Muses 2: Rope Bunny in a Theater (F/F)
“Wow, Jenny, I think they just closed the theater with us in it,” Nichole says to me.
“For the night? Really? It’s only 6 o’clock!” I put down my violin.
“Yeah, I think so!”
Nichole looks around herself as if to be sure we aren’t being watched. She walks around me and wraps an arm around my torso and gags me with her left hand for extra grip. My heart leaps just a little because I don’t know of any TUG toys we have with us. I squeak into her hand and get a bit excited.
“I’ll tie you up after one more run through this first movement, OK?”
“Mmm!” I nod with excitement, and she removes her hand, “Going full Gangsta Queen tonight?”
“The Queen should always love the Princess for a happy family.”
“Gangstas gonna Gangsta, right?”
“Always. This one will be special,” my sister from another mother smiles, “I love you, Jenny.”
“Awww,” I blush a little, “I love you more.”
Within two months of my big brother dying, Nichole entered my life. Oh, the joys we’d shared over the past 16 years from pre-K now to being college sophomores! We were in almost every single class together from then until we graduated with the difference being that I took shop in high school while she took home economics. Major or minor, if it happened, odds are at 99% that I was there to witness it.
When Dad gave me his old car to bring back to life, Nichole was the first person to know and did her best to help me fix it. When Minnesota Tech offered her its highest scholarship and paired us as freshman roommates, we rejoiced together. When she made the mature decision to walk away from her family, I was there.
I was there even for the little things. When Nichole got her sister's hand-me-downs, it was to me that she first showed off her “new” style of gym shorts and a bandana; it was she who convinced me to embrace the same pizzazz. When our friend Casey had the idea of starting a “club,” it was Nichole and I whose bizarre she adopted as the Club symbol, and it was me who was tied first in Nichole’s presence. Likewise, I was the first person to ever tie up Nichole.
Now, we stand here dressed just like those days of our youth. I’m wearing what I know to be a pair of brown athletic shorts, or trainers, a red tank and underneath that a matching sports bra, a pair of pink socks that come up my legs a couple inches, white canvas sneakers, and, of course, a pink bandana on my head as a headband with the knot underneath my fluffy braid. No flowers on my bandanas, please.
Nichole loves flowers though. She said it was a navy blue bandana she wore as a headkerchief with the triangle not quite folded in half so that almost the entire flower was visible above the bridge of her nose and hiding her hairline. An icy blue long-sleeve t-shirt and matching navy trainers are accompanied by white crew socks and black canvas sneakers. Navy and black were the same to me. Yellow vs. Pink? No way! Purple? Bleck!
I have blue color blindness called tritanopia. I have no ability to see true blue light! None at all! It’s weird, though, despite the name, that I can tell that Nichole’s wearing an icy blue shirt as I see the world as shades of bright blues and pinks. Well, look at the examples below. If you’re not colorblind, then the top row’s what you see, and the bottom row’s what I see!
I’m now trying to saw my fiddle for one of Schumann’s violin sonatas while trying not to think about my captivity to come! I’m trying not to imagine what kinds of supplies she’s going to use on me and how she’s planning to use them on me. My playing was fine for the first part of the movement, but as time went on I saw a smile growing on Nichole’s face each time she looked at me. Sweat pours off my brow, and my playing deteriorates faster than the conditions on a day with severe weather. I just want to be tied up already!
“Just stop!” she starts laughing, “Jenny, I love you!”
“You psyched me out!” I pout and cross my arms, “I quit!”
“Oh, you do, do you?” she barely can burst out her words amidst her laughter.
“I’m not too impressed by this!” I’m doing a terrible job of feigning anger with my pout.
“Well, I am!” Nichole stands up and closes the piano, “Because you’re my sister.”
“Oh, sure, play with my emotions like you are.”
I can’t be even a little angry at Nichole. I love her way too much to ever be angry at her for any longer than 30 minutes. Inside, I’m thinking too much about my impending imprisonment. I just want to be tied up already! My mind's bouncing like a little child who was just promised a cookie if it behaves all the way home. A day with TUGs was a good day to me!
I play with my braid while Nichole takes her sweet time with her things while I had my violin in its case and the music in its folder within 30 seconds. She's toying with my emotions for TUGs and knows how I am. If she didn’t love me, she’d have cut right to the fun. She's milking this for all its worth, and I’m pacing about the theater stage waiting for her to tell me what to do.
“All right, all right, Jenny, let’s go,” the Gangsta Queen pointed toward a passageway.
“Yay!” I skipped behind her with excitement.
From the first time I was tied up, I loved it. I trust my friends to not hurt me, and it's like being thrust into a world of my own when I’m tied and gagged. Tighter bonds and bigger gags are best in my eyes, and I love being left to just squirm and yell. Even telling you it makes me excited!
I love the feeling of my flexible arms getting crushed together behind my back and the sound of tape coming off the roll. She's so good at tying me up and knows how to make sure I’m having fun whether it's nice and easy like this or a rough and tumble kidnapping. Tape wraps my wrists, somewhere south of my elbows, and somewhere north of my elbows. I was already in a state of euphoria. Just remember that tighter’s better.
I’m 5’1” and weigh 100 pounds. Of course I’m an easy target because I’m such a rope bunny as well. I love being tied up! At some point most of my friends hurt my feelings too because it's hard to be small! You start to feel taken advantage of and like you're just seen as an easy target instead of being targeted because the person knows you’ll enjoy it. The smallest girl’s always grabbed first when it's all chaos breaking loose.
I smile widely and squeal a little with excitement while I’m getting tied up. There's one long strip of tape that Nichole wraps on either side of my boobs, and the next strip clamps my arms down to my waist after she pulls my shirt up a little. My legs get it, too. She tapes my thighs at about one inch from the joints, and she does it to my legs too. How she tries to make sure I am secure and comfy! Everyone needs a friend like Nichole! No, you can't have her; she's mine!
“Let me have these,” Nichole sits me on the ground and begins untying my shoelaces.
“Nichole Blakely, you naughty girl! You wouldn’t dare!” I squeal while actually getting excited.
“Only the best for you, my love,” she took my socks off my feet, “Wait until I tape those toes.”
“NO!” I clamp my mouth shut with a mischievous smile.
“Nooo,” she whispers before jerking on my braid, “DEFIANCE!”
“YOW!” I yell as my head jerks before the socks go into my mouth, “EWWWW!”
A dirty sock gag, my socks and my socks alone (you got that?), is the best gag in the whole wide world. Nothing's more humiliating, without being gross, for a gym girl like me. Four layers of gray duct tape act as a cleave gag and eight over my lips squish my cheeks down in a humiliating manner. My sneaker's pushed against my face, and it's held in place with more tape wrapping around my head under my braid like the gag.
“Mmmm!” I kick my legs after Nichole lies me down on the floor.
“You are a ball of energy!” Nichole laughs.
“Nmmmm!” I shake my head and slap her with my braid to chase her away.
“Don't do that! Hahaha!” I get the boisterous laughter I desire.
“Mmm mmm mmmm!” I give a loud squeal, “MMMMMMM!”
“I have to punish you!” she sets her phone up to record us.
I shake my head in defiance, and I can feel the sparkle that Nichole always claims to see in my eyes when I’m tied up. No one realizes this, but Nichole’s eyes sparkle only when she has tied me up. It’s always the captive that people notice; the captor often feels their own jubilation. I’m always thinking about others at some level even when I’m thinking about myself. Tape's awful, but it works so well when it’s right on your skin and excites me so much.
SMACK! Nichole starts the process.
“Mmmmm!” I groan despite loving the feeling of the shot of pain throughout my body.
“Ah, how I love that sound effect!”
SMACK! she has become a professional since she opened up about this passion of hers.
“Mmmm!” I yell into my socks.
SMACK!
“Eeeeeeee!” I have such a high pitched scream!
SMACK!
“Isn't this fun?!”
“Mmm hmm!” I nod in my usual foolish manner.
SMACK!
“MMMMMMM!” my socks taste so bad, but I love it!
SMACK!
“I love you so much,” Nichole speaks from her heart, “Spanking you is a pleasure.”
SMACK!
“Yeow!”
Spanking's different for me than it is for Nichole. For her, it's a kinky flair that helps her cope with her childhood; for me, it's wild because my parents never spanked me in my memory. It's the whole helplessness thing. I like my helplessness being exploited; she likes exploiting my helplessness. We're a perfect match!
SMACK!
“Wheeee!” it's so much fun even if it hurts.
SMACK!
“Quit smiling! Ha ha!” Nichole enjoyed the spanking more than me.
SMACK!
“Ooof!” that one knocked the wind out of me. Big sniff of shoe.
“Someone is having a great time.”
SMACK!, I can’t stop her.
SMACK!, I’m taped too well to do anything but squeal.
SMACK!, she's holding me down so I can't really squirm.
“Eeeeee! Owwwww! Mmmm! Uhmone hell ee!” I cry out to no one.
SMACK!, being duct taped is so awesome, and you need to experience it if you’re a rope bunny like me.
SMACK!, I clench my fists to help lessen the blow.
“Ou are a aughy hirl!” I chide my sweet sister.
SMACK!, it hurts more when you tighten your muscles.
SMACK!, when I wince from the pain, it's a good spanking.
SMACK!, when Nichole's laughing, it's a perfect spanking.
SMACK!, when I’m laughing, it's a perfect time for her, too.
SMACK!, man, do I love her!
We pause to let me catch my breath after that. I look up at her and squirm on the floor while looking as innocent as I can. I blush a little because I sometimes can’t believe that I get so much pleasure out of this.
“You are such cute, spunky, adorable, gangsta, little, athletic, sweet, naughty, bandana obsessed, friendly, considerate, gluttonous rope bunny! And now you're completely helpless in a theater.”
“Mmmmmm!” I squeal again.
“What's that? You want me to tape you into a cute little ball?”
“Noooo!” I roll over and begin yelling at her like I always do in such moments.
“Oh, and you want me to blindfold you with your headband as well. Gladly.”
“Nggggg!” I shake my head, but she uses my own gear against me.
I’m so flexible that Nichole has no problem folding my knees into my chest taping my quads and back. She fills the entire distance with crushing layers of tape. She's super good with wrapping, and I squeal with delight. She repeats the exercise to tape my lower legs.
Then she goes to the limits for me as she does for me alone for my pleasure. She encases my hands in tape. My head, knees, butt, and feet are all that's exposed now; she can’t do anything fun to my knees; she already spanked me. That leaves girlfriend kisses or… NO!
“Someone's feet are exposed! It’d be a shame if someone tickled them!”
“Mmmm!” I was rocked onto my back and wiggled my feet.
“I forgot something!” she grabs a scrap of string from something, I guess.
“Mmmmmmmmmmm!” my big toes are tied together.
“Heh heh heh!” she's no dominant except when it's me when she goes all out.
“EEEEEEEEEE!” I scream bloody murder when she starts tickling me.
Getting tickled is best when you're already humiliated with your own socks and a shoe tormenting you. It's more amazing when you're being tickled by a master like Nichole who's an artist on the inside despite being a chemist. Chemistry is her muse, and this is who she is. She goes until you're in pain and then doesn't stop until she's sure that every cackle has been found and that you have been poisoned by your socks until you start to believe it tastes good and been gassed out by your shoe until you’re convinced it’s something you’d use as air freshener.
I scream and roll about as best as I can, but I’m a rope bunny. I love it! I’m all of the things that Nichole said I am, and it's hard not to be proud of it when those are the character traits that explain part of why we’re best friends. I love her because she’s a pensive, selfless, bandana obsessed, kind, naughty, sweet, imaginative, helpful, kinky, brave, sadistic, reasonable, mentally strong, affectionate Gangsta Queen, and for many other reasons beyond what is or isn't relevant now. Interspersed amongst the tickling is the occasional spank to make it all difficult to predict. We’re sisters loving each other in a way only sisters can; it’s true of all people I know that play with a sister.
I’m exhausted. Toe cheese fills my mouth, and my own foot gas fills my mouth and lungs. Searing pain from an eternity of tickling–sometimes she tickled me in off and on sessions for upwards of 1-2 hours– 45 minutes tonight–burns my lungs, legs, and stomach. The squeeze of the tape has delighted me in its unforgiving tightness. I now just wish to be left to sleep like this, bound, gagged, blindfolded, and helpless, but we can’t stay here. Nichole has no choice; to my sadness, she cuts the tape.
During release, I like quiet. There are hormones and emotions involved. All the binding makes your body release hormones, and the tortures add more. Talking is useless. I won’t respond. I lay flat on my back in an X on the wood floor behind the piano. I’m gagged. My skin's bright red. My breathing’s heavy.
Tickling is all-encompassing. Spanking sees you tensing your glutes and often your hamstrings as well. A good spanking, a good one like I got, involves more muscles because the pain causes you to writhe like a snake, stretch, or curl up; which happens is dependent on the person. A good tickle takes everything though. Your body's trying to defend itself in any way that’ll work, and you can’t do anything because much of it is a reflex. I know a girl who isn’t ticklish at all, and I have a friend who's so sensitive that she breaks out in shrieking giggles as soon as the first finger touches her body. I’m closer to the shrieky end of the tickle love spectrum except I have a more guttural laugh. Relative to my size and natural squeak and squeal, it’s guttural.
Nichole’s exhausted as well. She did all the research to understand what happens in these games, but I don't remember the term. I just know that I get this incredible emotional high where I am just flattened out and am almost comatose. I switch from super energetic, resistant, and giggling to limp, submissive, and silent. It’s a timeless experience that just fades, and I only reach it with select groups of people; one such example is when I’m alone with Nichole. I have gotten like this two times before, but this was the first time I had gotten to it at college. We just discovered it after Nichole came out about her kinks associated with bondage during the prior summer. If you repeated tonight’s scenario 100 times, 97 of those times I’d be the one taped.
I have vague recollection of Nichole sitting with me and petting my head while I lay on my belly in my catatonic state with the gag still on my mouth. As part of her affectionate petting, she also put my headband back in its original place. My eyes take a long time to adjust to the lights again until I was lucid enough to be aware of my surroundings. As much as I want to be brought home to be my roommate’s cuddle toy for the night, it’s time for my gaseous and succulent torment to come to an end. I prop myself up on my forearms and motion for Nichole to have all the honors of unwrapping my face. It’s rare for me to want to be released. As long as it doesn’t cause any other problems, I’ll gladly spend any free time tied up!
My face is bright red, but I’m smiling underneath it all. In our own ways, we’re as “Gangsta” as our nicknames would imply. For the first time, I stretch out all of my muscles to the limits of my comfort and sit up cross-legged. I study all of the redness still present on my bare skin after so much time being taped.
“How long?” I ask her and yawn.
“Over two hours tied up, and almost 45 minutes of release and cool down.”
“Take me home, please?” I close my eyes and reflect on the blessing of this girl.
“I’ll take you home and make sure you get a good hot shower and get into your pajamas and tuck you into your own bed, OK?”
“That’d be perfect,” with her help, I stand up.
“Let’s go,” she carries my things for me.
Walking's the hardest part for me after so much time spent tied up. My knees don't want to do their job. I’m tired, and I lean on my friend for support all the way back. Nichole’s a girl of her word. She takes me back to my dorm. She gets me ready for a shower. She’s there when I get out of the shower. She tucks me into bed. She does it all for me despite needing me to do these things for her just as much. With that kiss of sisterhood, Nichole bids me goodnight and goes to her own dorm. In the morning, I will have a multitude of photos and videos to watch, and I’ll be able to come back and recall this wonderful night as much as I wish. It’s one of the few sets I’ll go back and revisit and even sent to myself in a private message among maybe 12-15 total that I cherish that much with my times with my friends over the years.
Good night, and I hope you’ll be back to join me on more adventures in my rope bunny mind and even on a rare occasion where I found myself on top! This one’s a little flat at the start because I agreed to be tied up. I’m a rope bunny after all! I’ll be sure the next one’s a kidnapping TUG.
THE END
