A Bully's Tale (f+/f+) (ILLUSTRATED) *NEW (short) CHAPTER 14/11*

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A Bully's Tale (f+/f+) (ILLUSTRATED) *NEW (short) CHAPTER 14/11*

Post by RopeBunny »

Uncharted territory. For me. There won't be an illustration for every chapter, just where somethings happening that I fancy drawing.

Which with luck will mean somewhere between a third and half the chapters will come with added artwork.

I hope it works.

Enjoy :D
Last edited by RopeBunny 2 years ago, edited 11 times in total.
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001.
Ashley.

"I mean," arms thrown out wide, gesturing, taking in the narrow winding path behind and in front of our small gathering, the woodland assorted greenery either side flanking it, "there are other ways home." Dropping my arms, I smile at Kayley. "Aren't there?"
"Mmmfffdhh."
"What?" Smile widening, matched by other grins all around. My girls, enjoying the show, smiling and playing along lest- maybe, and I've never disabused them of the notion -it be them in Kayley's place next time. "I can't hear you."

Poor Kayley. I mean. Not really, because, fuck her right? But, still, no matter how many other girls catch my interest, wandering carelessly into my path at school, it always seems to come full circle eventually, back to her.

I'm not even sure why?

If she only had a different outlook on life, if she were only a bully, like me, then prehaps we'd be friends? We live on the same street. We attend the same school. We're even on the same after school sports team, an activity which helps us both remain trim and toned.

Go Pharaohs.

I mean. It isn't her breasts, but, since I feel like, today, I need a reason for what I've already done to her, for what I'm about to do. Let's say I hate her because of those near perfect twin peaks she has. E cups that, seriously, sprouted over the course of a single summer, from bee sting nipples to a cleavage most girls can only dream of. Certainly more than my below par B's.

They're staring at me now, those bra filling, perfectly round and pert, E's. Feels like I'm being taunted, despite Kayley not being able to talk. Not that she ever does. I doubt she actually likes my special brand of attention, but, she weathers it well.

We, though the other five know better then to actually do more then stop my chosen victim from running, all the playtime is mine. I then, have made a fair job out of binding Kayley up, using some old oil stained rope I found by the roadside this morning. Rope I've spent all day carrying around, smiling as I walked the corridors and attended lessons at Blue Oaks Comprehensive, eyeing up potential victims.

"And then I saw you walk off into my woods." Pointing, poking Kayley in her left breast. "And I knew it had to be you."
"Mmffpm pppfdh."
"Well." Poking her again. "I tied you up because I found rope. I mean." Raising both arms, looking around at the other girls. "What else was I going to do with it?"

To which they all laugh, like well trained sheep.

It isn't the first time I've tied her, or anyone, up. In fact, binding girls as a form of bullying happens to be my favourite form of self expression. No, by now Kayley and me are like proper rope buddies. I, even, before she grew her magic breasts, managed to sweet talk my way through and around her parents, and up to her bedroom. That, going through all her stuff, playing on her Nintendo, a lazy Sunday at Kayley's whilst she lay tied and stretched out on her bed in shorts and a loose tee, that was fun.

This time, today, she is of course in school uniform. We all are. Blue Oaks pupils wear a pale blue shirt, boys and girls. Most of the older girls, including fourteen year old Kayley and me, tend to opt for short sleeved, and we prefer a tight, snug, fit. All the better to show off what we've got. Skirts or trousers. I like my skirts, year round, tight and black with a side buckle plus zip, any girl who wears a skirt wears this design, always finishing above the knee. Today Kayley's in trousers, something tight fitting that flares slightly below the knee, her untucked shirt- hardly any girls tuck their's in -semi hiding her dark blue canvas belt.

I started with her wrists, binding them crossed behind her, using one end of the really long rope, wrapping and pulling four different knots tight, all whilst she stood and let me. I mean, she could, maybe, run. And my girls would chase her if she did. But, she could try. She just never does.

Odd.

Wrists done, I walked circles around her, wrapping rope as I did. Waist first, tied off to her wrists.

Kayley was, as I knelt down in front of her, stood feet apart, but as I was beginning to wrap the rope down, leaning in close, she, quite obediently, brought her legs together. She can, and mostly is, helpful like that. All the times I've tied her, she's never run, nor protested. She let's me have my fun, and doesn't even seem to care when I abandon her.

Abandoning my freshly tied victim is, always, the end of the game.

Wrap wrap wrap. All the way down to her ankles. She's wearing all black Adidas, far more casual then the army style boots I've got on. At the ankles I wrap several times, tying another four knots, then work my way back up, crisscrossing her skinny body, all the way up, not stopping until I reach her neck.

I. Kinda. Like how the rope pinches her shirt around the upper chest. I like how it makes her breasts look, sort of like squeezed. The rope presses Kayley's shirt tighter, showing off the curves of her E cups even more then normal. I've, would you believe it, never tied a girls breast area before.

I'll have to remember it looks good. I'll have to, next time or some time, experiment with this.

I tie several more knots, all behind Kayley, all on her upper body, sealing the rope, which I've been sure to wrap and pull tight at every opportunity, all over her. I can see it digging into her clothes.

She looks good. I like how people look tied up, and, Kayley, right now. She looks good.

The gag, the cherry on top, the, finishing touch. That's her school tie, with mine stuffed in her mouth first. For good measure. Our ties are dark blue, with a single oak tree silhouette picked out in several other shades of blue near the wide tip.

Blue Oaks. Blue shirts. Blue ties. There's a theme here.

Image

"Well." Picking up Kayley's school bag, tossing it underarm off to her left. I grin as it falls, and tumbles, coming to rest only just in sight. "Ditch time."

The ditch. It doesn't run the whole length of the woods, which are quite large. But, this part, with the winding path that happens to run from Blue Oaks to, almost, Kayley's road. Which is my road too. The winding path follows, for a mile, a large rail freight yard. Track next to long track, wagons of all shapes sat, or being pushed around by noisy diesel locomotives. Here, instead of trees, a deep and wide weed filled ditch seperates path from the railways boundary fence. No doubt the deep hole is to dissuade trespassing.

Whenever I do follow Kayley into the woods, when I do so with tying up on my mind, it's nearly always here I catch her up, spring my trap. Because, once tied, I think the ditch is the perfect place to leave her to struggle free.

"Hey." Having turned her around, both of us facing the ditch as we stand side by side, my arm around her shoulders. I nod. Pointing down. "At least it didn't rain today."

One of my girls, Michelle, barks out a laugh. Which she chokes off as I turn, slowly, giving her a look.

"Any last words, Kayley?"
"Mmfff mmpff."
"No?" I smile, hugging her into me. "Want a push?"

Kayley turns her head to regard me, and rolls her eyes. She hops, away from me. A second hop, a third. She stops, turns to look over her shoulder, as though checking on me. I give her a cheeky wave, mime diving off a board, for which I'm rewarded by a shake of her head.

Kayley hops a forth time, slips, and vanishes down the relatively steep sides of the grass and weed filled ditch.

"Well." Smiling, turning to face my girls, seeing matching smiles on every face. Not that any of them would ever frown, or voice anything other then the opinion on a thing that I'm known to hold.

"Bag." Holding out my hand, into which my dark red messenger bags strap is placed. I don't bother nodding my thanks. I simply walk, continuing my journey home.

I don't turn around. I know they're all following, even if some of them want to stay, to taunt Kayley some more, to watch her struggle out of first her ropes, then the ditch. But, they won't.

"Baaaaaa."
"Ash?" Jody, must've been her I just heard jogging to catch me up. I glance across, she gives me a half smile. "Did you just say something?"
"Just." I shrug, suddenly feeling the urge to fuck with them, with my girls. "I'd love to stay, watch that little bitch struggle."
"Yeah." Jody grins, gestures with a backwards nod. "Bet she'll be stuck for hours." She laughs. "Bitch."
"Bitch." I nod, feigning thoughtfulness. "I'll just leave her to suffer."
"Yeah." Any wider and Jody's grin would split her face apart. "Let the bitch suffer."
"Still." I tut. "Maybe I didn't tie her good enough." A shake of my head, silly me. "She could be fucking free already." Watching Jody closely. "Huh?"

"What?" I smile, seeing Jody cast a quick, worried, glance behind her. A call for backup if I'm any judge. "No. Ash." Shaking her head really hard. "You did her good."
"Yeah." I nod. "Poor fucking Kayley."
"Poor fucking Kayley." Michelle, appearing on my other side, she laughs. "Bitch had it coming," giving me a nervous half smile, "right. Ash?"
"Did you just," turning my head, glaring, "laugh?"
"What." Panicking, I try not to smile. "No." Michelle hurriedly shakes her head, I glance, seeing Jody shaking hers too.

"I'm going home." I stop, suddenly, and turning to Michelle I jab her in the breast with a finger. "You. 'Chelle. No more fucking giggling, this isn't supposed to be fun." Which is total crap. Tying girls up is the most fun thing I do. But. "Got it?"
"Yes, Ash." Nodding, with vigour. "Sorry, Ash." Looking around, I note the other four girls are nodding too.

Fucking sheep.
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Post by Caesar73 »

A fine Start! Carry on :)
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Caesar73 wrote: 2 years ago A fine Start!
Thanks :D
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002.
Kayley.

Ashley's right, at least it hasn't rained.

These woods, specifically this spot in these woods. It's here where I get tied up. Not everytime- I've been captured and bound in school, even in my own house once -but most times.

And, being tied up in these woods I don't always wind up at the bottom of the ditch, but, when I do, it's twice as bad in the wet.

And that's wet two ways: Wet, it's actually raining when Ashley binds me, in which case I get soaked. Or. Wet, it has rained, and now the bottom of the ditch is full of water, or full of mud. Or both. In which case I get dirty, and wet.

Most of the dirt I can, and do, wash off before leaving the woods. There's a small stream with a rocky bottom, a steady trickle of clear water. Washing allows me to walk home looking merely wet, and not like I've just played a rugby match but forgot to change into sports kit first.

Go Pharaohs. Except, of course, Pharaohs is the school netball team.

I don't play rugby.

Ashley and her followers leave, I listen, taking a moment. Taking stock. I've landed close to the bottom, almost completely buried in tall weeds. Winded from the fall and no doubt with grass stains on my legs and butt, but otherwise fine.

Gagged. Tied up, the ropes no looser for my tumble. But, fine.

And is that weird? Am I odd, or prehaps a half dozen cards short of a full deck, for not minding my current state?

Is it wrong to like being tied up?

Before starting at Blue Oaks, which is around the time Ashley appeared in my street, in my life, I'd never been tied up. But, there she was, day one of year one, already both acting and looking like she ran the school.

A week later, walking home, she captured me in the woods for the first time, and her unique form of bullying began.

I did have friends, a small circle. But now Ashley's the closest I've got to companionship. She rules Blue Oaks, not even the girls in the two years above us will cross her. And, it's well known I'm her favourite target, which would make anyone who happened to be with me, when I get caught, a target too.

So goodbye friends, none of whom, having been tied up alongside me once, fancied doing an encore.

And I don't mind the wide berth I'm given. I've always been somewhat of a loner, happy in my own head. Granted those first few tie ups were a surprise, something new and unexpected. But I've grown to like the unique bond Ashley and me share, doing what I can to nuture our. If not friendship then at least a mutual appreciation for enjoying me being tied up. So. I play along. I cooperate. I make sure to let her win each time by the simple act of being docile.

Submissive.

A bang from the freight yard brings me back to the here and now. Still laid in the weeds. Abandoned.

Which, walking away, leaving her captive- me, but I assume it's the same for those other girls I know she occasionally pounces on -bound and helpless, is always Ashley's endgame. Occasionally, rarely, she stays awhile, watching me struggle.

Being watched always makes my skin tingle, in a good way.

If, when, she stays, Ashley might as well be a ghost. Because she doesn't interact with me. Doesn't talk beyond a rare question or comment. Doesn't touch.

Do I want to be touched?

Sometimes. I think, maybe, yes.

Another bang, preceeded by a squeel of brakes. I shake my head. Time's marching on, and being tied up in a ditch isn't a good reason for being late home. For missing dinner.

So. Abandoned yes. Helpless? Not completely. Because I have my knife.

Which is in my bag. Which is....

Um?

Shit.

I need to stand up, which means I need to get turned around on the slope. I begin to struggle, rolling and wriggling, crawling my rope wrapped body along on my stomach and side, like some kind of large caterpillar who forgot how to move easily, huffing and grunting as tall weeds get in my way.

Eventually I'm in position, laid on my back, legs pointed downhill. From here it's just a case of pushing with my hands, bringing my legs straight, standing.

And.

There. Thank fuck my bag, a white backpack, isn't far. Though it still takes me another twenty minutes to reach after I slip, and fall back over, meaning more wriggling and crawling. More green stains on my shirt and trousers. More drool covering the ties wedged and bound in my mouth.

It's a small knife, the type with a folding blade, wooden handled. Cost me a ton of money, plus a raised eyebrow, a frown, from the older guy behind the counter. I really thought he'd say no, would refuse given how obviously young, too young legally no doubt, I was. But instead, a small smile, a nod, a purchase allowed.

The knife sits in a zipped side pocket, buried beneath some girl stuff: lipstick and a small packet of tissues. I have to lay on my side, feeling my way blind, grunting. Probably looking silly? Not feeling silly.

Because it's all part of the adventure. The struggle for freedom is my endgame.

With knife in hand I work on freeing my wrists. And. Wrists free, I can better cut through the ropes binding the rest of me, though it seems to take forever. I'll have to look up how to sharpen a knife online. Might be It's getting blunt, from all this constant use.

Ha.

I keep the rope, dirty and oil stained, one long piece turned into four of varying lengths, but still very much reusable.

I keep it for two reasons, thoughts which occur almost simultaneously:

I could head into school one day, with the rope, making sure the ends are visible. Dangling from my not quite closed backpack. Like a tease. Chase me, Ashley, chase me.

Or, this second thought making the butterflies freshly hatched in my belly speed up. I could even, maybe, tie her up one day. "Fuck." I whisper, looking down at Ashley's tie, soaked from being in my mouth this past hour. "Could I?" Could I tie her up? Do I want to tie her up? "How would?" Shaking my head. A crazy thought, but, I laugh. A small, somewhat shaky, sound.

"I think." Staring at the rope, at mine and Ashley's ties, everything nestled inside my backpack. "I think maybe I'd like to try." Zipping my bag closed, shouldering it. "Somehow?"

Turning round, about to begin my careful ascent out of the ditch, my eye catches on. Something?

There's a light, first green, then white, then red. Pulsing slow but steady, like an aircraft, from beneath a patch of braken off to my right. Puzzled, frowning, I move closer, bending down to discover. "What?" I frown some more. That shouldn't be emitting light of any kind, because. "It's just a stick."

I don't know plants, maybe I could point out an oak, because they're really tall, and old. Right? Maybe a pine too, because they stay green all winter. Yes? But I do know bamboo when I see it, because Mum uses a dozen long poles of said wood to hold up her roses, the pride of the back garden. Only, this bamboo is black.

But not black like paint, there are mottled patches of darker grey all over the four or so inches of straight thin stick I can see above ground. It looks, real. Except. "Real wood doesn't light up, like," shaking my head, "like some stupid kids toy."

Real wood doesn't burn either.

I couldn't say at what point I decide to reach for it, all I remember is staring, then the next moment, it seemed, I'd pulled it free of the ground. And.

"Fuck." Gritting my teeth, hissing. "Me."

Heat, and pain. What it must feel like to touch the sun. But only for an instant, no sooner am I aware of it, trying desperately to open my hand, to drop or better yet fling the stick away, then it's gone. Gone like it never existed in the first place. My hand belatedly does what my brain had been screaming for it to do, opening, allowing the bamboo to tumble back onto the weedy ground at my feet.

Where it sits, only now it isn't pulsing.

"Weird?" Like a question. Why? Lifting my right hand, of course I'd use my writing hand to pick something up, I, expecting the worst, turn it over.

To discover, not burned and ruined flesh, but a strange, almost oriental looking character, in black, taking up most of my palm. It looks like a tattoo, like the mathematical symbol for pi, but with more flourishes.

Wetting a finger on my left hand I, tentatively, attempt to scrub the symbol off my palm. Which of course meets with no success. Whatever it is, whatever this mark means, it appears to be permanent.

"So, what?" Tapping the stick with one foot. I almost, and maybe should use the word, it looks like a wand. Except. "Wands aren't real." I tut, staring down at the black and patchy grey bamboo. "What's this mean then," holding my hand out, fingers spread, palm down, "are we friends now or something?"

Which, all of this, makes me laugh. "I'm." Shaking my head. Stupid Kayley. "Talking to a magic wand."

"Fine." Huffing, throwing up my hands in surrender, but smiling, because it's funny, and crazy, and weird. But interesting too. "You can come home with me. But." Pointing, wagging a finger. "If you burn me again. Then we're not friends any more." Bending, reaching, I pause moments before touching the smooth black wood. "Okay?" I laugh, definitely crazy.

"Ah ha." Standing, bamboo wand in hand, and, thank fuck, feeling not even a small tingle of heat, of anything, I nod. "That's a good wand. Right." I point, up the slope, vaguely towards home. "Come on then," sticking the wand in my backpack, "let's go and introduce you to the family."
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Post by NotSeen »

Oooh. Now you have me interested. It'll be nice to see where this goes - and nice to see you return to writing supernatural stories.
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Post by Caesar73 »

NotSeen wrote: 2 years ago Oooh. Now you have me interested. It'll be nice to see where this goes - and nice to see you return to writing supernatural stories.
Me too :) I did not expect this twist :)
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Post by Nainur »

NotSeen wrote: 2 years ago Oooh. Now you have me interested. It'll be nice to see where this goes - and nice to see you return to writing supernatural stories.
Ha!

Loving it! I like the drawing. Nice title, too. Please, do carry on!
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NotSeen wrote: 2 years ago nice to see you return to writing supernatural stories.
It's been too long, since supernatural TUGs are my favourites to dream up and write.
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003.
Emma.

"You know I love your car," smiling over at Dave, "right?"
"Sure Em." Dave smiles back, eyes on the road, taking his 05 plate white Subaru WRX up through the gears, the engine growling and turbo hiss crashing as he weaves through the light traffic, taking me home from college.

"It's just."
"Just?" Glancing across at me, I laugh. "Why does it have to be so fucking loud."

I actually love the noise. Dave's Subaru, heavily modified for speed, for racing but not on any track, has an amazing voice. Even at idle it bubbles, the large bore exhaust meaning I can, always, hear him coming. At twenty five he's almost ten years older then me. A fact my parents don't exactly approve of, but at seventeen I'm nearly an adult.

And, well, they trust me. To be safe. And they've met him, several times now. Dad especially coming away impressed that, despite the somewhat hooligan appearance of his car, Dave actually has a sensible head. But. Still.

"Not too loud down my road," patting his leg, resting my hand close to his knee, "please."
"Sure Em." Dave laughs, puts a finger to his lips. "Silent running all the way."

A point he emphasises by stamping on the gas pedal, making the WRX bark and roar.

"Honestly." I laugh, shifting my hand higher, almost to the top of his thigh, high enough that I can feel the bulge pressing against his jean's crotch. "Boys with toys."

"Shhhh." Actually ducking down in his seat, like someone trying not to be seen, nursing the car down my road at just above idle. The WRX purrs, gently, less of an angry lion, more, for the moment, a content cat. "Silent mode."
"You idiot."
"Yeah. Well." A shrug, a grin as I blow him a kiss. "I like to.... wait." Pointing ahead. "Isn't that your sister?"
"Huh?" Turning to look. "Yeah." I tut, seeing the grass stains. "Drop me here, could you?"

"Hey sis." I smile, Kayley, my younger sister, turns, smiles back, waiting for me to catch up.

I'm sure there's something in our faces that mark us as family, but, otherwise, you'd be hard pressed to tell.

I take after our Mum, which means my body is a curvy fourteen, my breasts an average C. Kayley's taller then me by a handful of inches, getting most of her genes from Dad. Playing sports helps of course, but she's always been an eight. And, well, Dad might be Dad, but both his sister, and Mum- my Grandmother -are very busty. So Kayley's E cups are thanks to Dad too. We both wear our hair long, below the shoulders long, though mine curls at the tips and my sisters is straight. Plus she's blonde, which, before he turned grey early, Dad was too. I've dyed my natural brown an all over blue.

"Em." Nodding, hugging me back. "How's Dave?"
"He's good." Trying not to grin, Kayley giggles, as only younger sisters do, which sets me off. We fall into step beside each other, heading towards home.

"So." Brushing at her trouser leg, I tut. "Exploring. Again, were we?"
"Erm." Giving me, my use of hand commas, a half smile. "Yes." A single nod. "I was. Exploring."
"Right."

We all have secrets. I smoke weed. Getting high, enjoying the occasional buzz, since I was Kayley's age. This, the. Exploring. This is Kayley's secret.

We don't go to the same school. I, before college, went to John Cooper Comprehensive, which is the same distance from our house, but in the other direction. Incidentally this means I've never had the pleasure, the misfortune, to run into Ashley. I won't, have never, pressed Kayley regarding why she sometimes comes home from school with a grass or mud stained uniform. Why she's sometimes late. Or why she doesn't actually seem to have any true friends.

She knows, if she needs, wants, to talk. She knows I've got her back. Until then though, exploring is a code word, for, whatever it is she's actually doing.

"Come on." Pulling my black messenger bag back up, it tends to slip down as I walk. "Let's get you home, get a wash on before anyone sees you've tried to bring half the woodland home." I grin. "Again."
"Thanks Em." Laughing, I join in. "Don't mention it." Linking my arm through hers, picking up the pace. "Just. Try and find a cleaner place to explore someday, huh."

"Kayley?" Dad, frowning across the dinner table. "Dear, what's that on your hand?"
"My," I spot a flash, something black like an inked picture, on Kayley's palm, as I look up from my half eaten pork in gravy with veg, before she closes her hand into a fist, hiding whatever it is. "Um." Frowning down at her right hand. "It's, um."
"Show me." Dad gestures, holding out his hand, whilst beside him Mum is frowning too now. "Please."
"S' just a doodle." My sister huffs, but she opens her fist back up, offering her right hand, palm facing our parents, for inspection.

Some kind of flowing single character, all curling black lines, fills her palm. It looks, on first impressions, like a tattoo. Like something permanent. Which is silly to think.

"It's pretty." Mum, nodding whilst Dad runs a finger over the design, frowning. "But."
"But it doesn't feel like a doodle." Dad, shaking his head. He gives Kayley a look, the same one he gave me before actually meeting Dave: the. I trust you, but I still think you're not telling me everything. Look. Which in my case was, still is, true.

I have yet to mention my smoking. Plus, prehaps more Dave related, we've had sex. Sort of. A half dozen times.

But he let's the subject, of my sisters new ink, which can't actually be permanent. Right? Drop. With a final frown he releases her hand, and we all go back to eating, the conversation moving on.

"You're doing it wrong."
"What?" My sister jumps, head jerking sideways to me, stood at her half open bedroom door, even as she whips her right hand behind her back. Too late though, I already saw the. Wand? In her hand.

"I said," taking a step inside her room so I can lean back, on the doorframe, "you're doing it wrong."
"Doing what wrong?"
"Magic." I grin. "That is a magic wand behind your back. Right?"
"It." Eyes going briefly wide, panicked almost I'd say. "Well."
"I mean." I laugh. "It's a good replica anyway."
"A...?" Staring at me, frowning. Then she laughs, bringing her, wand, out from behind her back. Holding it pointed at the floor. "It really looks like a wand?"
"Definitely." I nod. "Not sure which of the Potter characters has a bamboo one though? And, it's black, so, it's probably meant to be evil. But." I shrug. "It looks real."

"Evil?" Lifting it up to her face, frowning as she turns the wand left then right. "Does it have to be?"
"I guess not?" I frown too, thinking. I mean, it's all make believe anyway. So. "Maybe it's up to you?"
"Up to me?"
"Sure." Why not.

"You. Um." Twirling her wand in a figure eight. "What did you mean I'm doing it wrong?"
"Well." Lifting old memories, of movies and books, not just Potter but whatever else in the fantasy genre I've enjoyed. "Can I?"
"Can...." Looking from her wand to my outstretched hand. Kayley frowns, opens her mouth, shakes her head and shrugs. "Sure. Here."

"Right." I stand, mirroring Kayley's pose of moments ago, almost statue like, a person stood ready for inspection at a parade. "See." Lifting my right arm, wand in hand, pointing both arm and wand out directly in front, like a rigid pole. "This." I smile, Kayley giggles at my serious face. "This isn't how you spellcast."
"No?"
"Well." A shrug. All made up anyway, but. "This. Now." Shift of pose, stood side on to Kayley, right arm and wand raised to point at her, face turned to regard her, legs spread. Like a fencing pose, a swordfighters stance. "Maybe it's overly, um."
"Showing off?"
"Right." We both laugh. "But. Well. In what I've seen. Read. Doing magic is relaxed, flowing. Not like being at attention."

"Hmmm?" Kayley takes back her wand, moves her body to mirror my pose. "Like this?"
"Pretty much." Nodding. "It always looked, when it looked like it was done well. It looked like fencing."
"So," breaking the pose, frowning at her wand, "it's all in flicking the wrist and stuff?"
"I mean." A shrug. What do I know. "Is this for a play, at school?"
"Well." Making a seesaw gesture. Smiling. Shrugging.

"Fair enough." I grin. "See you later sis." Stepping out of her room, waving. "I've got coursework to do."
"Kay." Waving, but not looking, already stood side on facing her mirror, wand raised, frowning at her reflection. I grin, and leave her to it.

Unlike Kayley I have a double bed. Being older I got the bigger bedroom, with our parents getting the other, and Kayley, as youngest, in the smaller third. With the door closed I strip off and wrap myself in a towel I grabbed from the heated cupboard beside the bathroom.

I might as well shower and change for bed now, since I shan't be going out again tonight.

Feeling fresh, smelling faintly of cirtus, hair combed out and mostly dry, I put on a nightie. Some girls wear shorts and a tee, some just a tee and pants, some wear trousers. Me, I have, recently, begun experimenting sleeping naked, enjoying the secret thrill of having nothing on, liking how the cotton duvet feels against my skin. But I still need to wear clothes until bed, and a nightie has always been my choice. This one is grey, with pink straps over my shoulders. The edges of the nightie, top and bottom, are pink too. The bust has a pinched effect, cupping my breasts nicely, dipping like some of my vest tops to show off a decent amount of cleavage. Despite reaching nowhere near my knees I don't wear pants underneath, which is another small thrill as I feel the bottom hem swishing not far below my butt cheeks.

Mine and Kayley's rooms share a wall. On my side sits my desk, which I sit down at now on a wheeled black and green gaming chair, swinging my laptop open, booting it up. On Kayley's side is her mirror. Staring at the wall now, waiting, I smile. I can almost, with some imagination, see Kayley stood facing her mirror, facing me, legs spread, right arm twirling, wand dipping and bobbing.

For twenty minutes I work, writing up part of an essay, an assignment for Geography all about the oceans. "And." Full stop. Save. "There." I grin. "That's enough for today. Time for some entertainment."

Which, today, is going to be watching videos rather then checking in and out of various sites and message boards I enjoy populating.

An hour later, sometime around eight, and the strangest thing happens.

The video stops. Pauses. And, when I try to sit forwards, to discover what's just caused my laptop to freeze, I can't move.

I can't speak either, nor can I move my eyes. But, it seems, I can still think. I'm still, aware. What the actual fuck? I think, puzzled.

And then Kayley walks through the wall in front of me.

Not Kayley, but, it has her shape. As though my sister stripped naked, becoming a largely featureless silhouette in black, with highlights such as the shadows underneath her E cups, between her legs, picked out in shades of red and white. Like a ghost, a thing not real but there all the same. Like a projection.

My sisters ghost form walks towards me, out of the wall and straight through my desk without hinderence, but angles left rather then walk through me too. Which I've no doubt she could do with ease, but, thank fuck she didn't. I lose sight of her as she passes.

Then feel my arms moved, jerked and tugged back behind the chair. And, not that I'd currently have the power to bring them back to resting on the chairs arms, but, something is pinching at my wrists, something being wrapped around, pinching again. Am I being tied up? By my sisters ghost?

The black projection of my sister reappears beside me, coming back around the front. Where she kneels, like someone proposing marriage, her stretched back lower right leg vanishing into my desk just above the ankle.

She reaches out, to the side, palm open, and before my astonished eyes a coiled length of rope appears in her hand. As if by magic.

Ha. But, also. Oh?

Both my legs are tied, Kayley's projection, whatever it is, ties each of my ankles off to the chair arms on each side, where the armrest connects to the chair seat, where my butt is. Doing so not only angles and bends my legs double, it spreads them wide open too.

Maybe I should wear pants?

Image

She stands, reaching out again, but this time something like a white scarf appears. Leaning forwards, all business like, my jaw is opened, and the scarfs centre is placed in my mouth. Leaning further forwards, not seeming at all bothered that her- apparently naked -breasts are dangling in my face, the scarf is tied off behind my head, yanked and pulled tight, digging in at the sides of my mouth.

Finished. Because what else on me can she tie? Kayley stands, looks down at me, the white ghost of a smile splitting her black and red shadowed face. She turns, and walks back through my desk, through my laptop, through the wall.

And, moments later, the world comes back to life. My video resumes in a burst of laughter. My body, finally reacting to the frantic signals my brain had been sending: get up, escape. Stands. Tries to stand.

Because I'm tied up.

"Mmmfpphhhh." I exclaim, looking down at myself. My arms, pulled behind me, pulling my nightie taut against my breasts. My legs, tied spread wide open, causing my nightie to ride up, but thankfully not that far up.

So. What's a girl supposed to do now? I've never been tied up. Not for fun. Not for, what, punishment. Would a naughty person be tied up? Maybe for some people this is a game, but it isn't one I've ever been invited to play, nor one I've ever thought up.

It isn't horrible. I don't hate this, being restrained, unable to simply get up and leave. It isn't horrible, but it is weird.

Of course I try to untangle my limbs. I struggle, wriggle, working my wrists and hands around, seeking out the extent of the rope, searching for a knot. I try to move my legs, to slip either ankle free. After all it wasn't even a person who tied me. What does a ghost, or projection, of Kayley know about ropes anyway?

For that matter what does Kayley herself, my little sister, know about ropes?

But. "Mmmfppp." Nope. I'm stuck. And, I just don't want to create the level of noise that might bring help. Because what exactly would I say to Dad or Mum if they're the ones who hear me?

So I sit, forced for the next ninety minutes to watch whatever video keeps being offered up next on random autoplay. And. I wait.

Until. Finally.

"Em?" Soft knocking on my door, Kayley's whispered voice carries, just about, through the wood. "Em?" Another knock. I struggle, one more time, not expecting any sudden change in the end result but, ideally I'd like to not be discovered in this state.

"Em?" Handle turning, door opening. "Are you awake? Only," my sister's head pokes through the gap, followed by the rest of her, "I really need...."

At which point she looks. And sees. "Oh." But not of surprise. "So I?" Staring at me, a shake of her head. "Shit."

She frees me, quickly. Where did my sister get a such a fancy knife? I stand, stumble, my legs like jelly from being bound so long. I sit down, and look up to say. I don't know what.

To find my room empty, my sister already vanished, the rope, the evidence of my strange experience gone.

No way I dreamed it. But?
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Post by RopeBunny »

004.
Kayley.

Fuck.

"Fuck fuck, shit." Fuck. "Shit."

Closing my bedroom door, leaning back against the soft cool wood. I count, making it to twenty-two before.

"Kay?" Emma's voice, soft, whispered through the wood. I bite my lip. What the fuck do I say? How do I explain any of what just happened when I don't even properly understand it myself.

I'd been, standing, trying out different poses, twirling and flicking the wand like a fencing sword. Sometimes random movements. Sometimes trying to draw a specific shape in the air. I'm not even sure what I was attempting to do? What spell did I hope to achieve?

And then, as it sometimes does, my mind had begun to wander. To thoughts of being tied up, by Ashley of course. Replaying memories, splicing in some fantasy, some what if this had happened that time instead moments.

And then. Something had happened. Something had worked. And, well, everything was like a dream, moving like drifting, ideas becoming real at the merest thought. And the idea I'd had was to tie someone up.

I think on some level I knew it was my sister, but, on some other level, I didn't care.

When I came back, with the smallest of bumps, eyes darting open, wand falling from my grip. I'd assumed it to be a dream. I'd dozed, for a brief moment, swaying on my feet. It hadn't occurred to me that it might be real, that maybe I should check on Em.

Lucky really I wanted to borrow her dark red lipstick for school tomorrow.

And now. "Kay?" What do I say?

"Em." Not opening my door, speaking into the crack down the side, next to the handle. "I. Um."
"Kay." I can hear her puff out a breath. "Can we just. Can we talk?"
"I." Shit. Fuck. "I can't. Not tonight."
"I need to know what just happened. I." Another puff. I can picture her, shaking her head. "I saw you Kay. Well." A small, brief, slightly crazy laugh. "I saw. You walked through my fucking wall and tied me up."
"I." I really did it. Magic. A spell. Call it what you want. I. Somehow. Projected myself into Emma's room.

I tied my sister up. "I can't, Em." Shaking my head, hands pressed against the door. "Give me time, please. I need time."
"Just."
"Exploring." The word, our code, comes to me then. Will she understand. "Exploring, Em. Please. I'll talk. Just. Not tonight."
"Exploring huh?" Something in her tone, softer, and I'm reaching for the handle.

Emma gives me a small half smile, my own in reply is somewhat nervous. "Em." Sorry I made a spell and tied you up because really I want to tie Ashley up or at least I think I do and so I was daydreaming and I think you just happened to be there and so. "Um."
"Just." Stepping forward, hugging me, whispering in my ear. "I'm not mad, Kay, just." Stepping back, giving me another smile. "Just promise me you'll be careful. Exploring."
"I'll try." My answering smile is wider this time. "Thanks Em."

I leave the wand at home, nestled at the bottom of my pants drawer, a place I'm fairly certain not even Mum goes digging around in.

School happens, the normal day to day. I steal a white compression hand sock from the house first aid kit, wearing it at school to cover up the flowing symbol on my right palm. I don't want or need the extra attention. At home, unable to wear the sock all day due to how tightly it grips, and not wanting to anyway, I simply try not to make any large or obvious right handed gestures in front of my parents.

Which mostly works. I catch them frowning, both at me and each other. I know they spot it, and neither of my parents is forgetful enough to not recognise it as the same symbol from the dinner table. But, whatever opinions or thoughts they might have regarding it's still being there, on my hand, I'm not bought to task about what it is, or why it's still on my hand.

What free time I have, I spend doing online research, where, of course but I do it anyway, you should never type 'magic' into the search bar if you actually expect to find out anything useful, or specific.

Everything I try, every string of words, returns a seemingly endless flood of results. There's just too much out there, and no way of knowing whether what you find is proven fact or just someone bored, sat at home and making it all up for fun. Very little online is regulated, anyone can pretend to be a professor of whatever.

I decide to try a new tack. To search images not words.

Using my phone I take photos of the wand and my right palm, upload them to my laptop, then start searching.

"Shakta-el-Furiosa." I ponder, tapping a finger to my lips, sat up in bed late on a Friday night, laptop balanced on my stretched out under the duvet legs. I should be asleep by now, but. Well. I think I've just found it.

The article in question looks well put together, it looks real if I'm any judge. And, more importantly, it's the first one I've found to feature both the wand and the symbol. To connect them as two parts of the same whole.

The wand. And I'm just going to, until anything can be or is disproved, take this article and it's contents as real, because at some point I have to trust something. The wand is old. Origins unknown. But it, apparently, chooses who can wield it, with the symbol, this ornate looking thing tattooed, or branded if you will, on my palm, being the proof that it chose me.

Apparently, now that we're paired, the only way to break that bond is by removing me. Permanently.

"Fuck." Staring down at my palm, scratching the symbol with my left hand. "Me."

As for what Shakta-el-Furiosa can do? That part of the article is, prehaps deliberately, vague. Something about stance and gestures- thanks Em -being more important then shouting out a bunch of words. Something about visualising what you want, about the wand somehow using your. My. Imagination, like some kind of cue.

"So. What?" A couple of days later, a Monday, holding Shakta-el-Furiosa loosely in my right hand, looking down at it. I'm only halfway dressed for school, shirt hanging open over a white bra, skirt on but not shoes. I bring the wand up to eye level. "I think it, you do it. Is that it?"

There's no answer, of course. But, I realise at some point I'm going to need to actually try using it again.

"A. Um. Field test." I decide, liking the word. Nodding as I walk home, alone of course, on a Thursday afternoon. "And what better place for a field test then a real field?"

Can't accidentally tie my sister up in an empty field after all. I think?

The upside to having no friends is I'm always free. So, Saturday dawns, and I wake up with a plan. Of sorts.

I dress for the weather. Sky blue and white half lace plunge bra, because it's the weekend and I get bored of having to wear sensible underwear Monday through Friday. Plus I like how the plunge effect presses and lifts my breasts, the additional cleavage it gives. I wear a thong too, black, the side straps riding high clinging to my waist. With cleavage in mind I wear a vest top, plain grey, pairing this with tight and faded blue jeans, ripped at the knees with smaller ladder rips on the upper legs. Dark blue and white Adidas go on my feet over black socks.

I tuck Fury- because I don't want to keep thinking of it as a wand, but no way am I struggling through that long ass name every time -in my white backpack. I dump a bottle of water and a hastily made chicken and stuffing leftovers sandwich in too, plus my black pull over hoodie. It's a warm day, but I'd rather be prepared.

Between my estate and the next is a large field, actually several all together. There's a playground in one corner, a skateboard half-pipe and BMX track elsewhere. There are trees scattered all around, some stood alone, others in small groups. Several paths crisscross the area.

I pick one of the lone trees as a spot, which, the occasional dog walker aside, is far enough away from any other group out in the morning sun.

"Right." Backpack off and resting against the tree, keeping my lunch in the shade. I stand, Fury in my right hand. "I feel silly." Shaking my head. I mean, it worked before, but before I was just playing pretend. Before, that evening, even with the symbol on my palm I still didn't know it was actually going to work. Now though, not only has it worked, but, I have that article, which I've chosen to believe, which basically tells me I'm the new owner of a powerful wand.

So. "I guess I should do some magic then?" I smile, relaxing into it, my locked pose coming loose.

I've thought about it. What could I try and do? Something easy. Just proof is all I need, just for it to work. It worked with Em, but I've no clue how. So, if I try now to do a specific thing, and it works, then. Proof. "You're a wizard, Kayley." In my best gruff voice, which makes me giggle.

I bought a cup from home too, pint size, but plastic and orange. I've placed it, upside down for stability, on the grass in front of me. I want to lift it up, make it fly. No burning. No exploding or vanishing. Just, lift, then move, then lower.

Simple.

"Ohmygod." Falling over backwards, staring wide eyed as the cup, moments ago suspended several metres in the air, slowly spinning, drops back down onto the soft grass. "Fuck." Sat on my butt, staring down at the wand in my right hand. I laugh. "Fuck me it worked. Fuck."

My phone chimes, an incoming message. From Em:

'Heading into town sis, clothes shopping. Want to come?'

I grin, tapping out a reply:

'Sure. At the big field, be back now x'

Sliding Fury into my backpack, chucking the cup in after, I pull out lunch, eating a sandwich as I wander back across the field, smiling.

My route home passes Ashley's house, her back garden one of many in a row of a half dozen tall wooden fences, wooden gates closed and locked from the inside. Except hers opens whilst I'm still on approach, still some way off. Ashley walks out, grass box for a lawnmower in hand, which she upends all over the field.

I've got time, she hasn't seen me, there's an alley between two houses right here, I could detour and not be seen. But I keep walking. Why?

Is it wrong to say that she hasn't caught, hasn't tied me up, in over two weeks, and I miss it? Plus, well, I've had a sudden, crazy, plan.

So I keep walking. And, as I get closer, Ashley returns to her back garden, then re-emerges, one hand on her gate. She looks right, hand shading her eyes, then left, straight at me. She smiles.

Her smile, that somewhat predatory quality to it, makes me tingle, turns my body briefly cold despite the heat.

"Kayley." Looking me up and down as I stop a couple of metres away. "Well well." Ashley glances sideways back towards her house. "Here I was, empty house, no plans, and then you show up."
"Imagine that." I smile back, calm. She's wearing grass stained and old looking red drawstring joggers, hanging low like my jeans, showing the tops of her own thong, with is pink. Up top she only has on a grey sports bra, the tight material hugs her skinny frame and small B cups, nipples poking at the fabric.

"Where you headed?"
"Home." I shrug. "Nowhere."
"Want to come in?" I have, never, been inside Ashley's house. After all why would the prey willingly wander into the lair? But I shrug. "Sure."
"Excellant." Her expression, her smile, falters slightly. Confusion at my easy acceptance prehaps? Does she know, that I know, that there could only be one reason for her to want to invite me in? "What's in the bag?"
"My magic wand."

"What?" Bringing her up short, back gate locked, both of us halfway up the path, her back door wide open, a nice modern looking kitchen visible beyond. "A. Wand?" Ashley turns to face me. Laughs. "Really?"
"Really." I nod. Feeling butterflies as I pause, for a breath, at the start of my plan. And then jump off. "Want to see?"
"Sure." There's a patio area, a barbecue and chairs, between garden and house. The chairs surround a table, atop which sits an almost empty bottle of water. Ashley takes a drink, gestures at me with the bottle. "Show me then."

"Pretty." Nodding. "How much was it?"
"Not a clue." I shrug. "Found it."
"Yeah?" Looking again as I hold Fury out in my right hand, trying to control my ever increasing nerves. "Does it do anything?"
"Well," deep breath, "it...."
"Does it light up?" Interrupting me. "Make a noise?"
"It does magic."
"Well." Running a hand through her shaggy cut shoulder length black hair. "Like what?"

"Like tie you up."

Ashley laughs, after a moments pause, a moments silence where I forget to breathe, unsure what her reaction will be. I remain serious, trying not to shake at the nerves and excitement and worry, these are uncharted waters. "Want me to show you?"
"You." Calming down, glancing from me to my wand. "Really?" A second, brief, laugh. "You're, going to tie me, up?"
"Yes." Please. I hope. Yes. Yes I am. "I mean."
"Okay." A shrug, standing a half dozen metres away. "Go for it. Show me some magic."

Image

"Or." A laugh. A shrug. "Not."
"I." Staring at Fury, now held loosely, end dangling, relaxing my pose back to one of standing normally. "I." What the fuck? It worked on Emma when I wasn't even trying, and it worked just now, on the cup, when I was. "Um."
"Guess it's out of batteries." Ashley, I hadn't even noticed her approaching, plucks the wand from my unresisting fingers, slips it back inside my bag. "Well. Kayley." Picking my bag up, walking inside. Ashley stops just over the threshold, turns back to face me. "Are you coming in?"
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Post by Nainur »

Lovely tale, really lovely and a bit of suspense, too!
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Post by ninterz »

How did I not see this?
This story is great. Love your art
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Post by RopeBunny »

ninterz wrote: 2 years ago Love your art
Thanks :D It's kinda basic, but, I'm still learning. Might try redrawing them at some point. See if I can do a better job.
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Post by Mr Underheel »

I haven’t read the whole thing yet but the first installment was wonderful! I need some quality time to finish it up! Thanks for your work!
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Post by Treville »

Great story! Wish someone would leave me tied up in a ditch! :D
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Post by RopeBunny »

005.
Ashley.

I've never been tied up. Ever. I'm the bully. Whatever the game is, I win.

Of course Kayley's pretend wand didn't work, but, the look on her face as she was waving it, twirling shapes at me in the air between us. Her expression said she believed it would work.

She really wanted to tie me up.

For a brief moment, I wanted it too.

My girls: Michelle. Tasha. Jody. Charlotte. Deborah. We hang out constantly, like I'm trailing five shadows, that's how it can feel. But, the truth is sometimes I feel closer to Kayley then any of my little gang. In a weird way, by letting me tie her up time after time, by never protesting or running away, never reporting me to parents or teachers, she let's me be me.

Because I'm at my happiest being a bully, tying girls up.

If Kayley were more like me, prehaps we'd truly be friends then?

Tying me up, bullying the bully, would be a good start down that road.

So, for the briefest of moments, I held my breath, feeling an unfamiliar tingle rush across my body. What would it feel like? What would she do to me? In that moment a part of me was willing the impossible to happen.

But. No. Her little black stick didn't work. Of course. So now we're back to normality. Me in charge.

"Well." Stood in my parents kitchen, looking out into the garden, at Kayley, stood like a rabbit in headlights. I've got her bag, but. I hold it out to her. "Here." Trying on a, nice, smile. See, I can be fair and polite. "Have it back, if you want. Or." I can feel my smile turning evil, and Kayley's answering nerve filled one tells me she sees it too. "Come in. Keep me company."

She steps slowly closer, still the cautious rabbit. But, instead of reaching for her bag she comes all the way inside, and, genuine shock on my part, reaches out behind her, pushing my back door closed.

"Okay." A nod, a nervous giggle. "Here I am."
"Indeed." Oh. Shit. I really wasn't expecting much out of today, nothing except finishing my chores, showering, then heading out to find Michelle, or Tasha. Hooking up with my girls to hang out and, maybe, score some cheap booze. But. This, Kayley in my house, this could be fun.

But I have no plan. Tie her up. Yes. Fuck yes. It's been too long since I tied someone, though in honesty sometimes a day is too long. And, it's Kayley.

Why do I prefer tying Kayley, bullying Kayley, over anyone else? Um. Today, my reason is. Because she's always around. Always. Somehow, whenever the urge to bully takes me, when that part of me begins to shout louder and louder, clamouring to be let off the leash, there she is. She's just always so accessible, always right there, in the woods, in the corridors at school. In my, fuck me, in my house.

I have to tie her up. Her own doomed to fail attempt at turning the tables has me in the mood. Tie her up yes.

But. How? And then what? I think fast, all whilst she stands, our eyes skating on and off each other, the occasional nervous grin breaking out then vanishing off her pretty face. Mirrored by a more shark like- feels to me anyway -one surfacing then diving off my own freckle spotted on.

The freckles are like a scattered line across my upper cheeks and nose, across my shoulders and upper back.

"You never run?"
"No." A brief flash of smile, a tiny shake of her head. "Do you, want me to run?"
"No." Stepping around her, locking the back door, I turn to see Kayley watching me, her eyes wide, her breath shallow. I hold up the key. "Too late now anyway."
"What." She stops, swallows. "What will you do to me?"
"Whatever I want." Favouring her with my best evil grin. "Because, Kayley," stood very close, because she was right next to the door, I tap her nose with the key, "you're the rabbit."

She nods. Doesn't even look confused by the metaphor.

My plan, such as it is or can be at such short notice, is to see what I can get away with. Kayley never runs, never protests. No matter how I tie her. So, let's try to be more, evil. To see whether I can spook this cute busty rabbit.

Shouldering her backpack, I point. "Cupboard." Kayley looks, following the invisible line, walks across and opens the undercounter door, is greeted by pots and pans, oven dishes. She turns back, gives me a shrug. "Clingfilm. On the left." I hold up fingers. "Two rolls should be enough."
"Enough for what?" A shy, still nervous, smile. I drop one of the fingers, wag the other at her. "No no. Rabbits don't talk."
"Maybe you should gag me then?"

Covering my momentary surprise at her forwardness- Kayley never refuses to be gagged, but she's never asked or offered before -I grin. "What an excellent idea." Beckoning with the finger that had been pointing. "Come here."
"Now?" A small step forward, hesitating, biting her lip. My grin widens, the predator in me smelling blood. It's no longer her decision.

The first aid kit is open beside the sink, I'd had a headache when I woke up, and wasn't going to let it spoil my day. Reaching in now I pull out a roll of white bandage wrap, the kind that's slightly elasticated, the kind that sticks to itself.

The first three passes around her head, the initial wraps, the bandage goes in Kayley's mouth, which, nervous or not, she opens willingly. I make sure to keep it tight as I work, spooling more out as I stand close in front of her, our bodies almost touching. Those first passes will force her tongue to remain in place, keeping her ability to talk to a minimum. Now, from the forth pass onwards I can focus on sealing everything up.

I wrap both high and low, covering her top and bottom lip, but not under her chin. As I work Kayley's hair is plastered to her head. She remains still, eyes on my face, our gaze occasionally meeting as I keep mine largely focused on the task at hand, pressing down on the bandage regularly, keeping it smooth.

"There." I grin, nodding. "Better. Yes?"
"Fffmmmpg." Trying to talk, not managing even a single legible sound. "Now." I take a couple of steps back, finding the counter with my butt, leaning into it. "Clingfilm."

Kayley regards me, E cups- her vest top is doing a good job of showing them off -rising and falling quickly. Is she panicking?

Excited?

She nods though, turns and bends down, stands back up with two boxed rolls of clingfilm clutched one handed to her flat stomach.

"Good." I point a second time, to a drawer beside our tall silver fridge. "Scissors. Tape." Which Kayley retrieves without argument or pause, after which I lead the way upstairs, to my bedroom.

"Come in," stepping to the side, holding my door open, shutting it behind us both, "drop everything on the bed." I can see Kayley looking around, prehaps noticing the differences between my bedroom and hers, the chief amongst them, unless she's changed things up since I tricked my way inside her house that one time, tying Kayley to her bed for the day. The main difference in our rooms is the beds.

I'm an only child. Living on the same road as Kayley, our houses are the same inside and out. Three bedrooms. As youngest it seems she got the short straw, but, in my house the smallest bedroom houses Mum's snakes, all four in different large custom built wood and glass vivariums. The second large bedroom is all mine. Which means space for a double bed.

And not just any double, a four poster.

Because I don't bully or otherwise treat my parents with anything except love. Tying up the girls at school allows me to sufficiently vent that side of me. I doubt my parents even know I have a second, evil, side. So because I'm nice I tend to get the things I want. And I wanted a princess style bed.

Which is I what I got.

The frame is wooden, but not ornate. Each corner post is round, reaching from floor to almost ceiling, joined at the bottom by the underframe and side boards, joined at the top by thinner boards. My sheet and duvet are pink, contrasting nicely with the dark wood.

"Right." Clapping, once, bringing Kayley's attention back to me. "Here's what's going to happen." Not a negotiation- she's gagged anyway -and certainly not a suggestion. This is what I intend to do. Pushing the limits remember, seeing how much I can get away with. "I'm using all of that," throwing out an arm, waving it across the piled stuff on my bed, "to mummify you to that post." Pointing at the nearest post, at the foot end of my bed. I grin. "Go Pharaohs."

Kayley makes a sound that, could, be laughter. Shakes her head. "Now." I gesture at Kayley, waving a hand up and down her body. "Strip."

I'm being deliberately vague, to see what she'll do, because sometimes it feels like she's into all this. Sometimes when I tie her up, when she cooperates, when she doesn't try to run. When she offers to be gagged. I think she's just as into this as me. So let's see how much.

Her eyes go wide, and, for a dozen heartbeats, her chest still rising and falling too fast, she stands. Still. Regarding me.

Then.

Off come her black running shoes, bringing each foot up in turn, bending down slightly to remove shoe and sock at once, chucking all four things one after another into an empty corner beside my desk. The grey vest top is next, pulled over her head, tossed away. Joined moments later by Kayley's faded and ripped blue jeans.

Leaving her, facing me still, only now wearing a rather small black thong and a quite fancy looking blue and white bra.

She watches me, I gaze back, trying to keep my face neutral. Trying not to stare at all the skin that's, suddenly, there. If she's looking for cues, some sign on whether she should stop, I don't want to give her any.

The plan isn't necessarily to have Kayley be naked, though I find the idea strangely appealing, the plan is to see how far she's willing to go.

For a minute, then another, we face off, Kayley's arms constantly shifting from crossed beneath her breasts to hanging by her side. She scratches at her right palm.

Did she draw that?

Why?

A third minute, Kayley's eyes darting around the room, returning to me each time. I keep mine on her, fighting my own internal struggle not only to keep a smile off my face, but to keep my gaze level and not on her bra filling breasts.

Her bra is off before I realise that's her intent. Having reached behind her, freeing the clasps, Kayley wriggles the bra down her arms, off of her breasts, then tosses it away. Her breasts, I can't help but notice, barely drop as she frees them, remaining pert, with a slight teardrop shape roundness, sitting full and large on her skinny frame, topped by small dark pink nipples.

"Left arm." Taking hold of her left hand, bringing the arm up to forty-five degrees. "Here. Hold it straight." I let go, nodding as Kayley's arm remains in place, rigid, straight.

No plan stays the same once you begin. I made a decision, wanting but not wanting Kayley naked, various emotions warring inside me, to say stop. To bind her now. Before today I'd never seen her in less then a full set of clothes, and whilst yes I've undone her shirt a half dozen plus times, exposing her sensible white school bra once she's all tied and helpless, I've never seen her thong. Nor her actual naked breasts.

Would she of removed the thong too?

Taking one of the boxes from the bed I remove the roll of clingfilm, and, finding the end, tease it free and press it down onto Kayley's forearm. I wrap the sticky film around her arm several times, pressing it down as I go. "Good." Nodding, pushing her arm back against her side. "Hold it there. And," gesturing, "right arm up." Kayley complies, like always, lifting her right to mirror the position her left arm had just been in. "Good." I continue wrapping.

A dozen laps around her skinny flat stomach, stood close, leaning in closer, trying and mostly failing to ignore those E cups, dangling just above my head like ripe fruit. Wrapping and pinning her left arm to her side, before cutting the clingfilm, smoothing down the end.

I repeat the whole process with her right arm: wrapping the forearm on its own, before pinning it to her side with multiple laps around both arms and stomach. She's now wrapped from belly button to about an inch below her breasts.

"Legs next." Kneeling down, scissors placed on the floor, I tap her right knee. "Put them together." Like a soldier coming to attention Kayley complies, clingfilm creaking as she flexes her fingers.

I begin wrapping from the ankles, staying on the same level for multiple goes around before slowly climbing up her legs. I'm still making sure to smooth the way behind me, pressing down on those rouge humps and crinkles, which are completely erased and covered up by the following lap anyway. With plenty left on this first roll I go from kneeling bent down to kneeling reaching up, bringing the wrap all the way to her stomach, overlapping her wrapped forearms before returning back down.

Where I'm careful to do just as many circuits of her legs as I did ascending, completely mummifying Kayley's lower half, her black thong now just a hazy patch of small fabric.

"Right," tossing the empty cardboard tube towards Kayleys clothes, reaching towards the bed, "tape, first. Then roll number two."

Beginning and ending at Kayley's ankles, up then down. "And." Laughing. "Again."
"Mmmffp mmmm."
"Because I can." Looking up to grin, realising too late that, from down here, kneeling right in front of Kayley, looking directly up means an eyeful of breasts. Right there. Still, it feels like, just waiting for me to reach out and touch.

I really didn't do this, I muse, winding the tape up then down a second time. Overkill, sure. But fuck it. I'm having fun. I didn't tell Kayley to strip, with a view to feeling her up. I didn't want to waste this opportunity, Kayley in my house, willingly here. Having her naked, close to it anyway, is a power trip thing. It's me, being the bully, taking advantage.

I just, despite occasional thoughts regarding that yes, she is pretty. Or that yes, prehaps I do enjoy her company. I didn't expect to be stood here, trying not to be too obvious about looking at her E cups, trying to decide what they might feel like.
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Post by Nainur »

...an especially exciting, intriguing chapter, IMO! Well done!
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Post by Mr Underheel »

I couldn’t help thinking from time to time that Kayley was almost resented by Ashley, that she was becoming a pest because she is TOO willing, TOO easy to tie, that maybe she should be harder to get. That Ashley was almost bored with her because of her unquestioning compliance.

It crossed my mind that Kayley might be called upon to help Ashley convince her girls to all be tied up together

Or maybe my focus is off and I am mixing up story elements…

But what a great job! Inspired!
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Post by RopeBunny »

Mr Underheel wrote: 2 years ago I couldn’t help thinking from time to time that Kayley was almost resented by Ashley, that she was becoming a pest because she is TOO willing, TOO easy to tie, that maybe she should be harder to get. That Ashley was almost bored with her because of her unquestioning compliance.
Honestly, wasn't the angle I was going for with Kayley and Ashley's developing friendship. I had thought I was writing to show that Ashley enjoys tying Kayley, but is unsure why Kayley always willingly plays along.

Still. That's what I get for having no proof reader :lol:

Thanks for commenting, I'm glad to read you're enjoying the story.
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Post by SinfulSloth »

Love the story, very unique. I really like the characters and their interactions, can't wait for the next part!
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Post by RopeBunny »

006.
Kayley.

Ashley stands, tossing the tape and scissors onto her bed as she stretches, arms thrown wide in possible mockery of my own pinned limbs. She's smiling, her gaze, I'm fairly certain, on my chest.

Does she like the view?

I'm stood in the rough centre of her room, which is larger then mine, on a par with Emma's. So far the layout of this house has mirrored my own. I'm sure Ashley's an only child, so, I wonder what they, her parents, use the third bedroom for?

Needless to say I am very jealous of her bed, not just any old double but a fancy four poster. Ashley's tapping one of the posts now, the nearest one on the beds foot end. "Time for stage two of my evil plan." Giving me her best theatrical bad guy grin, tapping the post again. "Come here little rabbit."

She's never referred to me as a rabbit before today, and might not again. But it is a fitting nickname when viewed through the lens of our relationship, such as it is. Ashley ties me up, very much in charge, very much the predator. And I let her, making me the prey, which is mostly what rabbits are. Rabbits get eaten. Rabbits don't eat sharks or lions.

Except. I came here with a plan to be the lion.

My wand, Fury, it works. I had that orange plastic cup several metres off the floor, spinning. No strings, no trick of the light or camera. I did it. Actual real magic.

So why didn't it work on Ashley?

I'll have to ponder the problem later, because, apparently quite eager to finish wrapping me up- and for all that I set out to tie her up, I'm eager too -Ashley pats the post again.

But I can't walk. My whole lower body, from stomach to ankles, is wrapped very tightly, arms pinned to my sides, legs pinned together. I peer down at my feet, then back up at Ashley. If I weren't gagged I'd wonder aloud how she expects me to cross the room?

"You'll have to hop," grinning, pushing away from the post to give me space, answering my unasked question, "like a little bunny rabbit."

Of course each hop causes my unsupported E cups to bounce, up then down. I must look quite the sight. Starting carefully, slowly, lest I misjudge and fall over, but after a half dozen attempts I've gained enough confidence to make the remaining hops all at once. Up, down, up, down.

Bounce bounce bounce.

"Well." Laughing, but her eyes are wide. "Wow." Ashley twirls her hand at me. "Turn around, and, back up against the post."

Which makes me feel, amusingly, like a large ship manoeuvring in port. Three hops brings me about face, nipples pointing towards the door, the path to escape were I to actually care about such things. Followed by four small backwards hops, bringing my clingfilm covered butt into contact with the wooden post.

"Good." The second roll of clingfilm in hand, standing in front of me. "Now, hold still."

She laughs, more so when I roll my eyes at her bad joke.

The bed post connects with the bed frame low down and high above my head, at the top. At the lower point the frame is at around calf height. So that part of me Ashley can't bind to the post. For the rest of my body though she has no such obstructions.

Kneeling, she begins at my ankles, having to turn the clingfilm almost sideways to fit under the bed, but still managing to do a good, tight, job.

Bringing the wrap up my front, bypassing the bed frame by way of a steep climb from heels to knees, Ashley begins wrapping again. None of these laps are just of my body, each one is around body and circular post, joining girl to bed. Making sure I can't leave.

Reaching my waist, still wrapping, pressing, smoothing. Still ensuring everything's tight. Climbing higher, approaching.

"Can't cover these up." Holding the roll with one hand, reaching out with her other. Tentative. Stopping. Ashley looks me in the eyes, a small smile playing across her parted lips. "I've got to have something to look at whilst you're here, keeping me company."

Her stopped hand moves, and my breath catches as I feel her touching me, lifting first one breast, then the other. Because I'm young my breasts sit high regardless of whether I wear a bra. Ashley passes and presses the sticky wrapping right up against the base of each breast.

She does this six times. Six passes under my breasts, six chances for her to- gently, but still -grope and stroke each one in turn as she lifts, then lowers. She smiles the whole time. I can see the act of touching me so intimately is affecting her too, her breath is shallow, almost whisper quiet, and she keeps licking her lips, refusing to meet my eyes save for the occasional darted glance. For me, my heart feels like a race car on the home straight, faster and faster. I've got tingles all the way down my belly to my crotch, and my nipples feel, despite the fact Ashley's come nowhere near touching them, as though they could cut through diamond they're so hard.

"Need to go higher," Ashley laughs, breaking at least some of the built up tension, "damn goal defence players."

I'm tall for a girl, not far off six foot, a height, like most other things about me, I got from Dad. It makes me the perfect fit to play defence for the netball team as I'm often one of the tallest girls on the pitch, especially given we play in the under sixteens league. Ashley's a more normal five five. She plays attack, of course.

Still keeping the clingfilm pressed tight to my body, she climbs up onto her bed and around behind me, now wrapping above my breasts, no longer touching that part of me, though I can still feel the ghost of her attentions from moments ago.

My hard nipples, my tingles, will come and go for most of the day.

Somehow, Ashley manages to wrap my forehead to her bed post too. Having done my shoulders, she moves onwards up my neck, wrapping all the way to below my chin. A steep pass around the back, and, with the clingfilm tilted sideways, she wraps the very top of me, forcing my head to remain in place now.

"Can't even nod huh?"
"Fffmmmpf mmmhmm fffff."
"Thought not." Ashley's grinning face peering around from the left side. "Almost done." She nods, and begins using up the remaining clingfilm, wrapping her way back down my body.

She doesn't touch my breasts on this pass.

"Now." Tossing the empty roll after the first. "Tape," picking up the tape, "lets seal you up." Which, like when she used tape the first time, involves wrapping me crisscross fashion from ankles to forehead, then back down. More overkill.

"Well." Huffing out a breath, stood in front of me, hands on hips as she looks me up and down. Nods. "Damn but that took forever." Ashley smiles. "Worth it though. Nod if you agree?"
"Fffmmppfmmmmmm."
"Ha." Taking a step closer. "You know," reaching out, causing a sudden panic yes no please but please don't, wriggle from me. Because of course she's reaching for my breasts, "maybe I should come and check things over?"

Ashley grins, her hand hovering over my right breast, her eyes searching mine. For permission? For confirmation that I want her too?

She's never cared before. Has tied me up so many times and never once stopped to check yes or no first.

"Well." Poised, on the brink as I fight to control my breathing, seeing Ashley's small chest rising and falling in time to my own. Faster.

And then my phone pings.

"Oh?" Huffing out a breath, and just like that the moment passes. Looking from me to my tossed aside jeans. "Yours?"
"Mmff ffffpphmmmm mmm."
"Sure sure." Waving my comment away. "I'll be your secretary." Ashley laughs. "Field your calls and shit." Hunkering down, hand reaching in and out of pockets. "Ah ha." Out comes my phone. "Here." Flicking at the screen. "Sister Em? Hmmm. Wants to know where you are. Well." Tap tap tap. "And. Send." Tossing my phone back down. "I told her something came up. She'll understand right?"
"Mmfmmmfpmmm."

"You know what," stopping halfway to me, one finger of one hand raised. Look at the idea I've just had. "Maybe I should make sure you've no other urgent messages."

"Well, let's see." Standing over my messy pile of clothes, my phone in her hands. "You've got...." Looking puzzled. "Oh."

Did I mention I've got no friends? In some ways I don't even need a phone, except that Dad wants us, me and Em, to be contactable no matter where we might wander. Having no friends makes my contact list very small: parents, including works numbers, and Em.

"But?" Ashley frowns down at my screen. How many numbers does she have I wonder. Then she smiles. "Tell you what," tap tap tap, "there." Across the room a second phone, perched atop Ashley's desk, begins to ring. Stops. "Now you've got my number too. You know," a shrug, what starts as a smile, becoming something slightly more nervous, "if you want to hang out."

Does hang out translate as be tied up?

"Right. Well. Here's the plan." Ashley jerks a thumb over her shoulder, at the bedroom door. "I need a shower. So." A grin, her old, cocky bully self, returning. "Feel free to wait here for me Kayley."

A shower turns into who knows what, because she's gone for almost two hours. I shouldn't be surprised, after all, abandoning me, or anyone she's tied up, is what she loves to do most.

I make four good attempts at escaping. Knowing before I even try the first time that my situation is hopeless, but trying anyway. If I'd had my knife, or anything sharp, breaking free would be easy, but it's in my backpack, which is across the room. It might as well be on Mars.

It occurs to me that this will be the first time I haven't been able to escape one of Ashley's ties. Whether in the woods, that one time in my own house, or wherever. She ties me, she abandons me, then I've. Always. Managed to eventually break free. Realising that I'm helpless is a strange feeling. I'm not scared. It's Ashley after all, not some gang of unknowns. It's actually quite thrilling, having to wait here, even more so given my exposed breasts.

And I've been wrapped up so well. I, genuinely, can't move a single limb. I can wriggle my body, but an inch left or right is hardly good movement.

Slowly my mind begins to daydream down the paths of what ifs, and I can feel myself becoming excited at the myriad possibilities. All the things Ashley could do to me. Because I'm at her mercy here. Completely.

She could touch me again. Properly this time. My breasts, those large E's I'm so proud of, make for an obvious target should she be in a mood to take advantage of helpless me. She could even kiss them. Lick them.

Maybe her friends will turn up, either some or all of the five girls Ashley regularly hangs out with. What might they want to do to me? What might Ashley do, to me, to show off in front of her gang?

By the time Ashley does return, wandering casually into her bedroom, dressed in a large baggy purple tee and a black thong, I've managed work myself, mentally, into quite a state.

"Still here then?"
"Mmmff ffffpffmmm mmmmm." She grins, steps closer. "I've decided to remove your gag. So we can talk."

Which she does, carefully, managing to slice though the medical bandage before pulling it off my face.

"There." Tossing it into a small metal bin beside her desk. "Better?"
"Yes." Taking a moment, working feeling back into my jaws. "Better, thanks."
"Well." A shrug. "I'll probably let you go soon anyway, so...." Tilting her head to regard me. Ashley laughs. "Are you pouting?"
"What?" Shit. I had been too. All my daydreams, and instead I'll simply be let go. "Um. Maybe?"
"You don't want to be untied?" A cheeky smile, she's fetched over a folding chair, is sitting backwards on it, facing me, arms resting on the raised back.

"Well." Blushing. "I. Um. Kinda like being tied up."
"Ha." Laughing, pointing at me. "I. Knew it. I knew you were into it."
"Oh." Blushing some more. "Sorry. Um. Is that bad?"
"Not for me." Grinning. Turning suddenly serious, looking down at her feet. "I. Um. Well. I always enjoy tying you up, more then. Um."
"More then other girls?"
"Yeah." Gaze shifting back up, giving me a half smile. "Crazy huh?"
"Crazy." I smile back.

"So why are you letting me go," feeling bold, though I've no clue why, "if you like me tied up?"
"I have to go out." She doesn't look happy about it. "See some sheep."
"Sheep?" I laugh, she smiles. "Why do you need to see sheep?"
"Sometimes," shaking her head, looking me up and down, "I wonder that same thing myself."

"Haven't you ever wanted to be...."
"Be...?" I can't turn my head, to look. Which is probably a good thing, since Ashley's currently behind me, getting changed. I know this because she told me, plus I can hear drawers and doors being opened and closed. It. Almost. Doesn't seem fair, that I can't see. After she's seen mine. No answer, I try again. "Be what?"
"Haven't you ever wanted," re-emerging, dressed in tight white jeans and pulling a pink vans tee down over a plain white bra, "to be a bully?"
"Me?" The question, unexpected, I frown. "Why?"

"Just." Ashley steps into a pair of black Adidas, shrugs her arms. "Doesn't matter."

Producing a knife from a desk drawer, not a flip out like mine but an actual sharp knife like you'd keep in a toolkit, Ashley sets about carefully cutting me free, sliding the knife between me and the bedpost, using a gentle sawing motion. "I'll be in the kitchen." Already walking to her bedroom door, swinging it open. "Come down once you're dressed."
"Okay." I nod, but Ashley has her phone out, is already leaving me to it.

She still doesn't look happy.
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Post by RopeBunny »

Evening to all.

Should it be of any interest, to anyone, I've just updated (meaning I drew them again) the three current illustrations :D
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Post by Nainur »

thanks - I wouldn't have noticed. Nicely done, too!
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