As requested....
Schoolgirls playing with ropes.
The Box (f+/f+)
The Box (f+/f+)
Last edited by RopeBunny 1 year ago, edited 10 times in total.
001.
"Where's your Mum?"
"America." I shrug. "Maybe."
"Oh." Michelle. Chelle, since we're friends now and all, frowns. Nods. "Kay. What about your Dad?"
"By now?" Glancing at the wall clock, all those black Roman numerals marching around the circle. "Somewhere," thinking, remembering journeys past, "near the German border probably."
"What?" Giving me a look, prehaps trying to work out whether I'm fucking with her.
"Don't worry." Walking to the fridge, grabbing a can of Pepsi for her, water for me. "It's complicated."
The simple version is: Mum left, and Dad drives trucks long distance, all over Europe and Asia, wherever the work is. Probably there's some law against leaving a fourteen year old home alone? But. Shhhhhh.
She didn't tell us. Mum. She just, wasn't home one day. Took all her stuff, took stuff that wasn't hers too. And. Poof. Gone. Like a wizard, but without the puff of smoke.
Fuck her.
Dad moved us north, from Exeter to York for a fresh start. Which meant a new school, and, even though I do fine without, happy with my own company for the most part, a new school means new friends.
Chelle.
A size twelve to my ten, roughly the same height at five six, with a pair of C cups to match her curves. I was an A until recently, not terribly happy about the fact, but I'd learnt to live with it. Figured I was all done growing.
Nope.
Somehow, I'm now sporting a pair of D cups that never seem to stop bouncing, even when I'm stood completely still.
They do. I've checked.
Poor Dad. Not cut out for bra and clothes shopping.
She, Chelle, we just kinda got chatting. I usually wear a red and black puffer jacket, am wearing it now in fact. But last week, unable to find it one morning, in danger of being late for school, I grabbed my black undead hoodie instead. The whole back, and half the zip up front, has a realistic white print of bones, the spine and ribcage.
Turns out Chelle has the same one. Turns out we both like goth stuff: music, fashion, room decorations.
We've been sitting together most lessons, and at lunch, ever since.
And now here we are, here she is. In my home. Because.
"Where's this box then Luce?"
"In my room." Luce, short for Lucinda. "Come on."
My house is only a two bed, but both rooms dominate the upstairs. Dad has an ensuite, I have the bigger built in wardrobes.
"Wow." Nodding, eyes doing a circuit as we enter. "Nice room Luce."
"Thanks." Grinning. "I like it."
The walls are still white, give me time, but I've done a fair job covering the garish brightness with posters. A huge tapestry hangs on one wall, blacks and purples, very Wiccan, phases of the moon and arcane symbols. Elsewhere there's lots of skull themed art, wizard's and dragons. Unicorns. My furniture is a mash up of different coloured wood: single bed, desk and drawer unit. The latter doubling as bedside table. I've got a bookcase too, full of horror and comics, books on mythology and scary monsters.
Candles are scattered throughout the room, and an incense holder- which I light, filling my bedroom with wisps of sandlewood and sage -sits beside my powered down gaming computer. Which is new, because Mum borrowed- stole -my gaming laptop when she left.
Shrugging off my jacket, hanging it on the door. Chelle does the same, her own puffer jacket is dark blue. Shoes were dumped beside the front door, so we're now wearing just the pale blue shirt and black skirt uniform of Willowgrove comprehensive.
Plus the awful looking bright yellow and dark green tie of course.
Opening my wardrobe, bending down, I drag the box out. It's wooden, shaped like three shoe boxes pressed together, long and narrow. It looks home made, with a hinged lid and a padlock clasp. But no padlock. Written atop the box are the words 'have fun' in black marker, beside which someone drew a winking face.
"So." I've lifted the box, which isn't heavy, up onto my bed where Chelle's sat. I sit too, on the other side of the box, bracketing it like an invading army going for a pincer attack. Chelle runs a hand across the rough wood. "It was here when you moved in?"
"In the wardrobe." I nod. Gesture.
"And." Touching it again, the wood isn't smooth, and the visible nails aren't evenly spaced. Definitely homemade. "You didn't show your parents?"
"My Dad." Because, fuck Mum, remember. "No." Shaking my head.
"What's inside?"
"Not a clue." My turn to pat the lid. "It isn't heavy."
"So not booze?" Grinning. "Or a gun."
"Fucking." Laughing, nerves. "Hope not."
"Maybe." Prodding it. "Drugs?"
"Could be?" Running my hand over the words. Have fun. "Do you," I frown, because I don't, haven't, yet, but, "um...?"
"No." Chelles turn at a nervous laugh. "Might be fun though?"
"Sure." Are we. Did I really just agree to smoke the dope I'm about to find?
I open the box.
It. "What the...?" Isn't dope.
Rope. My mystery box, which I hadn't opened, in part, because I was enjoying the little thrill of not knowing. Is full of.
"Rope?"
"Rope." Chelle, nodding, reaches in and pulls some out. I do too.
There must be close to two dozen coiled lengths in the box, all neatly wrapped and tied off. The rope is brown, thin, with a coarse texture that feels bumpy and rough against my palm.
Dropping my rope onto the bed, I burrow through the box, checking. But.
"It's." Picking the rope back up, dropping it back into the box. "Just rope."
"Yeah?" Still holding her piece, twirling it around. "S' good rope though."
"It." Frowning. How do you tell good rope from bad. "Is?"
I can't help but feel somewhat let down, by the universe. Almost. I want to close the box, put it away, go back to the ignorance of not knowing. Go back to playing let's pretend. After all, there could be anything inside that box.
"Have fun." Lid closed, I trace a finger over the words this time, each letter in turn. Pull a face. "With rope? How?"
"Want me to show you?" Chelle, still twirling the length she pulled from the box, facing me across the bed, grins.
"Where's your Mum?"
"America." I shrug. "Maybe."
"Oh." Michelle. Chelle, since we're friends now and all, frowns. Nods. "Kay. What about your Dad?"
"By now?" Glancing at the wall clock, all those black Roman numerals marching around the circle. "Somewhere," thinking, remembering journeys past, "near the German border probably."
"What?" Giving me a look, prehaps trying to work out whether I'm fucking with her.
"Don't worry." Walking to the fridge, grabbing a can of Pepsi for her, water for me. "It's complicated."
The simple version is: Mum left, and Dad drives trucks long distance, all over Europe and Asia, wherever the work is. Probably there's some law against leaving a fourteen year old home alone? But. Shhhhhh.
She didn't tell us. Mum. She just, wasn't home one day. Took all her stuff, took stuff that wasn't hers too. And. Poof. Gone. Like a wizard, but without the puff of smoke.
Fuck her.
Dad moved us north, from Exeter to York for a fresh start. Which meant a new school, and, even though I do fine without, happy with my own company for the most part, a new school means new friends.
Chelle.
A size twelve to my ten, roughly the same height at five six, with a pair of C cups to match her curves. I was an A until recently, not terribly happy about the fact, but I'd learnt to live with it. Figured I was all done growing.
Nope.
Somehow, I'm now sporting a pair of D cups that never seem to stop bouncing, even when I'm stood completely still.
They do. I've checked.
Poor Dad. Not cut out for bra and clothes shopping.
She, Chelle, we just kinda got chatting. I usually wear a red and black puffer jacket, am wearing it now in fact. But last week, unable to find it one morning, in danger of being late for school, I grabbed my black undead hoodie instead. The whole back, and half the zip up front, has a realistic white print of bones, the spine and ribcage.
Turns out Chelle has the same one. Turns out we both like goth stuff: music, fashion, room decorations.
We've been sitting together most lessons, and at lunch, ever since.
And now here we are, here she is. In my home. Because.
"Where's this box then Luce?"
"In my room." Luce, short for Lucinda. "Come on."
My house is only a two bed, but both rooms dominate the upstairs. Dad has an ensuite, I have the bigger built in wardrobes.
"Wow." Nodding, eyes doing a circuit as we enter. "Nice room Luce."
"Thanks." Grinning. "I like it."
The walls are still white, give me time, but I've done a fair job covering the garish brightness with posters. A huge tapestry hangs on one wall, blacks and purples, very Wiccan, phases of the moon and arcane symbols. Elsewhere there's lots of skull themed art, wizard's and dragons. Unicorns. My furniture is a mash up of different coloured wood: single bed, desk and drawer unit. The latter doubling as bedside table. I've got a bookcase too, full of horror and comics, books on mythology and scary monsters.
Candles are scattered throughout the room, and an incense holder- which I light, filling my bedroom with wisps of sandlewood and sage -sits beside my powered down gaming computer. Which is new, because Mum borrowed- stole -my gaming laptop when she left.
Shrugging off my jacket, hanging it on the door. Chelle does the same, her own puffer jacket is dark blue. Shoes were dumped beside the front door, so we're now wearing just the pale blue shirt and black skirt uniform of Willowgrove comprehensive.
Plus the awful looking bright yellow and dark green tie of course.
Opening my wardrobe, bending down, I drag the box out. It's wooden, shaped like three shoe boxes pressed together, long and narrow. It looks home made, with a hinged lid and a padlock clasp. But no padlock. Written atop the box are the words 'have fun' in black marker, beside which someone drew a winking face.
"So." I've lifted the box, which isn't heavy, up onto my bed where Chelle's sat. I sit too, on the other side of the box, bracketing it like an invading army going for a pincer attack. Chelle runs a hand across the rough wood. "It was here when you moved in?"
"In the wardrobe." I nod. Gesture.
"And." Touching it again, the wood isn't smooth, and the visible nails aren't evenly spaced. Definitely homemade. "You didn't show your parents?"
"My Dad." Because, fuck Mum, remember. "No." Shaking my head.
"What's inside?"
"Not a clue." My turn to pat the lid. "It isn't heavy."
"So not booze?" Grinning. "Or a gun."
"Fucking." Laughing, nerves. "Hope not."
"Maybe." Prodding it. "Drugs?"
"Could be?" Running my hand over the words. Have fun. "Do you," I frown, because I don't, haven't, yet, but, "um...?"
"No." Chelles turn at a nervous laugh. "Might be fun though?"
"Sure." Are we. Did I really just agree to smoke the dope I'm about to find?
I open the box.
It. "What the...?" Isn't dope.
Rope. My mystery box, which I hadn't opened, in part, because I was enjoying the little thrill of not knowing. Is full of.
"Rope?"
"Rope." Chelle, nodding, reaches in and pulls some out. I do too.
There must be close to two dozen coiled lengths in the box, all neatly wrapped and tied off. The rope is brown, thin, with a coarse texture that feels bumpy and rough against my palm.
Dropping my rope onto the bed, I burrow through the box, checking. But.
"It's." Picking the rope back up, dropping it back into the box. "Just rope."
"Yeah?" Still holding her piece, twirling it around. "S' good rope though."
"It." Frowning. How do you tell good rope from bad. "Is?"
I can't help but feel somewhat let down, by the universe. Almost. I want to close the box, put it away, go back to the ignorance of not knowing. Go back to playing let's pretend. After all, there could be anything inside that box.
"Have fun." Lid closed, I trace a finger over the words this time, each letter in turn. Pull a face. "With rope? How?"
"Want me to show you?" Chelle, still twirling the length she pulled from the box, facing me across the bed, grins.
Fantastic start as ever 
Great start RopeBunny 
-
slackywacky
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 2624
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: Canada
Oh joy, another goodie coming from RopeBunny! 
Thank you. Let's see where this is going...
Thank you. Let's see where this is going...
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt
My active stories:
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt
My active stories:
- All in the family - Updated 24/04
- Bondage model by choice - Updated 10/04
- Hitchhiker - Updated 29/03
-
TightsBound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 589
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: CT, USA
Intriguing start! It almost feels like it could almost be a prequel to Plymouth. Almost. Looking forward to seeing where you take us on this one!
Another win for democracy! Also, hot dang, good start 
Literally just picked out a selection.
Thank you all though, truly. These are the most comments I've had off a story post in forever
Also....
This made me laugh. Thank you
002.
"Okay." Not thinking. Later, after Chelle leaves, all I'll do is think. But, ignorant as I currently am. Rope is just rope. Right? I don't think things through. I nod. "Show me."
"Great." Chelle nods. Stands, gestures. "Stand up, and. Um. Turn around."
"Turn around?" Frowning. "How will I see if I'm facing the other way?"
"I'm going to show you by doing." Explaining it to me, which doesn't help, it still, her point, makes no sense. "Now." Another gesture. "Turn around, Luce."
Okay. Why not. Standing, I, out of habit, brush my skirt smooth. The school skirts are black, fastened at the waist with a buckle and small zip on the left side. They're quite a tight fit, hugging the legs rather then flaring out like some of my dresses. They also- though I've no clue why, because it's a school skirt -finish quite far above the knee.
Turning, I put my back to Chelle, fixing my gaze on the window, the rooftops of the houses across the street, and beyond that farmers fields climbing up to the horizon point.
The pale blue shirts we all, girls and boys, wear are short sleeved. Always worn tucked in, as mine and Chelle's- even though school's over -currently are. Boys ones tend to run on the baggy side, but the girls fit, especially for those of us with a pair of troublesome D cups but a skinny waist, tend to be quite tight. You can't see every curve, but even a brief glance will clearly show I'm packing some mighty big guns.
The point is: after Chelle moves both arms behind my back, lets go, I suddenly feel the coarse rope rubbing against my crossed, bare, wrists.
"What the...?" Jerking forward, which, because she's still got hold of the doubled over rope ends, yanks the loop around my wrists tight. Pinching my skin. "Chelle?" Turning around. Mouth quirking in amusement at the trail of rope leading from my wrists, around my butt, back to Chelle's hands. "What's going on?"
"I'm showing you how rope can be fun." Giving the rope a playful tug, which pulls at my wrists, spinning me back around to face the window. "Remember?"
"But?" Frowning. Staying with my back to her, but. "You're tying me up?"
"Yep." Grinning. I can hear it.
"Tying me up is." A smile tugs at my own lips. It's nuts. Right? Crazy. But. "Fun?"
"I think so."
"And." Um. "You've done this before?"
"I've seen videos."
"Oh." Really? Where? And, what happened? "Right." Well. I shrug. What else is there to do. Since she's already started. "Carry on then."
She does.
"And." Giving my wrists a shake. "Done."
"Sure?" Wriggling my arms, wrists, an unfamiliar- but not bad -feeling, are pinned tight. Pinned in place. "I mean." Giving my head a shake, tossing long brown slightly curling hair back over my shoulders. I turn. Find Chelle smirking. I tut. "I think maybe you could've done it just a liiiiiiitle bit tighter."
"No point in binding the ropes loose." A shrug, still smirking. "You'll only escape."
"Hmmmm." But smiling. "Am I not supposed to escape?"
"Nope."
"Right. Um." Why not? "Should I not even try? Isn't." Movies, comics. Doesn't the damsel try? "Isn't that how it works? Um. You tie me up, and then I try to escape?"
"Is it?"
"Well." Is it? I wriggle my arms again. Definitely not going to find any loose rope back there. "Um."
"Is that what you'd like to do?" Sitting back down, Chelle opens up the box, fingering the rope as she looks up at me. "Get tied up?"
"Aren't I already tied up?"
"Little bit." Nodding. "But." Picking a second coiled length from the box. "Is one rope enough to call it tied up?"
"You want to tie me up some more?" I smile, almost laugh, because the whole thing is quite funny. Who would've thought I'd be getting tied up today?
"Well it was your idea."
"It." Really? "Was?"
"Definitely." Sat at my feet, rope in hand, already doubled up and looped once around my bare- because I'm wearing little black socks that barely cover my foot and heel -ankles. "You said." Tugging the rope, closing the loop, forcing my legs together. Chelle looks up at me, her face a grin as I peer back down, over the twin humps my D cups make in the tight school shirt. "You," pointing at herself, "tie me," pointing at me, "up. And then I," pointing at me again, "try to escape."
"I said that?"
"Yes." Wrapping loops around my ankles, eyes back on the task. Chelle nods. "You said that was the plan."
And, the silly thing is, I can't remember. The ropes, the strange sensations being bound is causing, are playing hell with my ability to recall things.
My skin, there's a little tingle running around, chasing a circuit from belly to breasts. My nipples, out of nowhere as Chelle yanks an ankle knot tight, the rope digging into my skin, harden. Pressing into my white bra. I feel a little light headed, like floating.
"What do you think." Standing back up, brushing her own skirt back into shape since sitting with spread legs has caused it to ride halfway up to her crotch. "Enough ropes?"
"My choice," watching that cheeky grin grow, "is it?"
"Doubt it." Shaking her head. "Doesn't mean you can't have an opinion though."
"Well." Fidgeting my legs, almost falling over. Chelle laughs. I stop, stand still. Tut. "My opinion is that these ropes are really fucking tight."
"Yes." Nodding. "But." Like a teacher, twirling her hand at me. Go on, finish that sentence.
"Yes yes." Shaking my head. "I know. It has to be tight, because I'm not supposed to escape."
"Exactly." Sitting herself down on my bed. "Going to come sit, Luce?"
"Um." Looking, tracing a path across the floor from where I'm stood, to the bed. Eying, but not very well because my D cups are in the way, my bound ankles. "How?"
"Hop?" Shrugging, keeping a straight face even though her eyes are full of mischief. "I guess?"
Never thought I'd miss my A cups. I take it slow, careful, very mindful of how easy it would be to lose my balance. Which I nearly did a moment ago. And if I do fall my bound arms won't save me. On the spot I hop, four small bounces to turn myself around, coming about like a ship in port to face my bed.
Of course every hop, every up then down as I push off with my toes, causes my D cups to bounce.
"Oh for." Shaking my head. "Honestly."
"You're doing great." Huge smile on her face, clearly enjoying the show she caused by binding me. "Come on."
"Fucking." Hop. Bounce. I tut. "You could look a little less pleased with yourself."
"I could." Nodding. Hop. Bounce. "But."
"But watching me is." Hop. Bounce. "Too much fun. Right?"
"Yep."
Having reached the bed I'm forced to make another series of small on the spot hops to turn around, bringing my butt flush with the mattress, allowing a controlled fall backwards, a huffed out breath as I land.
"Well." Looking to the side, at Chelle. "What happens now?"
"Now you try to escape?"
"So you're not going to untie me?"
"Nope." Shaking her head. I squirm, my belly fluttering at her casual refusal. I'd asked the question for real, expecting that, yes, now I've made it to the bed, it must be time to set me free. But, strangely, Chelle's decision- and for some reason I feel unable to argue the point -to make me struggle for my own freedom, isn't upsetting. Or annoying.
Instead it sounds fun.
"I've tied you up." Nodding, at my wrists. "Now you have to try and escape."
"Not. Um." Am I really teasing her over this? "Going to add any more ropes?"
"Maybe next time."
"Right." What? Next time?
"So." How does this work? "How...?"
"Let's say a half hour." Crossing the room, pulling a phone from her school bag, which is a purple backpack. Chelle tap taps at the screen. "I'll set a timer. Okay?"
"A timer?"
"For you to escape." Smiling. "Like. Well, there's always a timer when the damsel tries to escape. You know. Something bad's going to happen in a half hour unless you're free in time."
Which makes me laugh. What could possibly happen, what bad thing, if I'm still tied up in thirty minutes?
"Okay." Nodding. "I'll be free long before your silly alarm goes off and some asteroid crashes into Neptune, or something. Anyway."
"Sounds like fighting talk." Laughing. Turning her phone to face me, I can see 00:30:00 on the display.
"And." Phone back facing her. "Go."
Whilst Chelle wanders over to my desk, to the black and green wheeled gaming chair, which she sits down in, I wriggle properly up onto my bed, laying myself down along the length toes up by the headboard, face close to Chelle.
Now. How am I supposed to get out of these ropes?
I'll never reach my ankles, not with my wrists bound behind me. I try anyway, laid on my belly, grunting, flinging my legs up and in, trying to grab at the rope with my hands.
I roll onto my side, back to the wall- my bed is pushed up against one wall of my room -and try again. Reaching with my arms, bending my legs. Hair falls in my face, I ignore it. Working blind, grunting some more, my body bucking and wriggling as I attempt what seems impossible.
It is. Impossible.
"Fucks sake." Huffing, rolling onto my belly. "How much time left Chelle?"
"Until the meteor?"
"Asteroid." I frown. "Wasn't it?"
"Maybe." A shrug. Chelle smiles. "You know you make a cute hostage."
"Shut up." Tutting, but smiling too. It is, this whole thing, still quite funny. Not to mention being bound is still making my belly tingle. "How long?"
"Eighteen minutes till impact."
"Right." Nodding. "Fuck. Okay."
New plan.
If I wriggle enough, I can work my wrists loose.
Maybe?
So. Ignoring my ankles, though I wriggle my legs too, because you never know, I proceed to roll around on my bed, pulling and yanking at my wrists as I do.
Rolling over, onto my back, breasts and belly- exposed, my belly, seems at some point I've worked my shirt loose of my skirt -pointed at the ceiling. I struggle some more. Squirming. Rubbing my wrists against the sheet covered mattress. I bounce my body up and down, ignoring what that does to my D cups, which start to act as though in an earthquake, constantly in motion.
But. For all my exertions. Nothing happens. My wrist and ankle ropes remain as tight as when Chelle applied them.
I am. Still. Stuck. Helpless.
"And." Stood up, hand held high in a balled fist, looking at her phone. "5. 4." Fist falling slowly, towards the bed. "3." I shake my head, seeing that it's on course to land beside me. "2. 1. And." Fist hits the mattress, next to my head, where Chelle bounces it back up again, Fist opening out. "Boom." Like an explosion. She grins, I can't help but smile back. "Impact. Game over."
"So." Wriggling myself around, Chelle watches, clearly amused, as I bring my body side on to where she's now sat, on my bed. "What happens now?" I wave my wrists at her. "You free me, yes?"
"Well...."
"Chelle!" Half shouted. Shock, and nerves, mixed in at her reluctant tone. "Get these ropes off." I smile. "Please."
"Oh alright then." Turning to face me. "If I must."
"Should've gagged you." Muttered, but loudly enough for me to hear, as she works the knots on my wrists loose. "Then you'd have to stay tied up."
"You wouldn't?" Turning, looking. Chelle shrugs. Grins.
"I would've thought." Wrists free, tossing the rope off my bed, Chelle moves onto my ankles. "That if you can't get free, then I get to do what I want." Giving my ankle ropes a tug. "With you."
"But...?"
"But...?" Giving me a smile. "But. What, Luce?"
I offer to cook, that she could stay for dinner. But. "I've got to get home." Stood in my front door, coat on, bag slung over one shoulder. "Another time though."
"Another time." I nod, wave her off.
Cook a dinner I barely taste, sat in front of a flatscreen playing a movie I'm not watching.
My mind is elsewhere. I am, now that Chelle's gone, now that it's all over, thinking.
"Okay." Not thinking. Later, after Chelle leaves, all I'll do is think. But, ignorant as I currently am. Rope is just rope. Right? I don't think things through. I nod. "Show me."
"Great." Chelle nods. Stands, gestures. "Stand up, and. Um. Turn around."
"Turn around?" Frowning. "How will I see if I'm facing the other way?"
"I'm going to show you by doing." Explaining it to me, which doesn't help, it still, her point, makes no sense. "Now." Another gesture. "Turn around, Luce."
Okay. Why not. Standing, I, out of habit, brush my skirt smooth. The school skirts are black, fastened at the waist with a buckle and small zip on the left side. They're quite a tight fit, hugging the legs rather then flaring out like some of my dresses. They also- though I've no clue why, because it's a school skirt -finish quite far above the knee.
Turning, I put my back to Chelle, fixing my gaze on the window, the rooftops of the houses across the street, and beyond that farmers fields climbing up to the horizon point.
The pale blue shirts we all, girls and boys, wear are short sleeved. Always worn tucked in, as mine and Chelle's- even though school's over -currently are. Boys ones tend to run on the baggy side, but the girls fit, especially for those of us with a pair of troublesome D cups but a skinny waist, tend to be quite tight. You can't see every curve, but even a brief glance will clearly show I'm packing some mighty big guns.
The point is: after Chelle moves both arms behind my back, lets go, I suddenly feel the coarse rope rubbing against my crossed, bare, wrists.
"What the...?" Jerking forward, which, because she's still got hold of the doubled over rope ends, yanks the loop around my wrists tight. Pinching my skin. "Chelle?" Turning around. Mouth quirking in amusement at the trail of rope leading from my wrists, around my butt, back to Chelle's hands. "What's going on?"
"I'm showing you how rope can be fun." Giving the rope a playful tug, which pulls at my wrists, spinning me back around to face the window. "Remember?"
"But?" Frowning. Staying with my back to her, but. "You're tying me up?"
"Yep." Grinning. I can hear it.
"Tying me up is." A smile tugs at my own lips. It's nuts. Right? Crazy. But. "Fun?"
"I think so."
"And." Um. "You've done this before?"
"I've seen videos."
"Oh." Really? Where? And, what happened? "Right." Well. I shrug. What else is there to do. Since she's already started. "Carry on then."
She does.
"And." Giving my wrists a shake. "Done."
"Sure?" Wriggling my arms, wrists, an unfamiliar- but not bad -feeling, are pinned tight. Pinned in place. "I mean." Giving my head a shake, tossing long brown slightly curling hair back over my shoulders. I turn. Find Chelle smirking. I tut. "I think maybe you could've done it just a liiiiiiitle bit tighter."
"No point in binding the ropes loose." A shrug, still smirking. "You'll only escape."
"Hmmmm." But smiling. "Am I not supposed to escape?"
"Nope."
"Right. Um." Why not? "Should I not even try? Isn't." Movies, comics. Doesn't the damsel try? "Isn't that how it works? Um. You tie me up, and then I try to escape?"
"Is it?"
"Well." Is it? I wriggle my arms again. Definitely not going to find any loose rope back there. "Um."
"Is that what you'd like to do?" Sitting back down, Chelle opens up the box, fingering the rope as she looks up at me. "Get tied up?"
"Aren't I already tied up?"
"Little bit." Nodding. "But." Picking a second coiled length from the box. "Is one rope enough to call it tied up?"
"You want to tie me up some more?" I smile, almost laugh, because the whole thing is quite funny. Who would've thought I'd be getting tied up today?
"Well it was your idea."
"It." Really? "Was?"
"Definitely." Sat at my feet, rope in hand, already doubled up and looped once around my bare- because I'm wearing little black socks that barely cover my foot and heel -ankles. "You said." Tugging the rope, closing the loop, forcing my legs together. Chelle looks up at me, her face a grin as I peer back down, over the twin humps my D cups make in the tight school shirt. "You," pointing at herself, "tie me," pointing at me, "up. And then I," pointing at me again, "try to escape."
"I said that?"
"Yes." Wrapping loops around my ankles, eyes back on the task. Chelle nods. "You said that was the plan."
And, the silly thing is, I can't remember. The ropes, the strange sensations being bound is causing, are playing hell with my ability to recall things.
My skin, there's a little tingle running around, chasing a circuit from belly to breasts. My nipples, out of nowhere as Chelle yanks an ankle knot tight, the rope digging into my skin, harden. Pressing into my white bra. I feel a little light headed, like floating.
"What do you think." Standing back up, brushing her own skirt back into shape since sitting with spread legs has caused it to ride halfway up to her crotch. "Enough ropes?"
"My choice," watching that cheeky grin grow, "is it?"
"Doubt it." Shaking her head. "Doesn't mean you can't have an opinion though."
"Well." Fidgeting my legs, almost falling over. Chelle laughs. I stop, stand still. Tut. "My opinion is that these ropes are really fucking tight."
"Yes." Nodding. "But." Like a teacher, twirling her hand at me. Go on, finish that sentence.
"Yes yes." Shaking my head. "I know. It has to be tight, because I'm not supposed to escape."
"Exactly." Sitting herself down on my bed. "Going to come sit, Luce?"
"Um." Looking, tracing a path across the floor from where I'm stood, to the bed. Eying, but not very well because my D cups are in the way, my bound ankles. "How?"
"Hop?" Shrugging, keeping a straight face even though her eyes are full of mischief. "I guess?"
Never thought I'd miss my A cups. I take it slow, careful, very mindful of how easy it would be to lose my balance. Which I nearly did a moment ago. And if I do fall my bound arms won't save me. On the spot I hop, four small bounces to turn myself around, coming about like a ship in port to face my bed.
Of course every hop, every up then down as I push off with my toes, causes my D cups to bounce.
"Oh for." Shaking my head. "Honestly."
"You're doing great." Huge smile on her face, clearly enjoying the show she caused by binding me. "Come on."
"Fucking." Hop. Bounce. I tut. "You could look a little less pleased with yourself."
"I could." Nodding. Hop. Bounce. "But."
"But watching me is." Hop. Bounce. "Too much fun. Right?"
"Yep."
Having reached the bed I'm forced to make another series of small on the spot hops to turn around, bringing my butt flush with the mattress, allowing a controlled fall backwards, a huffed out breath as I land.
"Well." Looking to the side, at Chelle. "What happens now?"
"Now you try to escape?"
"So you're not going to untie me?"
"Nope." Shaking her head. I squirm, my belly fluttering at her casual refusal. I'd asked the question for real, expecting that, yes, now I've made it to the bed, it must be time to set me free. But, strangely, Chelle's decision- and for some reason I feel unable to argue the point -to make me struggle for my own freedom, isn't upsetting. Or annoying.
Instead it sounds fun.
"I've tied you up." Nodding, at my wrists. "Now you have to try and escape."
"Not. Um." Am I really teasing her over this? "Going to add any more ropes?"
"Maybe next time."
"Right." What? Next time?
"So." How does this work? "How...?"
"Let's say a half hour." Crossing the room, pulling a phone from her school bag, which is a purple backpack. Chelle tap taps at the screen. "I'll set a timer. Okay?"
"A timer?"
"For you to escape." Smiling. "Like. Well, there's always a timer when the damsel tries to escape. You know. Something bad's going to happen in a half hour unless you're free in time."
Which makes me laugh. What could possibly happen, what bad thing, if I'm still tied up in thirty minutes?
"Okay." Nodding. "I'll be free long before your silly alarm goes off and some asteroid crashes into Neptune, or something. Anyway."
"Sounds like fighting talk." Laughing. Turning her phone to face me, I can see 00:30:00 on the display.
"And." Phone back facing her. "Go."
Whilst Chelle wanders over to my desk, to the black and green wheeled gaming chair, which she sits down in, I wriggle properly up onto my bed, laying myself down along the length toes up by the headboard, face close to Chelle.
Now. How am I supposed to get out of these ropes?
I'll never reach my ankles, not with my wrists bound behind me. I try anyway, laid on my belly, grunting, flinging my legs up and in, trying to grab at the rope with my hands.
I roll onto my side, back to the wall- my bed is pushed up against one wall of my room -and try again. Reaching with my arms, bending my legs. Hair falls in my face, I ignore it. Working blind, grunting some more, my body bucking and wriggling as I attempt what seems impossible.
It is. Impossible.
"Fucks sake." Huffing, rolling onto my belly. "How much time left Chelle?"
"Until the meteor?"
"Asteroid." I frown. "Wasn't it?"
"Maybe." A shrug. Chelle smiles. "You know you make a cute hostage."
"Shut up." Tutting, but smiling too. It is, this whole thing, still quite funny. Not to mention being bound is still making my belly tingle. "How long?"
"Eighteen minutes till impact."
"Right." Nodding. "Fuck. Okay."
New plan.
If I wriggle enough, I can work my wrists loose.
Maybe?
So. Ignoring my ankles, though I wriggle my legs too, because you never know, I proceed to roll around on my bed, pulling and yanking at my wrists as I do.
Rolling over, onto my back, breasts and belly- exposed, my belly, seems at some point I've worked my shirt loose of my skirt -pointed at the ceiling. I struggle some more. Squirming. Rubbing my wrists against the sheet covered mattress. I bounce my body up and down, ignoring what that does to my D cups, which start to act as though in an earthquake, constantly in motion.
But. For all my exertions. Nothing happens. My wrist and ankle ropes remain as tight as when Chelle applied them.
I am. Still. Stuck. Helpless.
"And." Stood up, hand held high in a balled fist, looking at her phone. "5. 4." Fist falling slowly, towards the bed. "3." I shake my head, seeing that it's on course to land beside me. "2. 1. And." Fist hits the mattress, next to my head, where Chelle bounces it back up again, Fist opening out. "Boom." Like an explosion. She grins, I can't help but smile back. "Impact. Game over."
"So." Wriggling myself around, Chelle watches, clearly amused, as I bring my body side on to where she's now sat, on my bed. "What happens now?" I wave my wrists at her. "You free me, yes?"
"Well...."
"Chelle!" Half shouted. Shock, and nerves, mixed in at her reluctant tone. "Get these ropes off." I smile. "Please."
"Oh alright then." Turning to face me. "If I must."
"Should've gagged you." Muttered, but loudly enough for me to hear, as she works the knots on my wrists loose. "Then you'd have to stay tied up."
"You wouldn't?" Turning, looking. Chelle shrugs. Grins.
"I would've thought." Wrists free, tossing the rope off my bed, Chelle moves onto my ankles. "That if you can't get free, then I get to do what I want." Giving my ankle ropes a tug. "With you."
"But...?"
"But...?" Giving me a smile. "But. What, Luce?"
I offer to cook, that she could stay for dinner. But. "I've got to get home." Stood in my front door, coat on, bag slung over one shoulder. "Another time though."
"Another time." I nod, wave her off.
Cook a dinner I barely taste, sat in front of a flatscreen playing a movie I'm not watching.
My mind is elsewhere. I am, now that Chelle's gone, now that it's all over, thinking.
I am loving this story. Can't wait for the next chapter.
-
TightsBound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 589
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: CT, USA
Outstanding! Fun banter between them, and I love the way you wrote about coming to terms with it, very realistic feeling. It’s something entirely new, but not entirely hated. As opposed to just suddenly being in love with ropes, she’s showing signs of possibly enjoying it, but isn’t sure yet. How many of us felt like that at one point in our lives? Thanks for great work as usual!
I have fallen foul of writing this far too often, an easy trap.TightsBound wrote: ↑2 years ago I love the way you wrote about coming to terms with it, very realistic feeling. It’s something entirely new, but not entirely hated. As opposed to just suddenly being in love with ropes, she’s showing signs of possibly enjoying it, but isn’t sure yet. How many of us felt like that at one point in our lives?
Girl character, tied up for the very first time: "OMG I love this."
-
slackywacky
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 2624
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: Canada
That was...
...fun to read
...written well
...enjoyable
...excellent
...pretty realistic
So, like so often, I will patiently wait for an update...
...fun to read
...written well
...enjoyable
...excellent
...pretty realistic
So, like so often, I will patiently wait for an update...
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt
My active stories:
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt
My active stories:
- All in the family - Updated 24/04
- Bondage model by choice - Updated 10/04
- Hitchhiker - Updated 29/03
This was fun to read Ropebunny! You gave us a nice taste was what's to come
And I promise not to keep you waiting too long.
Excellent stuff! You've a unique style, very vivid. Very, very good.
003.
Of course, I have to go to Chelle. Whatever game she's playing, and I'm damn sure it's all a game: the ropes, her deliberately not talking about it to me in the days following my being bound. Whatever the rules are, whatever the objective, I'm clearly losing.
Fuck it.
"Hey." Lunch, on a sunny Thursday, I find Chelle sat out on the tiered benches overlooking the school sports field. "There you are."
"Here I am." Nodding, offering me a smile as I climb the steps, sit down close by. "You eating?"
"Yeah." Patting my bag. "Just a sandwich and fruit today."
"I. Um." Despite wanting to, despite coming here, seeking Chelle out purely to ask. I'm nervous. "I was wondering."
"Yes?" Half smile. She knows, damn it. The little problem knows she's won this that game I don't understand. And, still, I have to ask.
"Well." Deep breath. And, just, plunge in. "I wanted you to come over again. To." No. Don't pause. Go go go. I huff. "I wanted you to tie me up again."
"Is that right?"
I nod. Chelle grins.
"Sure. Matter of fact, Luce, I was going to ask you the same thing after class today."
"You were?" Lying bitch, I see that cheeky victory smile. "Well. Great." Packing my stuff away, since it's almost time to get back. "Later then?"
"Later." Nodding.
"But. Luce."
"Chelle?" Halfway down the steps, I stop, turn. "What?"
"My rules this time." Not smiling, fixing me with an actual serious look. "Okay?"
The bell chooses that moment to ring, signifying five minutes before class.
"Right." Waving it off. Whatever. Just, tie me up, I don't care. "Yes." I nod. "Fine. Sure. Your rules Chelle."
"Good." Now she smiles again. Nods back. "See you in Math Luce."
"Math." Over my shoulder, already fast walking away, one hand raised to wave a goodbye.
All I've done- eating and sleeping, going through the motions at school aside -since Chelle left my house, is think about what happened.
I have become somewhat obsessed by it all. Not in the least scared off by the deep marks I discovered on wrists and ankles, clear imprints on my skin left by the coarse rope Chelle tightly bound me with. I have, over the past few days, spent a fair portion of time simply staring into the middle distance, replaying how it felt.
The tingles in my belly.
The hardness of my nipples.
The strangeness, the newness, of how it felt to be tied up. To be helpless, unable to free myself. Reliant instead on Chelle who, just for a moment, had seemed unwilling to free me.
What would of happened, had she said no?
Predictably, my afternoon classes drag. Math, with Chelle actually sat next to me. Right there, but still in school, so we can't play. I'd swear at one point the clock above Mr Sparks desk actually stopped moving.
We walk home, to my home, in relative silence. Which is to say we talk, but not about ropes.
"Wow." Half a street away, and my Dad's truck, his cab, parked on the wide tarmac out front of our house, has just come into view. "What is that?"
"Dad's truck."
"It's beautiful."
To be fair. Yes, it's a truck cab, but it is beautiful. The reason Dad manages to get contracts all over Europe, out to Asia, is that he owns his own cab, which means he can drive it anywhere, hooking up any trailer to the back as required. His trucker name- on those old school in cab radio's truckers use -is Kraken. A name reflected in the black painted truck, which has a dark green octopus climbing up the passenger side.
Having just returned from the Czech Republic, via Germany and Finland, which is a very roundabout route, he's home for the next three days before it's back on the road. Several return shuttle trips to France if I remember our chat over breakfast?
"Dad?" Called out, hanging my puffer jacket on a peg just inside the front door, shoes on the floor beneath it. Chelle follows suit. We pick up our bags, moving through the lounge towards the kitchen.
"Dad?"
"Upstairs?"
"Um." He should've heard me. But. "Oh." Silly. Shaking my head. Too distracted by his truck I hadn't, until just now, registered the empty driveway. "He's out." Opening the fridge. "Buying more milk." A shrug. "Food and stuff."
"An empty house then." Smiling at me, a knowing look that gives me butterflies.
"Well." Heart beating fast. "He'll be coming back."
"And." A shrug, not caring. "Is that a problem?"
"Um." Do I want to be caught, by Dad, tied up? More to the point, is the risk of being caught enough to stop me from playing?
No.
"He." Thinking. "Doesn't come in my room. Not." A brief laugh, memory of Dad, about a week after Mum left, walking into my bedroom without knocking, without thinking. His face, the embarrassment plain to see, as he looked up mid sentence- something about dinner -to discover me in just a bra and pants, halfway between shedding my school clothes and putting on shorts and casual baggy tee.
Lucky I hadn't yet removed my bra, which I was just reaching up to do when the sound of my door opening stopped me.
Another half minute, and. Oops.
"He won't disturb us." Shaking my head, smiling. Because it is, was, funny.
"Good." Nodding. Chelle gestures. After you. "Shall we go upstairs and play then?"
"Yes." Thump thump goes my heart. "Please."
We're both still dressed for school: pale blue short sleeved shirts, black skirts, nasty looking yellow and green ties. Chelle's hair, brown and tumbling over her shoulders like mine, prehaps more curly. We both wear it loose.
In my room Chelle closes the door behind us, I hear the click as, crouching, I pull the box out from the bottom of my wardrobe, where I keep it concealed underneath a pile of blankets. Picking it up- rope, even a wooden box full, isn't heavy -I turn to face Chelle.
"Where do you want it?"
"Um." Looking around, finger tapping lips. She nods. Points. "Just there is fine."
"Okay." Putting the box down beside my bookcase, an out of the way spot, I stand back up, turn to face Chelle again. Full of nerves.
"So. Um?"
"Sure you want to play?" That serious look again. "It's my rules now remember."
"Yes." I remember. I don't know what that means. Should I ask?
I don't want to ask. I want to get tied up.
Chelle walks passed me, to the box, bending down to flip the lid open. "Right then." Pulling out a coil of rope. "Wrists behind you."
Bound side by side. I place them crossed, like before, but with a quiet snort of amusement Chelle moves them, then binds them. I can't see of course, but can easily feel the rough rope as she wraps loops around my wrists, fabric digging into bare skin when Chelle pulls tight, making my breath catch, my body do a small jump at the suddenness.
Having wrapped around my wrists, horizontal, feels like she wraps a couple of vertical loops between my arms next. I'm about to ask why, when Chelle tugs the rope, answering my question as the closing of those loops pinches that wrapping my wrists, tightening everything up. Prehaps, if it's possible, it feels more secure then last time?
And last time I couldn't get free.
My ankles are next. Chelle sat with legs spread in front of me, like last time, doing the same tight ropework as last time too. I expect her to stand up, but instead find my knees receiving her attentions once my ankles are wrapped and tied off.
Two ropes, I can feel the separate pinching both above and below the knee, which means my legs are now bound in three places.
I'm screwed. What did we say would happen once I was tied up?
Oh. Right. We. She. Didn't. Just that, rather ominous yet exciting, the combined fear yet thrill of an unknown I appear to be willingly wandering into. All I know is: we're playing according to Chelle's rules.
Whatever they are?
"Does the computer have a code?" Stood behind me, wrapping rope around my wrists and waist. "Luce?"
"Just on start up. Why?"
"Something to do."
"Right." I nod. "Course. It's." Chelle pulling the rope tight around my waist, squeezing my belly, makes me pause, my body jolting. "Um. Four. Four. Seven. One."
"Got it. Thanks."
"Just," wriggling my body, my arms, which are indeed pinned tight against my back, as Chelle steps out from behind me, "don't delete my saves. Kay?"
"Course not." Not smiling, showing me, I think, that she understands, and will respect my stuff.
Stepping closer Chelle reaches for my school tie, pulling the knot loose, tugging at one end so my tie slips through my collar, into her hands.
I watch, semi Mesmerised, not asking what, or why, as Chelle folds my tie into a thick wadded cube. I think on some deep level I realise what's coming, am already, without conscious thought, opening my mouth to receive the tie.
Which, with a smile, Chelle stuffs into my mouth. Pushing. Pressing. Firming. Forcing the whole thing inside.
She uses her own school tie to hold the stuffing in place. Stepping close, wrapping from the back of my head, crisscrossing over my mouth, then back around to knot the gag behind. She yanks tight, pushing her tie into my mouth between my spread lips, forcing my tie deeper.
"One hour." Tapping and flicking at her phone, like before. "Okay?"
"Mmfffppp mmmmmm." My voice, the gagged muffled moans all I can produce, surprises me. I'd been trying for actual words, hadn't thought a gag would prove quite so effective at shutting someone up?
"Yes." Nodding, like I made sense after all. Chelle smiles. "You look very cute Luce."
"Ffmmm pppfffpmmmm mmmm." I look. Cute? Really? I mean. I feel good, quite happy tied up, despite the pain and discomfort of the ropes, digging into my skin, restricting my movement.
Wait. Hold on. Did I really just admit, to myself, that I. Like. Being bound?
Oh.
And. Chelle thinks I look. Cute. Like this?
Oh.
Shaking off the inner monologue I discover Chelle has sat down at my desk, is booting up my computer. Her phone, leaning against my left speaker, I can just about see the white digits ghosting, counting down, on the black screen.
Without any better choices to hand, I decide to head for my bed, where at least I can lay down, bound or otherwise.
Of course this, the journey across my room, requires plenty of hopping. Like last time I must first turn to face my bed, then hop- bounce, because that's all my D cups want to do -towards it, then turn my body on the spot so I can fall backwards onto the mattress.
I thought Chelle would watch, but, though I have my back to her whilst hopping to the bed, each time I stop, look over my shoulder, her attention is on the screen in front of her.
It looks as though she's just begun a new Minecraft world.
I try to escape. I don't expect to succeed, but: Chelle ties me up, then I try to escape. That's the only part of the game I know.
Besides which, struggling, wriggling around in tight ropes, it's quite fun.
I don't have the energy for a constant non stop fight. I can go for, maybe, five minutes. Straining, tugging, rolling left and right, kicking with my legs. Five minutes of searching for that elusive never going to be discovered slack rope or loose knot. Time spent moaning, grunting, getting my clothes in disarray: skirt hitching up, up, until you can almost see my white cotton pants. Shirt coming untucked.
Five minutes and then I have to stop, rolling onto either belly or back. Breathing, calming my racing- and not just because of all the effort, it's racing in part due to the thrill of my continued state -heart.
And then. Footsteps, approaching my room. A knock at my bedroom door.
"Luce?" Shit. I grunt. Sitting, trying to sit, up. Across the room Chelle turns from the screen, looking at the closed door, then at me.
She smiles. But, doesn't get up, doesn't come to remove my gag, so I can answer.
"Luce." A second knock. "Are you home? I saw the coats. Do you have a friend over?" Not angry, Dad- ha -trusts me. He has to, given how much time he's always leaving for.
I stare at Chelle. "Mmmffpp mmmmmm." Softly. Bouncing my still tightly rope bound body up and down on the bed, emphasising my point. D cups, hating to be left out, bounce too.
"Okay." Whispered back. Grinning, Chelle stands, crosses the room, removes the school ties gagging me.
"Dad?" Called out. I am, very, aware that I'm still tied up, that Chelle is sat right next to my laid on the bed helpless body, school tie still in her hand, grinning as she occasionally flicks my belly or upper legs with it. "You still there?"
"I'm still here Luce. Do you have a friend over?"
"Yeah. Um. Chelle, from school."
"Okay." A brief pause. Chelle gets up, crosses back to the computer and her paused- not that Minecraft can be paused, but you can hide -game. "Listen." I can hear the apology before he says it. "They've moved my work forwards. I have to leave tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh." I'd been looking forwards to a couple of days with him, but, work is work.
"Will I see you after school?"
"Yes. I'll be here until around five."
"Good."
"I thought. How about a pizza. Domino's. And a movie off the Sky box?"
"Really." Smiling. "Sounds great Dad."
"Your friend can join us too, if you want?"
"Well...." Looking across at Chelle. She nods, smiles. "Thanks Dad. She will."
"Okay. I'm ordering now, so, come on downstairs soon girls."
"We will."
Chelle unties me without comment. We're halfway down the stairs before, glancing at my hand on the bannister, I notice the deep rope marks, which will be repeated on my legs too. "Hold on." Dashing back to my room, shrugging shirt and skirt off quickly, leaving both in a heap on the floor. I grab a dark red pull on hoodie and grey drawstring joggers, head back to Chelle, who just nods. Understands.
Dad gets two pizza's, plus sides and Coke to share around. We rent a horror, one without too much blood, making small talk whilst we eat and watch.
"Is Chelle staying late?"
"Um." Caught off guard, I hadn't thought about it. I look over at Chelle, who gives me a questioning look. I frown, she smiles. And I.
Think I get it.
Her rules, she'd said. Which I very much doubt involved letting me go unless either I escaped- fat fucking chance -or she decided. But she'd been forced to free me. So. I could end it here. No more game, no more ropes. Chelle goes home. Or. Thinking which makes my belly flip flop. I could let her back upstairs, and see where this rabbit hole leads.
"Can we give her a lift home, later?"
"I." Smiling, Dad humour. "Can, yes."
"Dad." Tutting, Chelle smiles. "You know what I meant."
"I do." Dad nods, on the flatscreen the credits are rolling. "Yes, Luce, we can drive Chelle home." Looking at Chelle. "Ten?"
"Half nine. Please. I'll text my parents, but they prefer me in bed, or," a shrug, "in my room anyway. By ten."
"Right." Dad nods. Stands. "Half nine it is. Are you going back upstairs to play girls?"
It's all I can do not to blush, whilst Chelle, I can see, barely manages to contain the laugh I see bubbling up her throat.
Of course, I have to go to Chelle. Whatever game she's playing, and I'm damn sure it's all a game: the ropes, her deliberately not talking about it to me in the days following my being bound. Whatever the rules are, whatever the objective, I'm clearly losing.
Fuck it.
"Hey." Lunch, on a sunny Thursday, I find Chelle sat out on the tiered benches overlooking the school sports field. "There you are."
"Here I am." Nodding, offering me a smile as I climb the steps, sit down close by. "You eating?"
"Yeah." Patting my bag. "Just a sandwich and fruit today."
"I. Um." Despite wanting to, despite coming here, seeking Chelle out purely to ask. I'm nervous. "I was wondering."
"Yes?" Half smile. She knows, damn it. The little problem knows she's won this that game I don't understand. And, still, I have to ask.
"Well." Deep breath. And, just, plunge in. "I wanted you to come over again. To." No. Don't pause. Go go go. I huff. "I wanted you to tie me up again."
"Is that right?"
I nod. Chelle grins.
"Sure. Matter of fact, Luce, I was going to ask you the same thing after class today."
"You were?" Lying bitch, I see that cheeky victory smile. "Well. Great." Packing my stuff away, since it's almost time to get back. "Later then?"
"Later." Nodding.
"But. Luce."
"Chelle?" Halfway down the steps, I stop, turn. "What?"
"My rules this time." Not smiling, fixing me with an actual serious look. "Okay?"
The bell chooses that moment to ring, signifying five minutes before class.
"Right." Waving it off. Whatever. Just, tie me up, I don't care. "Yes." I nod. "Fine. Sure. Your rules Chelle."
"Good." Now she smiles again. Nods back. "See you in Math Luce."
"Math." Over my shoulder, already fast walking away, one hand raised to wave a goodbye.
All I've done- eating and sleeping, going through the motions at school aside -since Chelle left my house, is think about what happened.
I have become somewhat obsessed by it all. Not in the least scared off by the deep marks I discovered on wrists and ankles, clear imprints on my skin left by the coarse rope Chelle tightly bound me with. I have, over the past few days, spent a fair portion of time simply staring into the middle distance, replaying how it felt.
The tingles in my belly.
The hardness of my nipples.
The strangeness, the newness, of how it felt to be tied up. To be helpless, unable to free myself. Reliant instead on Chelle who, just for a moment, had seemed unwilling to free me.
What would of happened, had she said no?
Predictably, my afternoon classes drag. Math, with Chelle actually sat next to me. Right there, but still in school, so we can't play. I'd swear at one point the clock above Mr Sparks desk actually stopped moving.
We walk home, to my home, in relative silence. Which is to say we talk, but not about ropes.
"Wow." Half a street away, and my Dad's truck, his cab, parked on the wide tarmac out front of our house, has just come into view. "What is that?"
"Dad's truck."
"It's beautiful."
To be fair. Yes, it's a truck cab, but it is beautiful. The reason Dad manages to get contracts all over Europe, out to Asia, is that he owns his own cab, which means he can drive it anywhere, hooking up any trailer to the back as required. His trucker name- on those old school in cab radio's truckers use -is Kraken. A name reflected in the black painted truck, which has a dark green octopus climbing up the passenger side.
Having just returned from the Czech Republic, via Germany and Finland, which is a very roundabout route, he's home for the next three days before it's back on the road. Several return shuttle trips to France if I remember our chat over breakfast?
"Dad?" Called out, hanging my puffer jacket on a peg just inside the front door, shoes on the floor beneath it. Chelle follows suit. We pick up our bags, moving through the lounge towards the kitchen.
"Dad?"
"Upstairs?"
"Um." He should've heard me. But. "Oh." Silly. Shaking my head. Too distracted by his truck I hadn't, until just now, registered the empty driveway. "He's out." Opening the fridge. "Buying more milk." A shrug. "Food and stuff."
"An empty house then." Smiling at me, a knowing look that gives me butterflies.
"Well." Heart beating fast. "He'll be coming back."
"And." A shrug, not caring. "Is that a problem?"
"Um." Do I want to be caught, by Dad, tied up? More to the point, is the risk of being caught enough to stop me from playing?
No.
"He." Thinking. "Doesn't come in my room. Not." A brief laugh, memory of Dad, about a week after Mum left, walking into my bedroom without knocking, without thinking. His face, the embarrassment plain to see, as he looked up mid sentence- something about dinner -to discover me in just a bra and pants, halfway between shedding my school clothes and putting on shorts and casual baggy tee.
Lucky I hadn't yet removed my bra, which I was just reaching up to do when the sound of my door opening stopped me.
Another half minute, and. Oops.
"He won't disturb us." Shaking my head, smiling. Because it is, was, funny.
"Good." Nodding. Chelle gestures. After you. "Shall we go upstairs and play then?"
"Yes." Thump thump goes my heart. "Please."
We're both still dressed for school: pale blue short sleeved shirts, black skirts, nasty looking yellow and green ties. Chelle's hair, brown and tumbling over her shoulders like mine, prehaps more curly. We both wear it loose.
In my room Chelle closes the door behind us, I hear the click as, crouching, I pull the box out from the bottom of my wardrobe, where I keep it concealed underneath a pile of blankets. Picking it up- rope, even a wooden box full, isn't heavy -I turn to face Chelle.
"Where do you want it?"
"Um." Looking around, finger tapping lips. She nods. Points. "Just there is fine."
"Okay." Putting the box down beside my bookcase, an out of the way spot, I stand back up, turn to face Chelle again. Full of nerves.
"So. Um?"
"Sure you want to play?" That serious look again. "It's my rules now remember."
"Yes." I remember. I don't know what that means. Should I ask?
I don't want to ask. I want to get tied up.
Chelle walks passed me, to the box, bending down to flip the lid open. "Right then." Pulling out a coil of rope. "Wrists behind you."
Bound side by side. I place them crossed, like before, but with a quiet snort of amusement Chelle moves them, then binds them. I can't see of course, but can easily feel the rough rope as she wraps loops around my wrists, fabric digging into bare skin when Chelle pulls tight, making my breath catch, my body do a small jump at the suddenness.
Having wrapped around my wrists, horizontal, feels like she wraps a couple of vertical loops between my arms next. I'm about to ask why, when Chelle tugs the rope, answering my question as the closing of those loops pinches that wrapping my wrists, tightening everything up. Prehaps, if it's possible, it feels more secure then last time?
And last time I couldn't get free.
My ankles are next. Chelle sat with legs spread in front of me, like last time, doing the same tight ropework as last time too. I expect her to stand up, but instead find my knees receiving her attentions once my ankles are wrapped and tied off.
Two ropes, I can feel the separate pinching both above and below the knee, which means my legs are now bound in three places.
I'm screwed. What did we say would happen once I was tied up?
Oh. Right. We. She. Didn't. Just that, rather ominous yet exciting, the combined fear yet thrill of an unknown I appear to be willingly wandering into. All I know is: we're playing according to Chelle's rules.
Whatever they are?
"Does the computer have a code?" Stood behind me, wrapping rope around my wrists and waist. "Luce?"
"Just on start up. Why?"
"Something to do."
"Right." I nod. "Course. It's." Chelle pulling the rope tight around my waist, squeezing my belly, makes me pause, my body jolting. "Um. Four. Four. Seven. One."
"Got it. Thanks."
"Just," wriggling my body, my arms, which are indeed pinned tight against my back, as Chelle steps out from behind me, "don't delete my saves. Kay?"
"Course not." Not smiling, showing me, I think, that she understands, and will respect my stuff.
Stepping closer Chelle reaches for my school tie, pulling the knot loose, tugging at one end so my tie slips through my collar, into her hands.
I watch, semi Mesmerised, not asking what, or why, as Chelle folds my tie into a thick wadded cube. I think on some deep level I realise what's coming, am already, without conscious thought, opening my mouth to receive the tie.
Which, with a smile, Chelle stuffs into my mouth. Pushing. Pressing. Firming. Forcing the whole thing inside.
She uses her own school tie to hold the stuffing in place. Stepping close, wrapping from the back of my head, crisscrossing over my mouth, then back around to knot the gag behind. She yanks tight, pushing her tie into my mouth between my spread lips, forcing my tie deeper.
"One hour." Tapping and flicking at her phone, like before. "Okay?"
"Mmfffppp mmmmmm." My voice, the gagged muffled moans all I can produce, surprises me. I'd been trying for actual words, hadn't thought a gag would prove quite so effective at shutting someone up?
"Yes." Nodding, like I made sense after all. Chelle smiles. "You look very cute Luce."
"Ffmmm pppfffpmmmm mmmm." I look. Cute? Really? I mean. I feel good, quite happy tied up, despite the pain and discomfort of the ropes, digging into my skin, restricting my movement.
Wait. Hold on. Did I really just admit, to myself, that I. Like. Being bound?
Oh.
And. Chelle thinks I look. Cute. Like this?
Oh.
Shaking off the inner monologue I discover Chelle has sat down at my desk, is booting up my computer. Her phone, leaning against my left speaker, I can just about see the white digits ghosting, counting down, on the black screen.
Without any better choices to hand, I decide to head for my bed, where at least I can lay down, bound or otherwise.
Of course this, the journey across my room, requires plenty of hopping. Like last time I must first turn to face my bed, then hop- bounce, because that's all my D cups want to do -towards it, then turn my body on the spot so I can fall backwards onto the mattress.
I thought Chelle would watch, but, though I have my back to her whilst hopping to the bed, each time I stop, look over my shoulder, her attention is on the screen in front of her.
It looks as though she's just begun a new Minecraft world.
I try to escape. I don't expect to succeed, but: Chelle ties me up, then I try to escape. That's the only part of the game I know.
Besides which, struggling, wriggling around in tight ropes, it's quite fun.
I don't have the energy for a constant non stop fight. I can go for, maybe, five minutes. Straining, tugging, rolling left and right, kicking with my legs. Five minutes of searching for that elusive never going to be discovered slack rope or loose knot. Time spent moaning, grunting, getting my clothes in disarray: skirt hitching up, up, until you can almost see my white cotton pants. Shirt coming untucked.
Five minutes and then I have to stop, rolling onto either belly or back. Breathing, calming my racing- and not just because of all the effort, it's racing in part due to the thrill of my continued state -heart.
And then. Footsteps, approaching my room. A knock at my bedroom door.
"Luce?" Shit. I grunt. Sitting, trying to sit, up. Across the room Chelle turns from the screen, looking at the closed door, then at me.
She smiles. But, doesn't get up, doesn't come to remove my gag, so I can answer.
"Luce." A second knock. "Are you home? I saw the coats. Do you have a friend over?" Not angry, Dad- ha -trusts me. He has to, given how much time he's always leaving for.
I stare at Chelle. "Mmmffpp mmmmmm." Softly. Bouncing my still tightly rope bound body up and down on the bed, emphasising my point. D cups, hating to be left out, bounce too.
"Okay." Whispered back. Grinning, Chelle stands, crosses the room, removes the school ties gagging me.
"Dad?" Called out. I am, very, aware that I'm still tied up, that Chelle is sat right next to my laid on the bed helpless body, school tie still in her hand, grinning as she occasionally flicks my belly or upper legs with it. "You still there?"
"I'm still here Luce. Do you have a friend over?"
"Yeah. Um. Chelle, from school."
"Okay." A brief pause. Chelle gets up, crosses back to the computer and her paused- not that Minecraft can be paused, but you can hide -game. "Listen." I can hear the apology before he says it. "They've moved my work forwards. I have to leave tomorrow afternoon."
"Oh." I'd been looking forwards to a couple of days with him, but, work is work.
"Will I see you after school?"
"Yes. I'll be here until around five."
"Good."
"I thought. How about a pizza. Domino's. And a movie off the Sky box?"
"Really." Smiling. "Sounds great Dad."
"Your friend can join us too, if you want?"
"Well...." Looking across at Chelle. She nods, smiles. "Thanks Dad. She will."
"Okay. I'm ordering now, so, come on downstairs soon girls."
"We will."
Chelle unties me without comment. We're halfway down the stairs before, glancing at my hand on the bannister, I notice the deep rope marks, which will be repeated on my legs too. "Hold on." Dashing back to my room, shrugging shirt and skirt off quickly, leaving both in a heap on the floor. I grab a dark red pull on hoodie and grey drawstring joggers, head back to Chelle, who just nods. Understands.
Dad gets two pizza's, plus sides and Coke to share around. We rent a horror, one without too much blood, making small talk whilst we eat and watch.
"Is Chelle staying late?"
"Um." Caught off guard, I hadn't thought about it. I look over at Chelle, who gives me a questioning look. I frown, she smiles. And I.
Think I get it.
Her rules, she'd said. Which I very much doubt involved letting me go unless either I escaped- fat fucking chance -or she decided. But she'd been forced to free me. So. I could end it here. No more game, no more ropes. Chelle goes home. Or. Thinking which makes my belly flip flop. I could let her back upstairs, and see where this rabbit hole leads.
"Can we give her a lift home, later?"
"I." Smiling, Dad humour. "Can, yes."
"Dad." Tutting, Chelle smiles. "You know what I meant."
"I do." Dad nods, on the flatscreen the credits are rolling. "Yes, Luce, we can drive Chelle home." Looking at Chelle. "Ten?"
"Half nine. Please. I'll text my parents, but they prefer me in bed, or," a shrug, "in my room anyway. By ten."
"Right." Dad nods. Stands. "Half nine it is. Are you going back upstairs to play girls?"
It's all I can do not to blush, whilst Chelle, I can see, barely manages to contain the laugh I see bubbling up her throat.
caught. And nearly caught. Good one.
-
TightsBound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 589
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: CT, USA
You’ve somehow managed to outdo yourself with this chapter. Between her nervousness with approaching Chelle, to the excellent description of the rope work, I’m truly captivated by this story! It’s like a coming of age story, but for bondage!
-
slackywacky
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 2624
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: Canada
It is funny to see that English way of telling time. I bet half the readers have no clue what time it is
Great chapter!
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt
My active stories:
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt
My active stories:
- All in the family - Updated 24/04
- Bondage model by choice - Updated 10/04
- Hitchhiker - Updated 29/03
So how would you say it?slackywacky wrote: ↑2 years agoIt is funny to see that English way of telling time. I bet half the readers have no clue what time it is
-
slackywacky
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 2624
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: Canada
The standard way to tell the time when it’s X:30 is “half past X”. For example, 5:30 is “half past five”, 7:30 is “half past seven”, and so on (or, if precision is required, there’s nothing wrong with saying “five thirty”, “seven thirty”, etc.).
Brits, however, sometimes use expressions like “half five” or “half seven”. These can be quite confusing for speakers of Slavic and Germanic languages, who would expect the expression “half X” to mean “half before X”. For instance, halb sieben (literally “half seven”) means “half past six” (6:30) in German (and also Dutch).
The expression is thought of in a different way in British English. “Half five” is just a colloquial way of saying “half past five”, with the word “past” being implied, i.e. an hour more than speakers of other languages would assume.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt
My active stories:
Slackywacky, also @DeviantArt
My active stories:
- All in the family - Updated 24/04
- Bondage model by choice - Updated 10/04
- Hitchhiker - Updated 29/03