out of the general flow, winding up in a corridor away from the Bazaar, a part of the hotel proper.

Alone.

"So." Leaning back against a wall, eying me up and down. She smiles. "That's a lot of rope you were buying."
"Just," a shrug, feeling happy, "stuff I need."
"Is that right?" Raised eyebrow, a smile as I nod, grin. "Well." Tone becoming playful. "Want to go back to your room and try it out?"
"Oh." Very forward, unexpected despite Tara wasn't shy around the subject either. "Um." Damn. But. "I don't have a room."

She shrugs. No big deal.

Curiosity gets the better of me.

"Why did that other girl drive off and leave you?"
"Oh." Laughing. "It'll be her turn next time."
"Her." Confused. "Turn?"
"We're both more sub." A shrug. "So, we have to take turns."

"Want to try?"
"Try?" Caught off guard, lulled by the silence, surprise bringing out the question even as I realise the answer.

She grins at me, taking a step closer, pushing off the wall.

"Wearing this." Wriggling her arms. "Want to try it out?"
"But." The sudden offer, the turn around from 'I'm a sub' to 'want me to tie you up' is muddling my thoughts. And I've never, yet, been tied up. How do I know there isn't an equal level of thrill to be felt, and had, from being helpless?

"Um." Feeling like a rabbit in headlights as she takes another step, advancing like a threat or promise. A smile forming, growing, on her painted red lips as she no doubt senses, or sees, or both, my rapidly folding will to resist the offer.

And. It's crazy, but despite being strapped up I can feel her dominance growing, sweeping over me. Taking charge.

"Just for an hour." Casual shrug, no big deal. All whilst her eyes glitter, saying no. Longer. "Walk around, see what it's like."
"Well...." Walls and resolve, what little I had since this, being snared, wasn't something I planned for, crumbling. She's stood right in front of me now, pinning me without touching me against the wall.

"You could even wear one of your new gags." She whispers. The words, my fogged brain not connecting that its me, not someone else, she's talking about making helpless, fires a bolt of adrenaline directly down my spine, making my pussy throb at the thought of a tight gag.

Picturing Tara, naked on her bed, the muddle and confusion, my newbie misunderstanding and lack of experience, overlaying that onto this strangers words.

Forgetting it's me she's talking about binding and gagging.

"I...." Ready to agree, to unbuckle her, to offer myself up. Whatever may come of it.

"Free me." Still that teasing whisper, rubbing her chest against mine. "And we can swap that hoodie for this jacket."

Which, because my hoodie is my shield, my protection against the world seeing my body, cuts through the fog.

And maybe she sees my eyes clear, because she steps back, frowns, shrugs.

Blows me a kiss and walks off.

Slightly shaken, not afraid or upset, more surprised by how easily her greater skill had almost ensnared me, I down a couple of vodka cokes at the bar, to calm my heart. Restore control.

I don't want to be tied up?

Right?

Back to shopping.

Tape, a half dozen large black rolls, because I do prefer rope as an idea, but the tape is on offer, and you never know.

A haul of sexy risqué lingerie, some of it shiny black latex. Stuff I'll never wear, but am unable to resist.

A wand vibrator like Tara's, plus two dildos and a couple of butt plugs. A bottle of lube.

Nipple clamps.

And. Finally, despite being in danger of missing my last train home, because by now it's getting late, I find myself loitering at one stall in particular, unable to tear myself away from what I've found.

"Want to try it on?"
"Oh." Yes. But, no. But. "Is it really one size?"
"Yeah." The older, in her forties, lady, nods. "You just tighten everything up to suit."
"Right...." Thinking.

"What are you," looking me up and down, baggy clothes making her wrong, "a twelve?"
"A. Um." Quick smile. "I'm a six."
"No shit?" Giving me another look. "Well." Smiling. "Six."
"Dru."
"Dru." Holding out her hand. "I'm Cassie. And." Shaking her head whilst I shake her hand. "One size won't fit you."

"But." Holding up a finger as my smile drops, because it looks really fucking awesome. "If you'll let me take some measurements, pay half upfront, I'll make you one. Have it ready in a week?" Seesawed hand. "Two. Pay me the rest and I'll ship it out?"
"Please." Grinning now, even managing to stand still whilst Cassie wraps her tape measure around me, up and down, measuring.

Back home, and you'd think I'd be tired after such a long day, so much travelling, but I'm too wired. Everything I've bought is sitting in one corner of my room, begging. Out loud I'd swear. To be used and played with.

So. I fire up the desktop, find bound2play, and make an account.

I register as a Domme, feeling a shiver of the thrill at specifying my preference- brief inner flash back to the corridor, my almost plunge down into sub world, and yes, I don't know if I'll like it, but, I know I love being in charge.

Adding my location, I write whatever feels right, without taking too long, regarding who and what I am. Grinning at the fact I'm openly admitting to near zero knowledge or practice, all but daring, it feels like, someone to come and try me out.

I add a couple of photos, taken with my webcam. Me, still in black hoodie, sat in my black and green gaming chair.

"There." Logging off, closing down and powering off. Yawning, as though the act of offering myself out there were enough to satisfy my cravings, allowing me to power down, sleep.

"Now I've built it." Stripping off, slipping under my duvet. "Let them come."

[GreyLord]

Dru is being very bold. When she registered online, did she give away too much PII (Personally Identifying Information)?

[BlissfulMisery]

Thanks for commenting on my comment of your comment of my story

Time for a comment of a comment of a comment of a comment I suppose. Comment to the fourth power?

Sub space, I believe, isn't that what it's called? That is what I was trying to go for, with Tara drifting off, to imply she's fallen into that sweet sub spot.

Yes, although in Tara's case it would have been perhaps just the vague beginnings of such - feeling relaxed and entranced by the rope and the control being extorted over her. People are different of course, but generally getting to that point takes far more time and effort. But maybe it is different for bondage - I know for some people the experience of being tied or restrained is a very meditative one.

But I will avoid going on a tangent.

-

As for the actual chapter:

Seems Dru is taking her next step into the lifestyle... A bit of an interlude, but a needed one.

Very much the newbie's eagerness. She is obviously enjoying herself*, but of course the question is how long the honeymoon period lasts, until she starts taking it all more seriously. A near miss perhaps with the encounter at the Bazaar - her self-consciousness might have actually been to her benefit.

*Seems her computer setup will now have some competition for her spending money, and at the rate things are going right now, it is going to lose badly.

I'll keep her safe.

Certainly living up to that so far. I suppose we shall have to wait to see how things play out.

[RopeBunny]

Time for a comment of a comment of a comment of a comment I suppose. Comment to the fourth power?

Thank you both for commenting, next chapter below.

[RopeBunny]

007.

It's hard being me.

I want to do this, fly high on a wave of pleasure, see someone tied up, be the one who made it so.

But. The morning after, waking, eyes gliding to the corner of my room: the piled rope and tape, the bag of gags and various sex toys. The heady confidence of last night just.

Poof.

Disappears.

I can be my own worst enemy. Which, before I tied Kel up and discovered an amazing new thing, a drug I'm fast becoming addicted to. For years I was happy, shut away. Just me.

Shit like that becomes habit, something hard to break.

And so my bondage haul sits, unused, almost taunting me at times. It feels like. As does my profile. Sit. I continue day after day to fail the task of logging back in.

Because logging in leads to checking messages, leads to reading, leads to replying, leads to meeting, leads to intimate things.

Too easy. It's easy to say 'tomorrow' and pretend you mean it. To say 'of course I want to play' whilst contenting myself with memories and a wallpaper I spend far too much time zoning out staring at.

I'm a broken record, needing a firm nudge, like the one Tara supplied. A, jump start, to get me in gear.

Enter. Eventually. Jess.

I might tour the whole complex, doing two complete- picking up then dropping off -laps a day, but the majority of the workforce don't actually get mail. Why would we? Big trucks deliver parts to the engineers, which isn't the same thing as mail. It's only the bosses, supervisor level and above, who I visit.

Which includes Jess, who, the same as virtually everyone whose office I walk in, whose desk I pass, doesn't acknowledge me beyond a raised hand. A brief nod.

Which is fine. I'm not exactly a people person, I don't want you to engage me in conversation regarding where you went on holiday, some new restaurant I must try. Being largely ignored is not a problem.

What would she of done, I'll wonder later, after, as the dust settles and I find time to think. Had I not needed to pee, ditching the mailcart against a wall, popping into the bathroom. If not for this, which is hardly something she engineered, how was Jess intending to corner me?

In the stall, door closed, taking care of business, I hear the main bathroom door open and close, the click clack of heeled boots.

But not the sound of a stall door being opened.

Finished, I flush, rebuckle the canvas belt, all that's stopping my black combat trousers from falling down, shrug the red works waterproof back on. Exit the stall.

Coming face to face with Jess, leaning back against the sink opposite my stall, arms crossed.

Waiting.

It's the height I notice first, I've not seen Jess standing before. I'm five four, average for a girl, but she's nearer, at a guess, five ten even without those heels.

Early thirties but looking younger, a toned and tanned size eight with good sized C cups. Black hair, like mine, but Jess's is straight, a stylish cut that doesn't quite reach her shoulders.

A popular joke, one I've heard often repeated around the site, though always in whispered tones, always after a backwards glance, is that Jess's hair is too afraid of her to naturally curl.

Because that's the reputation she has here, so I've heard but have yet to personally see. Jess, sitting pretty high up the company corporate pyramid, taking no shit, getting things done ahead of time and under budget. Ruling all she surveys with an iron fist.

For Jess it's all about the power, and her clothing reflects this.

Always a shirt and tie, today pale blue with black knotted around her neck, and always trousers, never a skirt. Black and tight fitting today, some kind of lace up crotch, tucked into knee high lace up boots.

Man's clothes. Power clothes.

"Mail room girl."
"Jess." Washing in the left hand sink, since she's leaning against the middle of three. I step back around Jess towards the dryer, the noise of which drowns out whatever she tries to say next.

Heading for the main door, turbine winding down, I catch the word. "Week." But nothing more.

Reaching the door, walking into the door, which doesn't move as I pull against the handle. Frowning, I try pulling again. Still nothing.

And it's definitely pull not push, but I try pushing anyway. Maybe some mischievous faeries changed the hinges whilst I was peeing?

No. Of course not.

I frown some more, pulling a third time, gaze drifting down to the keyhole.

It can't be?

Bending, I peer into the crack between door and frame. And, it is. Locked.

What. The. Fuck.

Jess hasn't moved. Coming back around the corner, I find her still leaning against the sink, arms still crossed. Small, knowing, smile on her face.

Her reputation. Ruler, an iron fist, bullying and cowing everyone. Getting her way.

Stopping in front of Jess, hands in my pockets. Out of nowhere, in the pit of my stomach, something bubbles. Not fear. Something.

"Mail room girl."
"Jess." Like deja vu.

"There's going to be mail." Small shrug. "This week or next. A letter for Thorpe."
"Alright." I nod. Not worth locking the bathroom door for, but, fine.

"Bring it to me."

There. Now I see. Four words issued like a command, an order.

She might as well click her fingers too.

Thorpe? A. Guy? Yes. Blonde, young, most likely on the same pyramid step as Jess.

So this is a power play. Jess, rolling over me so she can, in some manner, roll over and outflank Thorpe. And, I don't care what struggles are occurring above me, but.

The bubble multiplies, and I'd swear somewhere deep in my head I hear a growl. Something, waking up, doesn't like being told what to do.

"Or?" Shrugging.

"Or?" Half shouted, flash of disbelief across her face. Is Jess, ever, not obeyed without question?

"S' right." Crossing my own arms, mirroring her right down to the stolen smile. Because as Jess frowns, I feel a sharks grin appearing on my own lips. "Maybe Thorpe gets Thorpe's mail, because. Well." All casual. "That's kind of my job here."

"No." Trying for the whip like bark of command, trying to rule me, to dominate me.

Not.

Grin growing, inside and on my lips.

Fucking.

The shark, me, the new predator in these waters, swallows her attempt whole, spits it out.

Today.

Jess doesn't know, me, what I'm becoming. But, she will.

I'll show her- growl becoming a roar, rising fast, unstoppable -what dominance is.

"What's it worth?"
"Worth?" Coughed out, like half a laugh.

"If I bring yo-"
"When." Talking over me. "You deliver th-"
"If." Talking back over her, resisting the urge to stalk forward. Not yet.

Satisfying to see Jess's mouth drop as I override her.

"If." Pausing. Waiting, our interruptions had both been above normal talking volume, not shouting but forced words. Not polite. Now. I'm back down, calm.

I look at Jess, she, mouth closed, silent. At least for now no longer trying to steamroller me.

Okay.

"You want Thorpe's letter." Sudden, like a vision dropped directly into my core. I know what I'm going to do. Pausing a moment to grin, I continue. "I want something back."
"What?" Flash of anger in her tone.

"Come home with me," Tuesday, Kel comes home late, "today."
"I'm not going to fuck you." Voice too high, prehaps picking up on at least some of what's smoking off me. But she's reading it all wrong.

"No." Shaking my head, calm voice at odds with Jess's angry tones. "But you will. Come home." Nodding, making the decision for us both. "With me."

"Fucks sake." Levering herself off the sink, standing, jabbing a finger at me. "Bring me the letter. Mail room girl." Jess takes a step towards me. "Do as you're fucking told."

Now.

Now I step in, meeting Jess halfway, her eyes going wide at my sudden advance, wider still as not stopping, I use my body to push and force her back against the sink.

Reaching. Wrapping Jess's tie around my clenched fist, yanking her upper body forwards, bringing her face down to mine.

Weeks buried desire to dominate and control suddenly right here, in this room. Running rampant and free as I pit my will against hers, unwilling to back down. This. Now. Her. I will have her.

Jess gasps, hands falling to her sides. Not pushing me away, not shouting in my face.

Losing the advantage.

Yanking her across the final distance I force Jess's lips to mine. Kiss her, hard. Taking ownership.

A muffled squeel, Jess's body locks.

She might even, maybe, simply knock me out. The thought, floating by, knowledge of the corporate line I've almost certainly not just crossed but scrubbed out and refused to give back. I'm likely breaking over a dozen workplace rules here, not to mention you should really ask before asserting will over another.

But Jess didn't, wasn't going to, ask.

And anyway I can't make it all, the myriad potential bad consequences of what I'm rushing towards, matter.

This. I'm doing this. Decision made, the beast inside, I'm not sure I could stop myself now even if I did want to.

And then none of that matters, because Jess, tentatively, slowly, begins to kiss me back.

Separating, keeping Jess's tie in my fist. Her lips, for a second she's still kissing me back, eyes closed.

I wait, watching, long lashes fluttering, eyes opening, finding mine. Will she, now, fight me?

Is it straight back to shouting.

Prehaps, Jess reaching behind her, retrieving her two way radio, she'll call for backup. Have me dismissed, marched off the premises.

I should care, but, deep in the grip of my reawakened dominance, I can't make myself care.

"Tower Bravo." Voice off, faint. "Seven here. Copy?"

Releasing the button, a burst of static. Radio between us, Jess unable to pull away, should she want to. We. I. Wait.

"Tower Bravo receiving." A guys voice. Tower, call sign for the control tower next to the runway, inside which are located Alpha, in charge of inbound and outbound flights. And Bravo, stationed on the towers ground floor. The control room.

I have a radio too, due to the mobile nature of the job. My call sign being Mail Thirty.

"Go ahead Seven. Over."
"I'm in Echo. First floor."

Jess pauses, briefly, for seconds, for forever, as I wait to see whether she's about to pull rank and bury me.

Still can't make it matter, but, I wait. Curious.

"The mail room girl needs to go home. So." Flick of the tongue, out and across her top lip. "I'm taking her home. The mailcart round needs finishing though. Over."
"Understood Seven. Will you be back in? Over."

Jess presses the button, opens her mouth. "I." Stops.

Releases the button, tongue flicking out over her lips again, gaze finding mine.

Swallowing as I shake my head. No.

"Negative. Um. Tower Bravo. I'll close down though. Understood? Over."
"Confirm, Seven. No action required. Tower Bravo out."

"Do you have...." Reaching behind her, replacing the radio. Distracted. "How do you ge...."

Stopped in her tracks as my free hand runs across her breast. A too loud, sudden, clatter, a shock in the small bathroom. Jess's radio, fumbled, dropped, striking and bouncing off the floor, back panel flying off.

"I walk."
"Right." Shiver chasing itself across her. Jess nods. "Well. Um." Thoughtful. "Fifteen minutes. Outside the Shed?"

By way of answer I nod, slowly releasing Jess's tie. But not stepping back, forcing her to squeeze between me and the sink, to escape, her firm chest brushing mine.

Gaze darting up, back, surprise as she, I imagine, feels the size and firmness of my own large breasts.

I- not shy, not right now, full of confidence and the rush of dominance -grin.

Follow Jess out of the bathroom, after she- naughty -unlocks the door.

Leave my cart against the wall, return to the Shed.

Buildings here have names too, call signs like people: Echo, the main building. Hangers One through Five, although Four is referred to as the Smokehouse. The Shed, where deliveries come in. My base.

Picking up my empty lunchbag, my bottle, unable to stop grinning, almost light headed at what I'm making happen. I hear a rising howl, sudden build and equally suddenly cut off.

Frowning. What the fuck? I walk out from under the raised shutter doors, discovering something yellow parked outside, bubbling away at idle, it's sleek low lines, lack of back seats and high rear spoiler. This car and Tara's share nothing in common.

Through the open drivers window, Jess, tinted aviators on her face, one hand on the wheel. Not looking at me.

Mouth set in a thin line.

So. Fifteen minutes, and she's regrouped.

Round two then, because, having had that time to myself too, my desire and want. To do this, to win the fight and claim my prize. Her. Feeling around inside as I cross in front of Jess's yellow beast, I find my own beast still prowling.

Still hungry.

"Look." Jess. Talking even as I shut the door, marvelling at how the seat I've half fallen into, not expecting it to be so fucking low, can grip me so tightly. "Just so we're clear."

Pausing. Waiting? I turn my head, find her staring at me, my own mirrored reflection looking back in her shades.

Ring the bell.

"I'm only driving you home." Nodding, to herself? "I want that letter. And, wh-"
"You." Voice raised, nowhere near shouting, but, louder then hers.

Turning my body, pivoting to the right. She's still looking at me, mouth working silently.

I attack.

"Talk too much." Reaching, not far at all in this small car. Jess sits, frozen, only her chest rising, falling, too fast for someone calm. Not stopping me, batting my hand away, shouting. No defence as I take hold of her tie again, up near the knot, tugging.

Bringing Jess's face closer.

"Maybe I need to use this," raised eyebrow, "to gag you?"

"I...." I can, in her eyes now she's closer, seeing through the tint on her shades, almost see the walls she patched back up crumble and fall back down. "You...."
"Drive." Letting go, turning back to face the front, pointing towards the main gate. "I'll," turn my head back, wink, "gag you once we get there."

Mouth dropping open, Jess swallows.

Puts her car in gear. Drives.

[GreyLord]

Wondterful writing about someone not accustomed to ascertaining dominance doing so. We have to hope she doesn't become a monster in the process.

[RopeBunny]

Wonderful writing about someone not accustomed to ascertaining dominance doing so.

Thank you

Had to go back in and rewrite this chapter. Hard, I found, I'm so used to having someone more sub (Plymouth) as the centre, it was/is a challenge to write a Domme without going too deep or dark.

I want her, Dru, to be in charge, but not to just bark orders or run through every girl like a battering ram.

[GreyLord]

...
I want her, Dru, to be in charge, but not to just bark orders or run through every girl like a battering ram.

You are doing this very well.

[BlissfulMisery]

Hope it does not turn out poorly for her...

Although being honest, it is hard to say she would not deserve it if it did. Using one consent violation as an excuse for another is questionable at best, especially when the two things being compared are not really equivalent anyways.

Plus being 'in charge' is much like actual real world leadership - to do it well, one must care about the people they are in charge of. This is... some form of revenge for what is a small slight in the grand scheme of things.

is a challenge to write a Domme without going too deep or dark.

Well, I do not know about deep, but I would say there is already a bit of darkness in this 'new' Dru. Perhaps she will grow out of it in time.


All of that aside, definitely a battle of wills, one that she seems to have won, although I suspect there may be more resistance once Jess has a chance to get her bearings once again. A very unique situation to be sure.

[RopeBunny]

but I would say there is already a bit of darkness in this 'new' Dru. Perhaps she will grow out of it in time.

I've read Batman comics where, yes of course he's super physically fit and trained in everything. But, I've read comics where reference is made to something inside of him. Something dark and restless, the bat, some form of spirit which claimed Bruce as a boy when he fell into/discovered the cave.

I've always loved the imagery and general idea of something dark inside, a living thing clamouring to be free.

Sure I've used it as a concept before, and can't resist it so have done so again with Dru.

[RopeBunny]

008.

"What is this anyway?"
"Porsche nine eleven." Jess shifts down a gear, engine barking, something popping three times at the back. "It's the G T two model, but." Pausing to shift back up, weaving through traffic. "I've had it tweaked to be more." A shrug. "You know."
"So." Clueless about cars. Which means I don't. Know. "Basically, it's a Porsche."
"Sure." Glancing, finding a quick smile on Jess's lips. "Just a Porsche."

"I went to Spain last summer."
"O. Kay?"
"Barcelona." Throwing her car around a tight curve at speed, but you wouldn't know it. I feel as though we're on rails the Porsche sits so solidly on the road. Like Tara Jess drives fast, however her car makes for a totally different experience.

"It was...."

I look over, but she's just. Dried up. We've been talking in fits and starts the whole drive. Talking, but saying nothing.

"You live alone?"

Walking the four flights of stairs, Jess's car left in a visitors bay, I pause on one of the small mid level landings, turn around. Jess still climbing behind me.

"No. Kel. Um." Up on the landing too, Jess stops. It's a small landing, so, we're suddenly very close together. "Kelly White, in Hanger Five. We rent it together."
"Right." Quick nod. Having leaned against the wall, she's back beside me, clearly unsure what to do. "She's your friend?"
"Well." Mouth compressing into a frown. "No. Not really."
"But. Then...." Frowning too. "Why?"

"Cheaper to live with someone. And." Setting off again. "I'd heard she was looking. So."
"So...." Pausing, I don't look back, I wait. And. "Why not rent with a friend instead?"
"If I had any."
"Oh?"

We carry on in silence. Through my front door, down the hallway, into my room.

"That's a lot of books." Eyes roaming my room, lingering on my unmade bed. I smile, crossing behind her. She hasn't clocked my Kink Bazaar haul, out of which I pull the black, normal sized, ballgag and a scarf.

"Open your mouth."
"What?" I'm stood behind her, close behind. Jess twitches, quick shiver through her body, click of her head to one side, turning to look, stopping herself and back to facing front.

"Open." One hand around each side of her head, now holding the ballgag dangled between them, where she can see it. "Your mouth."
"I...." Licking her lips. I move the gag, bringing the rubber ball against them. Gently pressing.

Jess opens her mouth. Another small surrender, and after buckling the gag tight I use the scarf to blindfold her, it's thick dark red wool. Perfect.

Head cocked, following the sound of my boots on the carpet, walking a half circuit, coming to stand in front.

"Strip."
"Fffppmmm-" Stopping suddenly, mid attempt at forming legible words, Jess reaches up to touch the ballgag.

"Ffhhmm gggghmmm mmmfff."
"I think you sound better this way."
"Mmmffffpppp." Blush spreading across her cheeks, I run my own finger around the edge of the ball, doing a lap of Jess's red painted lips.

"Ffffmmmmmmm." Like a sigh. Quiet. Before, slowly, reaching up. Loosening her tie.

I step back. Watching as the company bully, the iron ruler, submits. To me.

Shirt follows tie, discarded at her feet, revealing rounded breasts in a pink bra with white lace cups, the dark shadowed buds of Jess's nipples within.

And then the bra comes off too. Breasts doing a little bounce.

Hanging like ripe fruit moments later as Jess bends forward, working on her lace up boots.

After which her trousers and the matching pink lace boyshorts follow.

Jess stands, naked. In my room. Hands fidgeting, fingers making fists, playing invisible piano keys, lifting up onto the ball of each foot in turn.

Her tan is all over save for three small triangles, one over each nipple, covering a small patch of each breast, plus a third doing likewise on her crotch, which is shaved.

Funny. I almost laugh, at the way her not quite full tan now serves to highlight certain spots.

Jess's body is perfectly toned, I can't see an once of fat, her belly is flat, and well defined muscles stand out on arms and legs.

There is, I step closer to investigate, a single piece of ink on her. A list of racetracks. Le Man's. Silverstone. Nurburgring. Monza. Spa Francorchamps. Others, all listed vertically from breast to waist on her right side, in gothic script, and each with an impressively low timestamp next to it.

"Are these," tracing one name with a long fingernail, making Jess shiver, "you?"
"Ggghhhpppp mmfffmmm." Small nod.

Tracing the lowest set of numbers, the fastest time, enjoying the contact, the feel of Jess's smooth skin. Liking what I'm clearly doing to her, breath becoming shallow, breasts rising and falling, almost hypnotic in itself for me, a girl who does like girls, but- yes okay Tara and Kel, sort of Kel -hasn't really been this close to someone so. Naked. In a long time.

Finger skating, drawing, each number in turn, I have a mini revelation.

"These." Going down onto my knees at Jess's side, face level with the tattoo. "They're tracks you did with the." Damn, forgot what she called it, the full bells and whistles name. "Porsche?"
"Gghhhfffmmm." Nod.

Leaning in I lick, run my tongue, diagonally up the inked list, from bottom corner beside Jess's butt to top corner dangerously close to her breast.

"Mmmgggggffffff." Hands balled into fists, head tilted back, upper thighs pressed, rubbed, together.

I smile, about to go again, to tease and enjoy myself some more. But. That, this, wasn't the plan.

So.

"Wrists." Moving on.

Jess, no protest, holds them out. Crossed. I smile, not this time, how hard can it be, and move them side by side. Picking up a rope from the pile I've dumped on my bed, getting to work.

Fluffing it up. A simple rookie mistake. I halved the rope, wrapped it, changing direction, yanking things tight.

Smile as Jess's breath catches.

But there isn't enough left to run between her wrists, sealing everything up. So, unwrap, loosen. Begin again.

Except Jess moves, one hand slipping back through that first contracting loop, reaching up, scratching her nose.

I. Stop. The loop still open. And frown. Is she being difficult? Or is this, after such an easy ride, Jess fighting back?

All this, the gagging and stripping, I'd been expecting more resistance. In the bathroom it had been her will and mine, a real fight, it had felt like, for dominance. And, yes, I won. Jess, here, the state of her, is proof of her surrender. To me. But, I'd been expecting another war as my plans became clear.

To her.

Is this the beginning of that?

No.

Watching, disbelieving. Jess, feeling her way, replaces her wrist in the loop. Stands still, waiting.

Willingly submitting?

I don't fluff the tie a second time.

"Sit." Gently pushing to emphasise the command, Jess, complying, lowers herself into my gaming chair, wheeled up behind her.

As she does I walk around the side, trailing slack of the wrist rope in one clenched fist, forcing Jess's arms up and over.

I bind her in place.

Arms bent at the elbow above her head, forearms plunging down behind, wrists tied off way down at the base. Thighs, above each knee, tied off to separate armrests, the vertical part at the front, forcing Jess's legs wide apart. Lastly ankles, her lower legs bent backwards towards the centre support underneath, tied off to it.

She squirms. Not whilst I'm binding each limb, remaining still. Letting me work? More submission? Jess squirms after, testing her new and developing lack of movement.

Done. Finished. I step back, able to take it all in, what I've succeeded in doing. Having some trouble believing that it, Jess, naked and gagged, bound to my gaming chair, is real.

How is this real?

Because she looks stunning. Sexy. Fucking amazing.

Sudden and rising panic, doubt. Surely this bubble will burst at any moment, surely Jess will wake to her senses, shout me down, leave. Far from being just some girl she's strong willed, assertive. Somehow, by some trick, I've caught her, made her mine.

But it can't, won't, last.

For ten minutes I stare at her. Sitting helpless in my chair, breasts and pussy, flashes of pink, on display.

Fighting the feeling I may as well free her now, end this, let Jess leave and go back to staring at my Tara wallpaper.

I may as well.

As well.

.

No.

I did this. I, because I fought her, and won, I made this happen. I pitted my will against the schoolyard bully and she lost.

She, even if never again, for now. Is mine.

I will not waste this moment. I will have her, I will exert my will, have my fun.

And fuck whatever happens after.

Smiling. Nodding. The beast re-emerging, ready, I approach Jess, doing a couple of happy victory spins on the way.

Time to play.

Which means, initially, enjoying Jess's squirms and moans. Time spent simply watching her naked body move, or not. Breasts heaving up and down, small bounces side to side if she wriggles. Jess's crotch, wide open legs showing everything.

It's, she's, a pleasant sight.

Periodically, stepping carefully, slowly, quietly, closer. I blow on a nipple, or across her pussy. I run a long fingernail or three across her shoulder and down one arm, or across her breasts, circling around and down, bypassing her pussy, though straying close, ending at her ankle.

Once, unable to not, giving in to my desire, I kiss her. Just a peck on her gagged lips.

And then it's time to move on.

"Hi." Smiling. Jess, blinking as I toss her blindfold away. "Are we having fun?"
"Ffgggmmm pphhhhfff mmm." Not loud like a protest, quiet, almost a moan. And, as she moans, saliva bubbles out between ball and lower lip, spilling free.

Coming around in front, one hand on each chair arm, I lean in, licking the drool away.

"Mmmffffggmmm." Sighing, eyes closed. As I pull away, standing back up, Jess wriggles her chest at me.

"What?" Coming back in, loving the surge of power, the feeling, this position gives me. Face close to her gagged face, almost looming in. So close yet she can't touch me.

"Something I can do for you?"
"Fffmmmgggg."
"Another." Licking her ballgag. "Kiss?"
"Mmmmmmmfffpppgggmmmm."
"Or maybe." Instead of words I act, bending further, licking Jess's erect budded nipple

Arching her back as I stand back up, pulling away.

Fetching a half dozen different coloured permanent markers from off my desk.

Which I use, Jess watching, helpless to stop me, covering her from ankles to neck to wrists, every part of her usually concealed underneath those power clothes she favours, in words.

Power words. I write Slut, and Slave, often. Bitch. Sometimes adding the word rope. I use the C word, which I personally hate, often. Thrilling at the tingle doing so gives me. I cover Jess in swearing, and worse, scrawling 'I belong to Mistress Dru' in four different places.

I defile her, and love every moment, crotch quickly becoming damp, nipples hardening, my pulse quickens and a tingle chases its tail up then down my spine.

Jess too is far from immune. Each time I look up I find her gaze fixed on what I'm doing, her breathing is faint, slow. Her own nipples a mirror of mine, her pussy shiny with arousal. Wet.

It will, of course, all wash off. But not easily or quickly. Not overnight, maybe not even three days from now.

Finished, signing my name way way up Jess's inner left leg, right up against her pussy lips. I step back, and take photos on my phone, capturing Jess's submission whilst she stares at me, moaning quietly. Powerless.

Mine.

I leave her there, tied up, for another half hour. I don't touch her, don't acknowledge her.

Do my best in fact to read, sat on my bed, back resting against the headboard and legs crossed. The Three, by Sarah Lotz, continuing the horrorathon with a new purchase.

Unable to not glance up often, each time I find Jess, her chair facing me, sat still, watching me.

Waiting, for me. Because what else can she do? The power here is all mine, not hers. And it may never be again, but for now she has no choice but to submit to my will, to wait for me to decide to free her.

"Get dressed." Finally removing the wrist ropes. Freeing her legs, I'd told Jess to stand, and had proceeded to write a whole paragraph across and down her back, dictating as I went, my choice of words almost contract like as I promised to deliver Thorpe's mail to her. I'd ended with a quickly sketched skull and crossed swords, a pirate symbol drawn on her left butt cheek.

"But not these." Swiping Jess's lingerie off the rough pile of her clothes I'd placed on the bed, I dangle them between us. "These, I'm keeping as." Mouth breaking into a grin. "A trophy."

Jess looks, kind of overwhelmed, not all there. Like someone who still has one foot in a dream as she slips into trousers and boots, shirt, feeding the tie through her collar but making no attempt to knot it.

At my front door, having walked out, Jess turns. Pauses. Facing me as I face her.

Opening her mouth, closing it again. Frowning.

Does she want something?

"Drive safely." Because the silence, Jess standing there still like a girl lost, is stretching on. So, I speak, nod.

Jess opens her mouth again, moves as though she's going to come closer.

For a- fucking doubt it, but, still, almost as though she wants a -kiss?

Stops herself. Blinks, slowly. Reaches up to brush a hand inside her untucked shirt, across the graffiti I've covered her in.

She smiles, small, something human surfacing on her face, making it through the fog. Nods. "Okay."

Turns, walks away.

And of course that night I can't sleep. Jess's photos are on my desktop, though, for now at least, Tara's still my wallpaper. Although, I grin, nod, and roll out of bed, slipping on a baggy red hoodie as I sit down on my gaming chair, powering the computer back up.

Setting the best photo of Jess as my phones wallpaper whilst I wait.

Finally, only two plus change weeks late, I log back into bound2play, and check my messages, finding Tara heading up nearly fifty.

Damn.

At least half though, as I read through, are crap. Nonsense writing, demands for nude photos or single sentences telling me they want a fuck.

Well. No.

Leaving Tara, for a moment, I reply to the half dozen others who made sense, or made me smile. Men and woman. Profiles with a decent amount of detail, a polite message sent.

People in the same country, and not a stupid distance away from where I live within that country.

With the housekeeping done, my inbox tidy, well thought out paragraphs winging their digital way back to the half dozen, I open Tara's message.

'From: bikinisub16
To: midnightgoth

Dru, because I can see it's you, so. Hi. Lol

Cool username btw.

So.... Um.... I had fun, but, after, I kinda stay floating for awhile, means I forget stuff like saying thanks.

Did I say thanks? And, that it was crazy wild amazing lol

Thing is....

Want to do it (with me lol) again?

Tara xx'

I read it through again, smiling. She had seemed. Distant. Afterwards, we hadn't really talked, and I wasn't expecting cuddles or anything like that, but, the quiet had got me worried.

Of course now, having just enjoyed myself with Jess, I know I'm not doing anything wrong.

So. She wants to play some more huh? Well....

'From: midnightgoth
To: bikinisub16

Tara.

What happened to the other fifteen bikini subs? Can't you just, maybe, eliminate them one by one, claim the top spot Highlander style? Lol

Want some help with that? Lol.

And where was my bikini? Hmmmm? I mean, yes, you looked super duper cute in that bra and thong (cuter out of it wink wink x) but I kinda feel cheated.

Gunna need to see something of the micro variety now, make up for it.

Got it!!?!!!

What I mean is. Sure. We can play again. BUT.

BUT.

You know which bench is mine, and, I'll be there all week, same as usual. But if I see you, it better be in a bikini.

Love, and kisses of course lol. Dru the bitch x'

Tingling by the time I hit send, heart fast in my chest, clicking the mouse quickly lest I back down from the blatantly dominant things I've just written.

Feeling bold, on a high after Jess, after sending so many messages, all variations on the theme of 'here I am come get me' but in a more dominant sense. So, come get me so I can have my fun, with you, I guess.

Ha.

Bold. Still feeling a background tingle, taking its time fading, I cross the room to my piled haul, and pick out some lingerie.

Something fun and kinky, to wear under my baggy clothes. Something for me, a hidden secret like my ink, like my inflated breasts.

Shutting down the computer I eye up the bed, it really is late.

But, I'm glad I just did all that, setting several balls rolling, online. And Jess of course, likely a one shot one time thing, but so much fun.

I'm. Happy. Determined now, having found my desire, the want and will to do this rope thing. Having rediscovered it, I will not allow or let it fade again.

I will keep going forwards, up the hill, following the winding path.

Seeing where it all leads.

[GreyLord]

What a happy path for her to follow.

[BlissfulMisery]

I've always loved the imagery and general idea of something dark inside, a living thing clamouring to be free.

In a way, that is the essence of all this, is it not? A dark part inside, almost a hunger. Hunger, or perhaps desire? Desire to dominate, desire to submit, desire to cause pain, feel pain, to please another...

Why is it like this? Well there is no clear answer, but perhaps that is part of the reason to write the stories. To explore that darkness, that hunger, that desire.


And speaking of that, an amazing chapter. One can feel the energy between the two, so intense, yet so enticing. Each hesitates at first, but eventually embraces their role - to control, or to surrender respectively.

Jess looks, kind of overwhelmed, not all there. Like someone who still has one foot in a dream as she slips into trousers and boots, shirt, feeding the tie through her collar but making no attempt to knot it.

Perhaps she is not the only one. A perfect description in what is a chapter with a lot of standouts.

Bodywriting is something that I do not really remember seeing on this board before, but you have definitely expertly filled that gap. A very physical way to express the dynamic, one that is arguably too often overlooked.

Once again, a standout chapter. The previous was... uneasy, but the payoff is certainly there in this one.

[RopeBunny]

Once again, a standout chapter. The previous was... uneasy, but the payoff is certainly there in this one.

Ideally I would've combined them into one, but as I wrote the first, Jess and Dru battling wills, it became clear I'd need to split things.

Way too bloated otherwise, or else I'd of had to cut a large amount of the talking and non TUGs related stuff, and I didn't want to do that.

What a happy path for her to follow.

Hopefully it will remain so.

[RopeBunny]

009.

"I think this is called being super keen?" I comment, voice raised to carry the distance. Tara, red blush sweeping across both cheeks as she approaches, holds her arms out wide. Shrugs.

It's the next day, barely twelve hours since I replied to Tara's flirty message with something slightly more.

Demand filled.

Speaking of which.

"Have we checked our messages?" No real need to ask, I know she's read my reply, because when I logged in, on my phone walking in this morning, half my sent messages had disappeared from the outbox. Including Tara's.

No need, but I ask anyway. Playing the game.

"Yes." At the bench now, lunchbag and drink in one hand, Tara nods.

"Show me then." Injecting a slight deep tone, not a bark but more an order then a request. Letting my inner Domme out, just a little. Waved gesture at her curvy shirt and leggings clad body, I smile. "You came, so show me."

Like a dare, the continuation of a dare, where she said can we play so I said only if you wear a bikini, so here she is, so, is she?

Could be she isn't. Wearing a bikini, and that's okay, because I don't have any real control here. It's all a game. I'm aware, in the sense I've done some reading, that it- making demands of others, controlling them -can all go so very much deeper. Control can be given up, transferred. But, right now, with Tara. This is just fun.

Deeper. Is that, flash of recent memory, words scrawled across firm toned flesh, eye contact as she watched me, let me. And here I am back in work the next day, not immediately called before the boss, not dismissed. So. Did I go deeper, with Jess?

Honestly, I don't know.

So. Is she, Tara, complying? And, if she isn't, does that mean- sudden thought, fighting to suppress a grin as it occurs -that I get to force a forfeit out of the fact she. Kinda. Disobeyed me?

Putting her lunch on the bench, beside mine, Tara, gaze skating all around but not on me, opens her black shirt from the collar, the two halves spreading apart as her D cups push forwards, out, allowing me to see.

"Very." Breath catching, because, damn. "Good."

It's not a bikini you could wear to the local pool. Each narrow bottomed triangle is lime green edged in black, rising and thinning, becoming black cord up and around, behind Tara's neck, with more cord at the bottom looping behind her back. The triangles cover her nipples, but not much else.

"So." Voice quiet. Tara coughs, smiles, managing something more normal on her second attempt. "Do I pass muster?"
"Well...." Looking pointedly at Tara's crotch.

"Later." Blush returning. "Um. That is.... If...."
"Later." Nodding. A game, remember. She says not now, I can play along, and wait.

However.

"Leave it open." Tara, freezing in the act of closing her shirt, eyes widening and mouth opening as she looks up. Finding me looking serious. Pushing, testing limits.

Eyes darting left and right, Tara, frozen a handful of moments longer, blush colouring, spreading. Dropping her hands, sitting down, but sideways, back and butt pushed against the bench arm, body, and therefore her open shirt front, her quite visible breasts, facing me, one leg resting along the bench, heel clad foot invading my half.

It's a nice day, sunny. No danger of her getting cold.

"I didn't think you'd reply."
"I was. It. Um." Shrugging, not wanting to finish the sentence, to explain, try to explain.

Across from me Tara smiles, nods. Something like understanding despite my not having explained. Or maybe it's one of those 'all is well' nods? She takes another bite of sandwich, I stare at my half finished apple, debating whether to throw it or have another bite.

"I bought stuff."
"Yeah?" Grinning at my grin. "Rope and shit?"
"Stuff." Nodding. Tossing the apple towards and underneath a bush. "Figured I should."
"Well." Swallowing some drink, waving the bottle like someone in a pub. "That's awesome."

"Was that an invite then?" Down to a packet of Wotsits, being nibbled one at a time. I've already refused three, but took one. Being polite, although prehaps that, accepting the first, is why she keeps offering?

"Um." Tara. In my bedroom in my flat. "I mean...."
"I'll help you test all this new stuff out." Glancing down at her exposed chest, back up at me. Grinning, dropping a wink my way. "Give you some more pointers."
"Well. Um. The thing is...."

The thing is. Kel isn't working late today, or going anyplace except home after work. Because she'd told me so. Kel's planning on watching the new Marvel offering, released today.

I know this because she told me whilst she was drinking coffee, grimacing, and I was downing my morning glass of water.

She had asked if I wanted to join her.

Which, watching Marvel, which, remember I don't watch. Anything really. Isn't why I pause. It's the idea of Kel in the flat, whilst Tara and me are doing things I'm, for reasons I still haven't figured out but feel are important, keeping secret from Kel.

"Excellent." Apparently taking my lapse into silence as a yes, Tara stands up, closing her shirt. "Car park after work?"
"Well." I'm trying to keep a secret, you see, and I'm worried that Kel will see you, and ask questions I don't want to answer. Or that we'll make a noise, somehow, and she'll hear, and find out, although I still don't know why I don't want her to find out. So.

"Um." I nod. "Okay. Sure."
"Great." Blushing and smiling, Tara gives me a thumbs up, leaves.

At least this time I know which car to seek out. And. It's funny. I know, I remember, Tara drives fast, but, after the Porsche it all just seems so.

Slow.

"This is. Um." Smiling despite myself. "Kel's space."
"Yeah?" Still reversing into my flats designated spot, which of course Kel uses, except we've beaten her home. Tara grins. Shrugs. "Isn't it your space too?"
"Well...."
"Exactly." Shutting off the engine. Nodding. "Come on, things to do, girls to tie up." Opening her door, laughing. Only slightly nervous. "All that."

Upstairs, in my flat, Tara walks off in front, finding my room by way of opening every door she comes to, peering inside, eventually announcing.

"Well fuck me." Striding forwards, I smile, following her into my room, kicking the door closed behind us, flicking the lock.

Finding her, as I turn back around, already elbows deep in my piled haul. "You never said you bought the whole damn shop."
"Ha." Stepping out of loosely laced boots, dumping my red waterproof over the gaming chair. "Just wanted to be prepared."
"For what?" Turning to face me, a whole handful of coiled rope dangling from one fist. "Binding the local ice hockey team?"

I grin, Tara grins back, dropping the rope, rummaging some more.

"This." Tossing the full harness gag, all black tentacle looking belts, up onto my bed. "And these." Two handfuls of rope, one from my Kink Bazaar pile, plus what she'd dropped onto the floor. I giggle. "And these too." Nipple clamps, plus a butt plug and the dildo. All of it bouncing onto the unmade mess of my bunched pale blue duvet.

Tara stands, an uncoiled rope in her hand.

"Right." Advancing. On me. "Let's have a go."

Surprised. I'm not expecting, am not ready, for Tara to attempt binding me. I'm relaxed, calm, lulled. Not expecting it, so, I don't, on some level, even realise she is.

But she is. Binding me.

"What?" Half turning my body, feeling the unfamiliar pinch of rope at wrists, arms force held behind me already by the loops tightly wrapping one after the other. "Hey."
"What?" Playful, not bossy. Behind me Tara carries on.

Tying me up.

"Well. I...." Voice running out as Tara yanks something tight, the jerk to my limbs, the new sensation, causing a sudden throb in my crotch, a tingle of definitely not disgust in my belly.

"Up on the bed." Giving my combat trousers clad butt a light swat. "Let's get you hogtied."

Tingle growing, the thought to say no or argue not even anywhere close, I climb awkwardly up onto the bed, falling forwards onto my belly.

Laying still, I feel Tara climb up beside me. Turning my head to the side I watch, seeing her unwrap a second rope, bend forwards, feeling the coarse texture wrap around my bare ankles.

More yanking, more pinching. I bite my lip to prevent a moan escaping. My crotch, damp now, the tingles in my belly having spread to my breasts, infecting both nipples.

"Aaaand." Zoned out, Tara's voice brings me back moments before, with a tugging jerk, my legs are forcibly bent at the knee, my ankles pulled towards my wrists as though each were a magnet. "Contact." Sounding happy as I feel, with my questing fingers, the heels of both feet.

Jerking, wrists and ankles. I try to relax my legs but can't, Tara has secured the hogtie tight, pinning my limbs together.

"There." Pushing, rolling me onto one side. And I can't stop her, am. Powerless? I'm now facing the middle of the bed, Tara climbing over me, flopping down beside me on the empty half, laid on her back.

She stretches, looks over at me. Grins.

"I'll gag you in a moment."
"Oh."

Not. Are you okay? Or, may I gag you. I could say no though. I.

Attempt to stretch too, tugging wrists up towards my shoulders, feet up and away. Or, that's the plan.

What happens is that wrists and ankles remain tightly pressed together, I feel my complete lack of muscles lock up, strain. Begin very quickly to ache. What happens is the act of stretching only moves one part of me. My chest, which arches out towards Tara, almost like a thrust.

I could say no. I could say please let me go. I could.

"Okay."

I say, the ropes, my helplessness, somehow fucking with my clear intentions on the way here to tie Tara up and enjoy myself. Content instead now to lay here, hogtied.

Feeling a background buzz of anticipation at the thought of that octopus looking harness gag enveloping my face at some point.

Arms crossed under her head, Tara stares up at my ceiling, a quick nod as I answer.

Next to her I try not to squirm, try to remain still too. But it's hard. Being bound doesn't lend itself, I'm finding, to not moving. The ropes dig into my limbs, which, my body, is bent and held in an unfamiliar position, not entirely a comfortable one.

It isn't painful. The ropes are tight. And they pinch, but not so badly that I can't stand it.

No. Instead the pain, such as it is, feels. Good? It's a tingle, a, reminder of my helplessness. My discomfort is a different kind of buzz to what I felt whilst in charge of Tara and Jess. And the discomfort means I'm forever wriggling and tugging at my bonds, trying to change position. Looking for something less tight and always finding no slack.

"Where are you going?"
"Well." Rolling off my bed, standing. Opening her shirt. "I almost forgot," giving me a smile, "that I promised."

Tara strips out of shirt, dark blue leggings, and heels, bringing that tiny green and black bikini top back out to play, plus it's matching tiny thong with tie sides friend. The amount of the thong not simply string is limited to a single patch over Tara's pussy. She may as well not even be wearing it, it's that small.

Naked, as good as, she comes back onto the bed, and with a cheeky grin picks up the dildo.

Glass, clear but with some multi shades of green pattern swirling inside, trapped. It's prehaps eight inches long, a good thickness, with a wide rounded base.

Breath catching, heart missing a beat then resuming at twice normal speed as Tara rolls over to face me, bringing the glass cock up to my lips.

Rubbing the tip against them. Teasing. The same manoeuvre I pulled on both her and Jess with a ballgag.

Tentative, I kiss, peck, the bulbous tip. Tara, smiling, her own breathing changing, becoming shallow, changes the angle, pressing the tip between my lips. Not forcing, but insistent, her wishes clear.

A homing missile locked on.

I kiss it again, mouth opening to accept the smooth length inside, arousal growing.

Squirm inside my tight hogtie. The one guy I've slept with recieved exactly one- drunken -blow job off me, an act which I barely remember beyond the strange taste and feel of cock, thick, rough, filling up my mouth. Followed shortly afterwards by the second strange taste: cum, a sudden splashed jet against the back wall of my throat.

Kissing becomes sucking, unable to suppress the occasional moan.

Lighting up my pussy. A throb, a tingle.

Tara, sliding the cock from my mouth, moves. Rolling onto her back but reaching out, hooking an arm around me, pulling and guiding me close.

I wriggle, bounce, across the bed. Complying.

Held in place, on my side and pressed up against Tara as she begins slowly fucking herself with the dildo.

Turning her head to the side. Kissing me.

Moaning. Tara. Me. Kissing and her climbing steadily upwards care of the glass cock, me, becoming caught in the moment, Tara's moans almost acting as catalyst, her being horny making me horny. I can't stop wriggling, doing my hogtied best to dry hump Tara's leg.

And all the while we're kissing, between moans. Becoming louder.

Out of nowhere there's a banging at my bedroom door.

"Dru?" Shouted.

Bang. Kel doesn't tend to knock quietly. Bang.

"You home?"

Eyes going wide as I hear my handle turn, forgetting it's locked until I hear the rattle of door against frame. My gaze darts back to Tara, who, with a sigh, untangles herself from me.

Thud as, presumably, the dildo is dropped onto my floor.

"Dru?"
"Yeah." Voice breaking. Tara snorts out a quiet laugh. I try again. "I'm home."
"Why is your door locked?"
"I." Jolt of contact, my body literally jumps off the bed, landing with a bump. It feels like. As Tara reaches across, slipping a hand up inside my baggy tee, onto my skinny belly. "It just." Swallow. Get a grip. "What do you want?"

"There's a car in my space."
"Oh. Well. Maybe i...." Without warning Tara, kneeling beside me now- playful fire of arousal and a horny want born of the mutual thing we just shared in her eyes -takes hold of my baggy dark blue tee, yanking it up over my head to puddle behind me, my arms still inside the sleeves.

Exposing me.

"Fuuuuck...?" Like an exhale, Tara, staring, eyes wide.

"Dru?" Bang. "Is someone in there? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Just ho...."

And now my trousers. I put up what protest, silent, I can, wriggling, struggling. But Tara has the advantage that I'm tied. She easily unbuckles my canvas belt, opening my trousers, yanking them firmly down around my ankles.

"Dru!?" Getting annoyed. I fight the urge to laugh despite the rising thumping of my heart, the blush spreading across my cheeks. Eyes darting to Tara, sat back and kneeling on my bed, gaze roaming my near nakedness.

And she doesn't, couldn't, know, that she's the first person in over three years to see me in any state less then fully dressed. The first, ever, to see my inkwork and enhanced E cups.

"Just." Taking a breath. "I don't know anything about a car. Why would I?"
"I just." Pausing. I wait, sudden shiver down my body from breasts to toes as Tara reaches out, running nails down my belly.

"I'm going to leave them a nasty note."
"Okay. Um." Beside me Tara giggles quietly, eyes still wide as she drinks me in. Even I, still not calm, resisting the urge to roll onto my belly to cover up, can't help but smile.

Because its all quite funny.

"Okay."

Silence. It seems, feels, like Tara and me wait together. Unmoving. Both gazing at my door.

As though we're both counting until we deem, at some point, that yes Kel must've gone.

"I mean." Blowing out a breath, shaking her head. At me. "Wow."

Rising panic at being so unexpectedly exposed. Heat in my crotch, still aroused, really fucking horny, but I'm about to ruin everything by calling a halt. Backing out backing away, because I'm naked and I'm never naked.

I'm not able to cope with this.

I need to stop and go back, to dress and.

Spoil the mood though kill the buzz and, this.

It is. I am having.

Fun.

Have to act fast. Feeling the words to end the ride rising, I get there first and say.

"Gag me."
"Huh?" Tara, confused frown replacing her smile. "What? Why?"
"Because."

Take a breath, have to be quick.

"If you don't I'm going to say let me go and then I'll get dressed and cover up but I do like this I'm just."

Words, lost the thread. I shake my head, try again.

"It should be you here tied not me but I don't mind and now I guess I'm naked and."

Tara laughs. I grin.

"Well okay nearly. But, point is, I don't want to get dressed but I will, ask, unless you gag me. And I'll explain maybe, maybe, later or whatever but right now just ple- mmgggppppffffmmmm."

"Happy to help." Tara, grinning, pinning the ball in my mouth with one knee as she tugs and pulls, feeding the harness gag straps into place.

I want to tie Tara up. I really, really, want to let my inner Domme out, to play, ro run wild all up and down and over her.

But right now I need Tara to keep me like this. Tied up. Gagged. I need to remain helpless whilst I wage a small internal war, because it feels good wearing not much.

I just need to convince myself of the fact.

[tickletied84]

Wonderful update. Love the flipping of control, from the confidence of having Tara at her mercy, but then the realisation and awkwardness of being stripped whilst Kel is outside.

Great variation keeping me intrigued!

[GreyLord]

Excellent change of pace. It is exciting picturing Tara in her micro bikini. Keep up the good work, [mention]RopeBunny13[/mention].

[BlissfulMisery]

Looks like Dru decided to broaden her horizons after all. In more ways then one too, but I suppose it is an ongoing process in both cases.

Of course one's confidence is not always an easy thing to find. We tend to have a knack for being our own worst critics (and enemies) sometimes.

A homing missile locked on.

I see someone was having fun with the descriptions

[RopeBunny]

Wonderful update.

Great variation keeping me intrigued!

Excellent change of pace.

Thank you both, nice to change it up, didn't want Dru to be Domme only forever. Good to have her see the other side at least once.

A homing missile locked on.

I see someone was having fun with the descriptions

I always do