-girl. Who the fuck is the girl? All my friends know the back gate is never locked, but I don't know her.
From a distance, walking alone I look up as home comes into view and see her. And stop. Watching this stranger open and pass through my gate as though she belongs.
I move closer but don't follow her in, unwilling but I can't say why. Instead, as the drizzle finally ceases having drenched everything and everyone I wait, leaning back against the vertical slat wooden fence, arms crossed beneath a reasonable and still with luck growing chest, messenger bag hanging from one shoulder.
Wanting, aiming for a casual, cool look. Nonchalant, I should probably be smoking or flipping a coin? And I can't say why it- looking cool -matters, but it seems important for some reason the way these random and mostly unimportant things sometimes do.
Who is she?
"Hi."
How did? Leaning against the fence on the far side of my, now closed gate. Slim, all legs her pose mirroring mine, crossed arms showing off a modest chest, pale blue waterproof jacket hood up. Black school skirt and flash of white not blue like mine shirt collar. Dark green tie?
Pale skin and a pretty face framed by blonde hair. Smiling, amused.
I don't know her.
"Who?"
"What." Pushing herself off the fence. "Where and why." Walking away, talking to me but you wouldn't know it. "And probably how."
"Huh?"
She laughs, amused. Stops and turns. Points a 'you've got this' cocked finger at me.
Leaving, and I'm too confused, unsure, to stop her.
Nothing else to do, and I need to change so.
Open the gate and.
Stop.
Frown.
Why is there a girl tied to my parents washing line pole?
She's got her back to me, as I- quietly, lest I spook her or some rubbish -close the gate, step closer at an angle allowing me a partial side view whilst not being visible myself.
Skinny, blonde, chest for days even under a blue shirt and metallic puffer jacket, and the resemblance is there despite I've only ever seen the younger: Sammy, this is Rebekah's sister.
And someone, surely mystery girl although why?
Ha. Those questions she was sprouting.
Sammy's been trussed to the pole pretty damn well, even to my un-tutored eye I can see the tightness, the ropes digging into clothing and skin. The general all round immobility she's been placed into.
Wrists behind her on the far side of the pole, basically that alone trapping her in place. Body like the poles mirror twin, stood tall and straight with about a mile of rope winding up and down: ankles and knees, waist. That killer chest. Every part of her is tethered.
There's a school bag on the grass behind her, logically Sammy's the front slightly unzipped flash of something peeking out and catching the freshly emerging from behind clouds sun.
Slipping my own bag, bending to investigate I discover a paperclip holding two sheets of paper together: the back one blank, and on the front.
'Consider this payment. Bex x'
Scribbled in hurried but legible script. The words bringing a small smile, because there's humour and craziness. Daring prehaps, in using your own older sister as currency.
And I've got to wonder, does Sammy know she's been traded?
And for that matter if Rebekah, Bex did this then why didn't I see her?
Guess I'll ask.
"Ddddfffggg mmmnnsss rrrdddpppfff." Eyes focusing as I step into view, talking nonsense through the thick wool scarf pressed tightly into her mouth. A gag which only adds to things, making the effect of Sammy being bound that much more so. The gag frames her face and there's something nice, cute. I'm discovering I quite like the effect of someone tied up.
She's quite wet, blonde hair plastered to her face skin speckled with a fine mist. Jacket teasingly half unzipped blue shirt semi transparent, shape of her bra and breasts quite plain to see.
Mystery girl? Or was Bex trying to sweeten the pot?
Blinking, but no obvious protest as I take a handful of photos with my phone. Because I can't keep her like this, for awhile yes, maybe, but not indefinitely.
My parents would. Would?
I doubt it would end well, for me.
Photos as payment, and I'll message Bex later let her know she's off the hook for a lost bet.
Now to questions, I lean in and remove the gag.
"Don't you care?"
"About?" Half smile growing and a small wriggle it isn't like she can move properly. Sammy must be wet, uncomfortable from her clothes alone if not the rope too.
It looks uncomfortable, but the smile hints at no, she's fine actually.
And it- don't you hate being tied up -wasn't what I wanted to ask so.
Breathe, smile back because she looks cute, and it's all quite fun really.
Try again.
"Who was she?"
"Bex?" Confused and. Ha. I'm still using mystery girls question cues.
None of this makes sense.
"Bex, your sister did this?"
"Yeah." Grinning now. "Though I kinda let her."
"Oh." Caught out, why would you let someone do this? I'd pictured four. Six? Girls all gang style and Sammy struggling.
Not willingly standing still and allowing it.
Except maybe there were two of them?
"What about the other girl?"
"What other girl?"
Figures.
"There was another girl." I gesture, and Sammy looks, actually, not really interested.
That chest really is quite something. Quite amazing how the rope squeezes and. Well. Kind of offers it forwards.
"So what happens now?" A silly question really, because now, of course I let her go, and we probably never mention or repeat this act again.
"Well...." Thoughtful, so I wait, enjoying the view some more and fuck it I take some non gagged photos.
Sammy even grins, for- the camera -me.
"Now you could write about it?"
With that blank sheet? Wait, was that what mystery girl-
I have a feeling I should know who the stranger is - especially since I could have sworn what she said was a repeat, mentioned at some point prior.
But cannot seem to find it now...
A half-remembered waking dream leaking into reality? Or less exciting, but far more likely, probably just me being silly. Or perhaps my mistake is looking for too much sense in such a tale
For some reason, all this makes me think what would happen if I could read while dreaming. Would the external influence guide the dream, or would my mind take it and create something grand out of that small seed?
A ridiculous thought (for many obvious and non-obvious reasons), but I suppose such things are fitting for the overall theme here
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 months ago
I have a feeling I should know who the stranger is - especially since I could have sworn what she said was a repeat, mentioned at some point prior.
But cannot seem to find it now...
You can't find what she said, or the earlier suspected repeat?
I'd love to know which part of dialogue you're referring too?
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 months ago
Or perhaps my mistake is looking for too much sense in such a tale
Quite, it isn't supposed to make sense, or at least that was my original concept.
"Well?" Harsh tone like I'm annoyed, but I'm not. It's to cover up the smile I'm not allowing through.
And if anyone else tried that tone out on Chloe they'd be so much roadkill. As it is I can see the anger flare up behind her eyes, wanting to call me out but I simply stare back.
And the bully lowers her gaze, backing down.
"Can I," pointing out the empty half of the bench and that she feels she has to ask, even with a hard around the edges tone it's still asking, speaks volumes, "sit?"
"People will talk." Allowing just a small smile to slip out.
"Like to see them fucking try." Turning to eyeball a pair of year seven boys as she speaks. They hurry away like scared rabbits.
I laugh.
Chloe sits.
"Come over mine." Aiming for bossy and I wonder idly, not for the first time, what would happen if I let her regain what I stole.
The crown. Chloe rules the school but I rule Chloe.
She tries, bossing or ordering but each time I rise up, pitching higher and she rolls over. Might've broken her a little too hard that first time.
But what if?
"Sure." Making the shrug easy like surrender. But is it? Small tingle and honestly I think I'm baiting her to stamp down once we arrive but.
I'm not sure.
"You...." Open mouthed, wrong footed for a moment but then she grins and I feel the tingle grow. Am I now the small fish staring at the shark?
Or am I still the bigger shark, true size hidden by shadow?
"Good." Turning to face me and scooting closer one leg out snaked behind and around to encircle me, making it so I'm basically in her lap. Not caring who sees leaning close arm resting on the wooden back stretched out, Chloe's large chest pressing into my arm chin on my shoulder her whisper in my ear.
Hand toying with my dangling tie. Being bold and she clearly thinks I've laid down. For her.
"Maybe I'll hogtie you."
The word strange coming from her. Bondage is my weapon, name calling and pushing, shoving, those tend to be hers.
Strange, but there's a power. And I see her smile having seen me shiver. Uncontrolled.
Another point to her.
"Do you even know how?" Nonchalance like I don't care, am not interested in whether she can or does and despite the shiver I nail the tone. Chloe pausing her own smile faltering, grip on my tie loosening.
"Maybe." Still casual and I'm only just above a whisper too like we're talking secrets. "You need another lesson."
Chloe's turn to shiver as our eyes meet and she sees me: the girl who won, that first time.
"Or." Likely confusing her, us both. Tongue flicked out across my top lip, laying down again. "If I am bound, will you simply keep me?"
Silence. Stretching and our eyes remain locked. I think somewhere a bell rings: class, time to leave yet neither of us moves. I can feel Chloe breathing, the up down rhythmic motion of her breasts pressing and receding against my arm.
Large breasts. A slim frame.
Lucky bitch.
"When you're bound." Pausing and a raised eyebrow. Asking, waiting am I going to step up all over again.
"When." Flick of my tongue again, dry lips and heart too fast. "I'm bound."
"I've studied." Smiling at my caught breath, the unexpected revelation. Chloe nods. "You won't be getting out."
Taking my tie again and wrapping it around her hand. Tight and a brief tug.
"You'll have to beg for freedom."
Letting go. Victory written all over her face whilst I fight and fail to pretend composure.
I'd made her beg. An ultimate victory.
"Or are you playing?" Sudden frown and now, bizarrely Chloe's changing tack. "Lulling me in only to pounce later?"
From somewhere, taking the cue I find a grin.
"Well." Not grasping her tie merely flicking the tip. Playful. Teasing. "I am known for winning. Against you."
"You...."
I plunge into the space offered by her indecision.
"I might leave you bound on your own bed. All helpless," prodding her breast and smiling as, of course the contact makes her gasp, "and half naked."
Another bell rings, and I catch sight of Mr Trantum, a science teacher emerging from a door. Spotting us.
Now we're in trouble.
Returning my attention to Chloe and finding, that seemingly eternal merry go round now she's grinning. Nodding.
"What a good idea." Prodding me back, direct hit on the nipple so of course I gasp too. "I'll be sure to strip you. After I tie you."
"Okay girls." Harried tone, late himself and we all know what kids can and do get up to in a teacher less classroom. "Break it up and let's go."
"Yes sir." From me whilst Chloe flicks her eyes lips compressed in disapproval, and Mr Trantum doesn't back off but nor does he reprimanded her.
Standing and bags collected our threats and promises come to an abrupt end Chloe and me share a look.
Defiance, each of us believing ourselves ruler of the other.
And then Chloe grins, which sets my mouth to curving. She nods, I tip a small salute.
I guess we'll see.
And it, walking away to class it takes me awhile to realise Chloe's walking beside me. Shadowing me when I'm fairly certain she's got maths and I've definitely got geography.
"Don't you have math?"
"Nope." Pointing with a nod at the stairwell, what we- pupils -all call the back stairs because for some reason they're half the width of the others, with a door leading outside at the bottom not just a route back into the school.
"Let's cut," stopping so I do too and she's smiling, "my parents are at work."
"Bind you now huh?"
"No." Pushing open the door, gesturing, "I'm binding you."
I'm finding my original challenge- the 1000 word limit per chapter -to be somewhat of a continuing hindrance. It's fun, and definitely challenging, but I'd like more room to explore all the craziness I'm unleashing.
Room to do the tale justice.
So onwards we'll go, to a hopeful conclusion, but from here on out no more word limits.
I assume you're all okay with that?
RB (as always, thanks for reading, and commenting when you do )
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 months ago
You can't find what she said, or the earlier suspected repeat?
I'd love to know which part of dialogue you're referring too?
That I could not find the earlier suspected repeat.
And I meant this part of the dialogue:
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 months ago
Pale skin and a pretty face framed by blonde hair. Smiling, amused.
I don't know her.
"Who?"
"What." Pushing herself off the fence. "Where and why." Walking away, talking to me but you wouldn't know it. "And probably how."
The type of thing that sticks in one's mind, hence my real or imagined dejavu.
-
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 months ago
So onwards we'll go, to a hopeful conclusion, but from here on out no more word limits.
I assume you're all okay with that?
Well as they say, more is better
In more seriousness, I can imagine how frustrating you are finding a strict word count, especially given the fact that each chapter is it's own mini scene that has to fit within it. So not surprising to see you wish to discard that particular shackle.
-
As for the chapter itself...
A fun little verbal tug-of-war between the two of them. Advancing, pressing, retreating, all with a veil of uncertainty. Appropriate, given their ages. A strange 'relationship' that they have, one that makes me curious as to what exactly happened between them in the first place - although I suspect the specific details shall remain a mystery as the story moves on...
Halfway through the gap and stopping to turn, giving me a questioning look.
Chloe: the school bully to everyone bar me, because I bully her. Sometimes. If the mood takes. If she asks me to, rare, but it has happened. I bind and gag her, ruling the ruler.
"Nothing." Not nothing. Something. "Things have changed." Bigger things, smaller things between you and me. Possibly. "I." Small smile at this brave new world, small laugh. "Felt it?"
"Felt what?" Confused and looking around. The woodland that begins on school grounds, continuing beyond the chainlink boundary, the gap Chloe clearly knew through which we've escaped.
Through which I'm still escaping.
"Invisible barrier is it?" Grinning now, amused. All bravado because having rolled- metaphorically not physically -back and forth on the bench it's her house we're going back to.
"Ha." Bravado of my own, enough to falter Chloe's smile because sure, her house but I haven't surrendered.
Yet.
But what if I did? The inner voice wants to know. I, kind of, maybe, want to know too. What would happen if Chloe tied me up, if I gave in, if she pushed and I rolled over for her, for once?
The school day's only half over, but we're cutting. Like smirking assassins we sneaked out the building and took the school field at a run bags bouncing at my hip and her back.
Chloe's chest bouncing.
Tree's and overgrown bushes cluster in one corner of the field, the woodland hiding the chainlink, woodland we're now walking through.
"Is it far?"
"Other side of the woods." Stopping as she glances round, finding me stopped water bottle out. Lips wet. Chloe wanders back, accepting the offered drink.
Thirsty work ditching school.
Hand waved roughly left without looking face tipped skywards throat working at swallowing. The path, I note goes straight, roughly, but what do I know.
"Ten minutes. Fifteen."
"Nowhere near my house."
"No."
Eye contact as she returns the bottle, unspoken words. Chloe's always appeared at mine when she wants binding, those rare events and I've no clue why she wants it. I haven't asked. And those other times, me- quietly yet firmly -insisting she submit, Chloe's come willingly enough. To mine.
Never hers.
I suppose she must like it, the ropes and struggles?
We carry on, the unspoken: that we're doing all this because she'd tabled the motion, the suggestion slash order slash decision to tie me up. She'd dropped that bomb and I hadn't flinched, nor refused.
Although I still might, and she knows that.
Chloe lives in a mid terrace, one of those big sprawling roads that run a loose crescent shape and sprout turn-offs left and right all along thier length, these smaller offshoots being where the houses are. It looks like a three bedroom, driveway in place of a front garden and no garage. No car but there's an old faded oil stain. Number seven-one-four improbably on the door when most roads I know run, at best up into the two hundreds.
"And there's really nobody here?" Not doubting but, my parents are both shift workers and often home at strange hours. Sleeping, coming or going. A guaranteed empty daytime house is alien to me.
"Not a soul." Turning at the door and the smile drops, prehaps seeing the half worry and, or, nerves on my face. Chloe goes serious, hand lifted to cross slash over her chest. "Promise." Voice to match her face. "Okay?"
"Okay."
Okay.
"Keep them on." Head shaking as I bend to unlace boots. "I've got a big wardrobe, tend to keep everything in there."
"Right."
Door locked we pass down a short corridor, single huge room opening up to the right: sofas boxing in a flatscreen towards the front and bookcases strung along the far wall. Table and chairs glimpsed towards the back, archway to the kitchen beyond.
Stairs directly ahead half closed door beyond.
"Bathroom." Pointing it out as we begin ascending. And upstairs an L shaped corridor, closed doors and we pass them all, walking to the end.
Chloe's room.
Which is smaller then mine: single bed pushed into a corner beneath the window atop which a laptop sits, powered down yet open. Messy duvet as though waking up were a fight. No bedside table instead a small lamp sits on the floor. Across the room is a foldable table, plastic chair pushed underneath the surface a scattering of schoolwork and makeup, large mirror leaning against the wall.
And her wardrobe is something you can walk into, like a separate room, a cupboard with shelves and a hanging rail, curtain to close it off from the bedroom.
Gothic art posters scatter the walls: unicorns and dragons, wizards spellcasting atop rocky mountains.
Whilst Chloe steps into the wardrobe, curtain tacked back tucked behind a large silver wall mounted hook. Visible, shedding boots and jacket, her tie. I do the same, hanging and placing mine on and beside the chair, tie stuffed into my messenger bag which gets hung off the chair back too.
Brief moment loitering, taking care of business and I turn expecting to be caught in the act.
But.
No.
Chloe's still busy.
Fetching.
Rope.
Out of the wardrobe clutching a thick bundle of coiled up dirty white ropes that look. Old. Oil and dirt stains telling an unknown story, adding a certain attitude, almost a meaness to it.
A world away from my clean bought new brown twine like cord.
Honestly I was expecting scarves, or tape at a push, and the unexpectedness of her having proper rope hits like a curveball, unbalancing me.
Which Chloe evidently spots, swooping in and trying for an early kill, hands on hips and bossy tone.
"Take off your shirt."
Visual fencing. A stare off, but.
We're in her room, and she's holding the rope and I'm already wrong-footed.
Chloe's mouth opening, to demand again or to surrender herself? Snapping shut as the white shirt hits the floor-
-at my feet and....
"What?"
"What?" Victory smile replaced by a frown. "Tasha?"
"Nothing." Definitely something. But what?
Looking down at myself, and across at Chloe, taking stock.
We're both fifteen, slim though Chloe's chest is the more impressive by far, mountains thrusting against her tightly fitted shirt whilst my own nestle like small hills inside a white bra. Now visible of course.
She's a brunette to my blonde, equally long curling hair but Chloe's fringe is longer her style more choppy.
"Don't let me interrupt you mid flow."
Which brings back the smile and there's a sudden nervous lump in my throat, a certainty she'll demand my skirt next.
No.
Walking around behind me, wrists collected and placed. Crossed at the small of my back. Pinch of rope moments later, feeling the unfamiliar rubbing and tightness of each knot pulled. Sensations that fling thoughts of fighting back far away.
The binding feels very tight, secure the way I assume my own must because I do things properly, yanking rope and putting effort into ensuring there's no slack. My wrists feel welded together, and nobody I tied ever escaped.
Small wriggle, testing as I feel Chloe leaning in, wrapping the excess around my skinny waist. More yanking and binding pinning wrists to body.
Making sure.
Wandering around front.
"Down on the floor."
"Not the bed?"
"No." Dropping a tease like wink, enjoying this and why not. "More room on the floor, and I want to watch you squirm."
Lowering myself as though in a dream, how is it going to feel, rolling around helplessly?
Laying down on my stomach, strange new feeling of carpet rubbing at breasts and belly, of my arms force pulled back shoulders flexed differently and the pinch at my wrists.
Ankles crossed too, Chloe placing them, binding them equally tightly the rope muted through my socks, still pinching and tight, but no rubbing.
And without pause the main hogtie rope. She really has studied, ankles reeled in legs pulled and bent at the knee and I can't stop it. Her. Pulled tighter and more, biting my lip to keep quiet stifling a gasp at this new position I'm helpless to prevent being placed in.
A grunt from unseen Chloe, working away. Another and I feel her shift, step back move away but her absence doesn't change my pose. She's tied me, fixed ankles to wrists and now I'm stuck.
Hogtied.
Chloe's- goosebumps breaking out and a shiver running down me at the thought -prisoner.
And she'd declared I'd have to beg for freedom.
"Now who's in charge?" Gloating tone from behind, from the bed. I, on the fifth attempt and who knew moving whilst bound was so damn hard, flop over onto my side finding Chloe laid on her bed, on her side.
Looking down at me and smiling, of course.
"Hi."
"Hello up there."
"Anything you want to say?"
"Like...?"
"How about." A nod. "Wow what a great job you've done, it's so tight."
"Wow what a great job you've done." Making my voice deadpan despite the tingles. "It's so tight."
Chloe tuts, I half smile all bravado.
"I surrender."
"Do you?" Which earns me a laugh. "Well, give me a minute and I'll truss you up to make sure."
"A minute huh?" Amused, a tone which ramps up my tingles because she sounds just like I do. When I know I've won.
"Tell you what." Rolling to lay fully stretched out on her back, humped breasts towards the ceiling head cocked to the side still, facing me. "I'll give you twenty to get out and come make good on that threat. Or else I'm gagging you."
That last said without humour. A threat of her own the shark showing teeth.
And because I've never been tied up before, I've never struggled before. And it sounds silly but how do you?
"Twenty minutes." Licking dry lips wanting to say the words, and of course as I'd suspected having to is hard, my voice goes quiet whilst my head goes light. "Or you'll gag me."
"And take your skirt." A nod. "Yes."
But she's breathing fast too, affected too.
Watching whilst I struggle, attempting at first to loosen the main hogtie rope by way of tugging, pushing with my legs muscles straining but they won't move.
Wriggling, snake like my whole bound body in motion side to side and pulling, pushing. Thrusting my body. Chest forwards whilst throwing arms and legs back trying to create some slack. Trying to loosen the ropes.
Panting now, whole body bucking like something semi out of control, arms and legs feel like I've just done double sports, sweat in my bra and.
Chloe watching.
Enjoying this. Me, helpless.
Winding down, spent and laid still rolled onto my back now. Drifting and not really in the room.
Mind occupied by the realisation of my true helplessness, however much time is left of the twenty I can't try again, know it would be hopeless anyway.
Chloe has me, is about to gag me. Possibly even strip me further.
And then she-
"What's this?"
Jerked back to reality I look, see Chloe holding up the blank paper, confusion on her face.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 months ago
Might? Might, be imagined since that quoted section doesn't seem familiar to me?
Thinking more about it, I think it is related to something else I read about two months ago that happened to use almost the exact same wording. The irony is the context was entirely different.
I suppose it is technically only a coincidence if you actually notice?
Well 'mystery solved' I suppose, even if it was a mystery only I was concerned with.
-
I enjoyed the description of Tasha's thoughts and emotions, specifically her 'panic'. Or more specifically, her 'happy panic' as she realizes she has 'lost' and the consequences that await her.
Even if that is a horrible term for it I just made up But despite clumsy wording on my part, I think the feeling is not an unfamiliar one to many readers.
Probably me reading more into it then was ever intended, but the scene is sweet, in a way. Endearing? The description of what is, on the surface, a simple 'game' with no real stakes, versus how they feel about it. A charming simplicity and innocence (although I will admit I kind of hate that term) to it all.
Not uncommon themes of course, given the overall topic of this board, but I thought it worked well.
This line I think really helps 'sell' it, if I had to pick one.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 months ago
And because I've never been tied up before, I've never struggled before. And it sounds silly but how do you?
Silly indeed - the good kind of silly
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 months ago
Next chapter below then, a reveal of sorts though not a huge one.
You'll see
Indeed. An interesting tidbit. Blank pages are referenced often throughout this story, although originally the inclusion seemed to be natural (as many cases dealt with literal writing).
Now... Well now I am not so sure about that.
Curious where it goes.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑2 months ago
More still to come of course, thanks for reading along.
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 months ago
Well 'mystery solved' I suppose, even if it was a mystery only I was concerned with.
I was concerned/interested too always thr chance I'd written it in earlier and forgotten.
Plus the whole story, one of the founding principles is to be nuts, weird and to not make complete sense so it's possible I wrote and repeated just for that reason.
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 months ago
....her 'happy panic' as she realizes she has 'lost' and the consequences that await her.
"Know what." About to speak and she cuts straight through, dropping the paper already turning away. "I don't care."
Stepping over me, out of sight and I'm too mesmerised by the fluttering white sheet- seesawing through the air to land underneath the table -to roll over and see where she's gone.
Soon enough the answer arrives. Felt presence of Chloe kneeling behind, followed by her upper body leaning into view dangling breasts seeming to loom too large in my immediate sightline. Grinning face above.
Dark red woollen scarf held low between outstretched hands.
"I think your time's up."
Involuntary wriggle, suddenly panicked. Chloe's choice of gag drawing closer and I'm looking at the paper.
And.
"Wait. Pleasshhhffgggmm." Muffled by wool, thrust into my open mouth and I lean back, just my head, body already pressed against Chloe. "Please."
Begging.
"Yes?" Pausing, scarf held on but not in my mouth, taste and feel of wool on my lips. A clear threat or promise though her next words are playful. Amused.
"Time to go home is it?"
And despite that rising panic, almost thrill like and make sense of that why don't you?
I laugh.
And the bully frowns.
But my.
Friend.
Is she?
Laughs too, balls and tosses the scarf before climbing over me, rolling. Brief pressure of Chloe, weight of those large breasts sliding across an arm.
Unexpected contact.
Facing me now, laid side by side. Like lovers, almost.
"Glad you came?"
"Glad you tied me up?" Like thrust and parry.
Write it down write it down.
A pulse in my head.
Exchanging smiles and aren't we both funny. But.
"Where's the paper?"
"Paper?" Rolling even as she speaks, side onto her back and reaching, coming back to face me breasts shifting beneath Chloe's shirt bra working overtime.
"This?" Blank sheet in her hand, turning it, staring. Examining.
I wait.
Any moment now.
Chloe tosses the paper behind her, fluttering crash like dive back underneath the table. And my mouth works but nothing comes out.
"What?"
"Don't you care?"
"About." Giving me a look, the kind I'd give a crazy person who I wasn't sure knew they were: cautious, do you humour them or be honest? "The paper?"
Yes.
The god damn ever loving paper.
Is what I don't say, and nor do I gesture like the crazy person Chloe's expression seems to think I am.
Of course I can't gesture, because of all the tight ropes. I wouldn't though, if I could, because that would be crazy.
Ha.
But how to explain when I don't fully understand myself, when I shouldn't have to explain.
How.
"Tasha?"
"Chloe."
"Do you think I could have a go?"
Finally taking note of her tone: nervous like always when she comes to me, asking.
Chloe, and I could- brain spinning lighting up new paths -kiss her.
"Sure." Nodding, smiling we're all friends here. "You can help me with a science experiment."
"What?"
"Who. Why. When and where."
"Huh?"
Answering questions with questions with questions and now I'm being treated to another odd look.
I laugh.
"You're weird Tasha."
"Most likely." No venom in her statement, smiling. Approving? "So you want binding?"
"Well...."
"Want to be my lab experiment?"
"Don't you mean assistant?"
Still laid close, something cosy about this back and forth, despite or prehaps even because of the fact I'm tied up.
I'll work it in, find out.
"No no." Wriggle, closer and interestingly Chloe mirrors the move, still on her back shoulder now nestled against my bra- but no longer shirt -clad modest chest. "The assistant, assists. The experiment gets experimented on."
"Which is code for being tied up?"
"And is that a problem?"
"Since it's you." Small hint to the fact she'd bury anyone else who even looked at her funny, let alone suggested. Demanded and insisted that first time in my case, anything like this.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑1 month ago
Plus the whole story, one of the founding principles is to be nuts, weird and to not make complete sense so it's possible I wrote and repeated just for that reason.
Certainly quite accurate
RopeBunny wrote: ↑1 month ago
I quite like it actually
Well sometimes flailing for words can work out. I suppose in a way that is what writing can become sometimes, either because one wishes to express a similar concept in a different fashion, or when one wishes to express a concept or emotion that seems too complicated for mere imperfect language (or for one's own mastery of said language).
But that is starting to get into more abstract (and off-topic) territory...
And here I laugh too - a good place to insert a sarcastic comment about 'well what do you think it is when you randomly sneak over to each other's houses and tie each other up (while engaging in flirtatious behavior)?'
Friends indeed - or perhaps friends with bondage benefits?
RopeBunny wrote: ↑1 month ago
"The assistant, assists. The experiment gets experimented on."
I quote only a small portion, but the whole exchange is a nice bit of banter/metaphor. Leaves it open to interpretation *exactly* what Tasha means (there being at least two main possibilities) - which I suspect is part of the fun from Chloe's perspective (or should be ).
Wonder if us readers will be left teased as well by a sudden perspective shift in the next chapter...
And the mystery of the paper and the writing continues as well - it is as if Tasha is compelled by some force to write? But that seems too straightforward an interpretation for this particular tale.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑1 month ago
Answering questions with questions with questions
BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑1 month ago
Friends indeed - or perhaps friends with bondage benefits?
Definitely something growing there. I like to have a romance, of some kind at or near the centre of my stories. There's a whole extra layer there if the people engaging in bondage have feelings for each other.
Friday, the day after. Last day of school before the weekend.
Chloe doesn't even wait until lunch.
"Yes?" Managing to tamp down the smile, looking up and around: slowly spreading circle of emptiness, my classmates for first period English stepping back the line separating. Leaving me alone except for Chloe, stood opposite now glaring at everyone bar me.
Because she wouldn't dare.
She obviously wants. Needs? Me, to come with her, but she can't boss or order me, clearly doesn't like the fact of others seeing her not bossing and ordering someone.
So.
"Not going to class?" All innocence and Chloe's lips twitch, an almost smile.
She steps forwards.
The entire line- boys and girls -flinches back a pace as Chloe calmly reaches out, sliding the messenger bag off my shoulder and placing it on hers.
Stepping back.
"You're late for science."
Another twitched smile, mine this time. Funny girl.
Waiting.
"Well." Stepping towards the bully, turning to mock bow at the line reforming, flooding back into my absence. "Enjoy English won't you."
Ten minutes later we're in the woods, through the chainlink and sat together on an old wooden bench somehow dragged and now lost within a tangle of hazel and thorn bushes. Surrounded by green.
Invisible.
I've removed my tie, stuffing it into my- returned -bag, shirt open at the collar. Chloe's tie is off too, her shirt open only more so. She's showing cleavage. A lot of cleavage. And at the bench, bags dropped me sitting first by accident or design? I relax back against the armrest body tilted side on expecting Chloe to park opposite, at the far end.
Instead finding her next to me, not so close as to invade my personal space, not in my lap. But close.
"Tasha?" My name like a question, phone in her hands spinning, spinning and I wait.
Here we go.
"You tied me up yesterday."
"True."
"In my room?"
"Nice room too."
Which earns me an unexpected scowl, for all that my bedroom's bigger, prehaps with newer furniture, I'd liked the cosiness of Chloe's.
"I'm not allowed my brothers." Bitterness in the tone speaking of unseen- by me -arguments. "Even though he's been off at uni two years now, almost never fucking home."
"Right." Reaching out, tentative to pat her bare leg. Comfort. "Sorry."
Brief flinch as my hand makes contact, but it's followed by a glance. A smile and Chloe's hand atop mine.
"Point is. Tasha." Holding her phone properly now and she can't see the smile leaking onto my face. Tapping and scrolling.
Holding the screen out to me.
"What the fuck is this?"
Me. Of course. Unmistakably me, rope bound into a fairly tight hogtie and laid on Chloe's bedroom floor, and anyone- idle moment of wondering just how many friends she's had over, or had full stop -who's seen her room will recognise it. I'm dressed in a school skirt, black and hugging slim legs the way they do. And a sensible white bra showing, some cleavage. Enough to interest, should you care, enough to be worth showing off but not acres, or eons.
I'm looking into the lens. Grinning.
"Is this a trick?"
"Well." She's frowning, and more idle wondering how many times has she looked at that since I left yesterday?
"Stupid question." Flashed glance from her, I flash a smile. "But what do you see?"
"You." Staring, at my photo. "Tied up?" Unsure despite the pretty clear evidence. "In my room?"
"Indeed." Nodding, I put on a gruff male voice. "Well done Holmes, you've cracked the case."
Chloe laughs.
"But." Looking from real me to photo, also real but I'm not sure she believes it, me. "How?"
"Well, that's where it gets complicated."
"So explain it then."
Bully tones. Bossing and then comically- I think -Chloe belatedly realises who she's sat with. Flinches, flicks a downcast glance my way.
Sorry.
I pat her leg again, smile.
Plunge in.
"What do you remember about yesterday." Like pondering, leaning back arm stretched out along the benches wooden back, behind Chloe who shuffles closer so now she is, basically in my lap. "After you found me at lunch."
"We argued." Looking at me. "But, like a game I." Tapping her phone, screen off my impossible- to her -photo gone. "I had the craziest idea to tie you up."
Which, apparently and given the evidence, happened. Only she doesn't remember.
"So we fought." Nodding, suppressing a shiver because I do remember. "And then?"
"We cut school." Thoughtful. "Went back to mine and then you."
Having to pause, perhaps to fight, to fail at stopping the blush from climbing her neck and cheeks.
"I tied you up?"
"Yes." Looking down into the depths of her cleavage, and when her gaze finds me again she's. Well well.
Smiling.
"In my underwear."
The words causing my own blush, and a flooding montage of memory, scattergun images, brief clips like a highlight reel.
Me, ropes removed and rising as Chloe- metaphorically -falls. Stepping in to pull her skirt down and off. No words no asking permission just taking and her complying, shirt off and discarded, both items tossed aside together leaving her in a white bra full to overflowing with breasts and black pants, Wile E Coyote riding an oversize red firework across her butt.
Binding her wrists, rope becoming more rope: a hogtie on her bed.
And there's something about watching Chloe struggle. She submits, asking to be bound, letting me if I initiate. But once helpless she seems mad to discover the fact. She struggles hard, grunting and attacking, bouncing and rolling. Which, yesterday her breasts covered by nothing more then a half lace bra, skin exposed for days. It was quite a breath taking sight.
"You liked it?" As though she can see into my train of thought.
"Well." Very pointedly looking down into her cleavage. "What's not to like?"
"But back to the point." Because the silence, and her cleavage and my thoughts choice of direction were becoming uncomfortable. "Are you a computer nerd?"
"Fuck no." Laughing.
"Right." Nodding. "Am I?"
"Are you?"
"No." Quick smile. "So. Logically it really was me, in the photo. And, logically, because it's on your phone you took it. Yes?"
"I." Frowning, trying to follow. "Guess?"
"Okay."
Now comes the tricky part.
"When I tied you up-"
"In my underwear."
"Which I'll do again to that tree if you interrupt me again."
And the silence falls in like a dropped bomb on the back of my unthought out almost instinct like threat. Casually dropped because I'm in charge, of her. Slight panic at a line crossed- because outside would be quite a risk let alone in her underwear -my gaze darts to Chloe. Finding her.
Breathing fast and mouth open in a O of shock. But, not mad and slowly, as though saying sorry. It feels like. She slides closer, leaning her body into and against mine.
Keeping it there.
"When I tied you up." Voice even despite my sped up heart. "Do you remember I wrote it down?"
"Um."
I wait.
"I remember paper?" I can hear the frown. "That you kept scribbling on." A nod and her voice becomes more smile like. "Talking out loud, descriptive words." A brief chuckle. "About my chest."
"Well." Not thinking but it feels right to put my arm around her, small squeeze. "They're certainly worth mentioning."
Chloe wriggles against me, moving with the hug and I keep my arm in place.
"Tasha?"
Because it's been awhile and all we've done is sit, and cuddle.
"Sorry." Another squeeze. "Wandering mind."
"You're thinking of me against that tree." Pulling back to look me in the eye, a half smile. "Aren't you?"
"Well I am now." Laughing, blushing as Chloe shakes her upper body breasts bouncing side to side.
"I'm trying to decide how much to tell you. How much you'd believe."
"Can't you just tell me everything and live with being called a crazy person?" Cheeky, smiling.
"I can live with that." Smiling back.
"Everything isn't actually much." Like a warning. "Basically. I hand out paper, and people. Girls. Tie each other up, and write it down."
"And...?"
"And I told you it wasn't much."
"Yes. But...." Confused, of course. "Why?"
"I imagine they want to tie each other up?"
"Yes, fine." Dismissing my humour, casting it aside. "But why write it down, and what happens afterwards?"
"If they don't, then they don't remember so it didn't happen."
"That's."
"Is it?" Because she'd been about to say silly. Or stupid. Until recent evidence: that she, clearly tied me before I tied her, but she doesn't remember it whereas she does remember me writing stuff down as she lay tied, fighting.
"So it's." Frowning, a quick laugh. "Magic paper?"
"Maybe."
"Fuck off is it."
Seeing me not smiling.
"Is it?"
"I don't know." A shrug.
"Could we." Thinking. "Could you show me. Um. More?"
"Well it's either that or I'm tying you to your bed."
RopeBunny wrote: ↑1 month ago
There's a whole extra layer there if the people engaging in bondage have feelings for each other.
Indeed.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑1 month ago
Friday, the day after. Last day of school before the weekend.
I like the 'stream of consciousness' nature of this part - normally one would not restate the obvious in writing, but it works here for that reason.
Quite the revelation about the paper... One that as usual just spawns more questions. Seems Tasha (Natasha?) is the mystery girl. But why the writing? What happens with the pages? Is the memory loss connected to the paper or is something else going on that the paper counteracts?
Also, while I doubt the story will head in this direction, I wonder if by erasing parts that were written, one can selectively edit the memory of the experience?
As for the vote:
I suspect I shall end up in the minority, but I will go with A, even if I suspect the 'answers' shall simply be yet more questions
conclusion, but from here on out no more word limits.
)
