Plymouth rising (MF+/F+)

[Caesar73]

Very delicious, @RopeBunny. You never fail to please with Plymouth. W

Absolutely! Well done!

[RopeBunny]

probably couldn't handle the pressure of tying up a beautiful model in front of a critical crowd like that.

Not sure I could either. Would be fun though, an actual model.

Thanks for commenting, next (shorter then usual, because that's how the story flowed) chapter below

[RopeBunny]

053.

"Ever been here before?"
"What?"
"This city, or." I shrug, scuff one booted foot on the pavement. "This street even. Ever been here before?"
"Oh." Emiko, stood beside me, both of us a couple of dozen metres outside the hotels front doors, stood in the sun, looks down at our feet. Looks back up, at me, shakes her head. "No." Giving me a half smile. "This is my first bondage convention."

She's got a cute smile.

We go left, because. "I prefer left."
"Why?" Walking beside me, walking close. Not holding hands, but, Emiko's close enough that we occasionally bump shoulders, as you do. I look across, she gives me a questioning look.

"Honestly." A shrug. "I don't know. But," tapping left arm with right, "all my tattoo's are on my left. So...."
"All?" Grabbing my right wrist, waving it, the evidence: the flames circling the wrist and climbing up my forearm, dissappearing into my jacket sleeve. Emiko grins.

"Well." Darting my right hand forward, quick, giving her cheek a playful and cheeky pat. "There's always one bucks the trend."

Of all places we end up in a Burger King.

"Not a bar then?" Teasing. "Or, you know." Emiko snatches a gold cardboard crown off an empty table as we pass, plants it on my head. "Someplace grown up."
"Very perceptive." I tease back, reaching up, tipping the crown to a more jaunty angle. "Um." Another thought suddenly occurring. "You eat meat, right?"
"Not beef." Pulling a face. "But yeah, Plymouth."
"Brooke."
"Brooke?" I smile, tip a one fingered salute. "Oh. Right." Nodding. "I'm still Emiko though."
"Sure you are." I laugh, Emiko smiles.

"Chicken?"
"Please."
"Okay." Turning my attention to the screen- automated ordering is apparently a thing, no more talking to a person -and, with only a couple of false starts, manage to order our food. "I'm going supersize." I announce, clicking, swiping my card. "Because I'm hungry."

"Hungry, did you say?" Not even trying to keep a straight face. "Got enough chips Brooke?"
"Maybe just another handful." I smile, realising too late that a US supersize is markedly different from what I'm used to. It's bigger. So. Much. Bigger.

"So." Chewing, sharing my chips despite having her own, Emiko waves one such fry at me. "Not that I mind, but. Why am I here?"
"For dinner." Managing to keep a straight face. Emiko tuts, tosses the chip at me. Misses despite my being right there.

"Ha." Tossing one back, returning fire, scoring a direct hit on those small but pert looking B cups. "What?" Arms spread wide, grinning. "We are." Pointing at the food. "Eating. Aren't we?"
"With that much food?" Grinning back, stabbing my half eaten chicken burger with a fresh chip. "Sure."
"Is there supposed to be more?"
"Well...."
"Want me to pull out the big guns?" I wiggle, causing my unzipped biker jacket to widen, my F cups to bounce. "Impress you with my." I stop. "With my...." Think. Damn, why is there, sometimes, no good line dangling within reach. I shrug.

"I guess." Emiko considers her own burger, takes a bite. "Maybe I was hoping for more."
"More?" I frown. "More what?"
"Well." Blowing out a breath, biting her lip. "Forget it. It'll just sound silly."
"Try me?" Dipping chips in ketchup. "After all." Tapping her hand, where it rests on her burger, with my chips, like a fairy casting a spell. Leaving a dollop of red sauce. "If you don't ask. You don't get."

I think. I think I know what she wants. Which is, if I'm right- tingle tingle -what I want too. Which is the thing I always want, the whole reason I became Plymouth.

Seeing her, cute little Emiko, standing in the lobby. Randomly bumping into the girl who did a very good job of binding me Japanese Shibari style. I decided- on the spot -that I wanted to play.

With her.

Tonight.

But I want to hear her say it. Because. Because it can be fun to tease, to make someone say a thing, rather then saying it for them.

"Hold on." Using another, fresh, wad of chips, I wipe the sauce- most of the sauce -from Emiko's hand. "There." Grinning as she looks up, from her hand, at me. I stuff the chips into my mouth, chewing loudly.

"There's." Swallowing, maybe she only just realised I'm staring her right in the eyes, locking gazes. "There's still some left."
"Is that right." Reaching forward, picking up her hand, bringing it to my mouth and licking, in one go, the remaining red smear.

Which, let's be clear, ketchup on it's own tastes kinda gross. But it's all about the moment, the sheer 'come on let's fuck' value of licking her body.

I let go of Emiko's hand, which drops onto the table like a stone since she's clearly not paying attention, looks in fact a little lost. Her hand, hitting the table, makes a loud thud. Makes her jump. I grin. "Speak."

"Well." Her voice, a little shaky. Emiko closes her eyes, breathes in, out. Opens them again. "Probably," voice back to normal, "you already have a girlfriend."
"No."
"Boyfriend?"
"No." Shaking my head, slowly. I lean forwards into the table, having pushed our tray of mostly eaten food to the side, my F cups resting on the bright plastic surface, this angle, the way my upper body is tilted forwards and up. Emiko has a great view all the way down down down into my cleavage. "No girlfriend." Voice just over a whisper, taking her hand, balled into a loose fist, in mine again. I pull a finger out for each point I make. "No boyfriend. No husband or wife. Not even." I grin, remembering the conversation of an hour ago. "A fish. I have." Pulling out her last finger, slotting my hand into hers, palm to palm, gripping. "Nobody to tie me up tonight."

"Well." Her own voice has dropped too. "I could...."
"Could you?" Pushing her hand, forearm, flat down on the table, I let go, instead tracing a fingernail up then down from wrist to inner elbow. "What could you do?"
"I." Biting her lip, with an effort- I can tell -she meets my eyes with hers.

Guess me, Plymouth, at full 'tie me up and fuck me' force, can be quite the hurricane.

"I'd like to play." Almost rushed out. "I. Well...."
"Yes?" Still leaning forwards, Emiko's eyes are like a bee, flitting from mine to my cleavage and back. "Go on."
"I had fun. Earlier." A half smile, like she's remembering. "On the stage. But. I. Um...."
"You wanted more?"
"I did." Nodding. "I was. Well. I forgot about the timer." She laughs, a brief shaky thing full of the adrenaline this moment is causing in us both. "Twice I forgot. I was." She stares at me then, and I can see the want, something like hunger, for me, in her eyes. "I forgot it was a contest, and, trussing you up. Well." She huffs out a breath. "I was looking forward to what happened once I had you tied up. But then...."

She sits back. Suddenly. A scowl on her face. "But then it was all just a contest." Emiko tuts. "Like a, fucking, dream, and I didn't get to play."

"I was frustrated too."
"Really?"
"Sure." I smile at her shock. "What? I'm not allowed to be into it?" Grabbing both of Emiko's wrists, dragging her back towards me, pinning them crossed on the table top between us. She gasps, feeling the pressure I'm using, forcing her to remain in place. "Maybe, I really wanted it to not be a contest too."

In truth, I've been doing this- porn -long enough now that I can largely cope with the unfulfilled aspect. The being tied up with no happy ending because the shoot didn't call for sex of any kind.

For me it just makes those times, like- I hope -tonight, where bondage does lead to sex, better.

"So." Letting go of Emiko's wrists, leaning across the table again, my face at the halfway point. "Tell me, pretty girl, what do you want?"
"I want," she's bold, finally, leaning across from her own side, bringing her face up against mine, lips almost touching, "to play."
"And what." Moving just that small bit closer, I kiss her, briefly, on the lips. "Do you want to play?"
"A tie up game." Emiko, smiling, reaches up to take my face between her hands, pulling me into a proper kiss.

She tastes, not surprisingly since she's been drinking it this past half hour, like strawberry milkshake.

[GreyLord]

Okay, Emiko is ready. I am ready. It's time to get this party started.

[RopeBunny]

Couldn't agree more

It (the tie up game) was meant to begin this chapter, but having written what you see above, I realised it would be best begun next time.

Which I'll be posting soon.

[GreyLord]

In your good time, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. In your good time.

[Caesar73]

Couldn't agree more

It (the tie up game) was meant to begin this chapter, but having written what you see above, I realised it would be best begun next time.

Which I'll be posting soon.

No need to rush things [mention]RopeBunny[/mention] - the Story does not go away and we will wait patiently - at least I will

[RopeBunny]

054.

"You know you're still wearing that silly crown, right?"
"You know you're still wearing that silly crown, right, your highness."

Emiko sticks her tongue out, making me laugh as we walk through the revolving doors, into the hotel. We've come straight here from Burger King. Well, not quite. Because on the way we found.

"Oh wow." Emiko stops, which I don't notice, walking on a half dozen paces, still talking about my old job: my mower, how good it felt to be out under an open sky, whatever the weather.

"What?" Having backtracked, I look around, spotting. "Oh." Nodding, my own smile matching hers. "Cool."
"Shall we?" Making let's go and after you style waving gestures with her arms. "I mean. It is still early. So...."
"So they'll be plenty of time to play tie up games after we hit up the arcade." I finish for her, nodding. "Sure. Let's go have some fun."

Used to be, as a kid, one of my favourite parts of family holidays. Mum- love you Mum -always managed to find a last minute deal every year, making sure she and I could spend a week someplace elsewhere, someplace not home. We usually stayed in static caravans, but wherever we went was always by the coast, which meant there was always at least one arcade nearby.

Emiko is very competitive. Not in a bad way, she isn't a sore loser- and she does lose around half the games we play, because I'm competitive too -but she, we both, play to win. Which only makes the two hours we spend in the arcade that much more fun.

She kicks my butt at table air hockey, decimating me twice in a row.

But I get revenge on the dance off machine. Although mostly that's due to my bouncing F cups- no sports bra, oops -clearly being far too distracting.

We both grin like idiots upon discovering an old Gauntlet machine tucked away in one corner. Emiko, getting her cash in quicker then me, steals the Valkyrie. Damn it. So as punishment I pick the Wizard, who's shit, and slow, forcing her to basically spend the whole game defending me whilst I waddle along, laughing.

"Here." Climbing onto the bike, a racing game, one where instead of joysticks you actually straddle a real sized- but plastic -bike. "Climb on behind me."
"Really?" Frowning. "Can you even ride?"
"Yes." I nod, one foot planted on the floor either side of the bike. "Come on."
"But is it built for both of us?"
"Who cares." Patting the seat. "Come on, where's your sense of fun."
"Okay." Grinning, shrugging, Emiko climbs on behind me, scooting up close to lean against me, her arms wrapping my waist.

"Go on then." Giving me a squeeze, her voice a tickle in my ear. "Show us how it's done."

Afterwards, still buzzing from my victory, still tingling from Emiko having been pressed into me, I put my arm around her as we walk back through the arcade, hugging her body close, our hips touching, my breasts squashing into her side.

She looks at me, as I pull her close, licks her lips, smiles.

Which only makes the tingles worse.

We play a horror themed shooting game, which I'm terrible at. I've never been very good at shooters involving aiming an actual gun. I wind up putting in three times the cash as Emiko, just to keep coming back so she isn't all alone in a mansion full of zombies.

Somehow, I manage to snare a cuddly toy in one of the grabber machines. Emiko squeals with delight when I hand it over, hugging me, making me smile.

We spend a fistful of dollars each playing over a half dozen versus matches on Street Fighter II, coming out about even for victories. Emiko's near unstoppable with Ryu, whilst I long ago mastered the boxer, Balrog.

We're back at the hotel around ten, the lobby, as we wander through, heading for my bank of lifts, is pretty deserted.

We haven't discussed who's room to go to, I'm simply taking the lead, choosing for us both, and Emiko certainly doesn't appear to be disagreeing.

"Sorry. Hold on." Called out, from behind us, but not at us surely? I jab the call button, Emiko stood beside me, cuddling the small pink spider I won her.

"Hold on. Um." Still shouted. I turn, curious. Oh. It's me, or Emiko, or us both, that are being called to, waved at, by the receptionist.

"Hi." Wandering over. "What's up?"
"Separate lifts." Pointing at each of us in turn, holding up a file with his other hand. "It's Boundcon staff only above nineteen."
"But." I frown. Surely I'm an adult, and can do whatever I want? "What if I want her to come?"

Beside me Emiko giggles, at my choice of words. I grin, tut, give her a small push which she isn't ready for. Then laugh as she stumbles a half dozen paces off to the right, only just managing to stay on her feet.

"Well." The receptionist, a young twenty something guy, frowns. "If you want this young lady to accompany you...?"
"I do."
"And." Turning his attention to Emiko. "If the young lady." Emiko giggles again, I smile, as does the receptionist. "If she wants to accompany you?"
"Please." Grinning, nodding, Emiko leans in close, sharing a secret with him. Whispering, but loudly enough that I can easily hear. "I'm going to tie her up."

"Indeed." A raised eyebrow, he smiles. Nods. "Well," attention back to me, Miss...."
"Plymouth."
"Plymouth." A nod. "You'll just have to sign this form first."
"Really?"

Really. There is an actual form, which both Emiko and me have to sign, before we're allowed back to the lifts.

"Are they afraid I'll kidnap you?"
"Or that I'll kidnap you." I shrug. "Fuck knows."

"Bigger then my room." Nodding, doing a lap. "Better view too."
"Yeah?"
"I'm on the other side," a grimace, "which means I get the morning sun full in my face. And." Shaking her head, tapping the glass. "I'm lower of course, eighth floor."
"Layout must be the same though?" Shrugging off my jacket, hanging it on the back of the door. I sit down on the armchair, getting to work on my boots. "Same furniture surely?"
"Nope." Called out from my ensuite. "Only a walk in shower for us non models."

Emerging from the bathroom, having shrugged off her hoodie, kicked off shoes, Emiko half smiles as I stand up.

"So."
"So." Feeling butterflies inside. Not nerves. Excitement. This, here, the start of.

Something.

"So." Emiko repeats, stuffing hands into her jeans butt pockets, rocking back and forth on the spot. "Do I...?"
"I mean." I grin. "Sure."

Except.

"Ah." I can't help but laugh. A literal bondage convention downstairs and. "We don't have any rope."
"No...." Emiko, looking at me. Puzzled. "But." Waving an arm, up then down. "Surely you've got...."
"Maybe?" I stand, tapping finger to lips as I mentally walk around around the room, pondering.

"Wait here."
"For...?"
"For me to come back silly."
"But?" Looking confused. "Where are you going?"
"Well." Grabbing my room key, stuffing it and my phone- which I'd just been using -into a butt pocket, I wink. "We need rope, right?"

"Plymouth."
"Thomas." I tut, but smile. "Stop smirking."
"Playtime is it?" The smirk, not vanishing, grows as Thomas hands over a Walmart carrier bag. "What's the lucky guys name?"
"Who says it's a guy?" Taking the bag I stick my tongue out. Thomas laughs, I join in.

"Have fun Plymouth." Called out as I walk away. I raise a hand, wave without looking back. "I will," called out over my shoulder, "thanks Thomas."

"Does Walmart have a bondage aisle?" Eying up the bag as I toss it onto the bed. "Or," pulling out a coiled length of rope, bouncing it up and down like a little marionette, "do you just know all the right people?"
"I just know the right people." I smile, putting key and phone on the desk.

And now we're back to facing off across the room, Emiko smiling, looking, prehaps, too nervous to take the lead.

"You know what."
"Um." Biting her lip, looking up from the rope she'd been staring at. "What?"
"The thing is." I grin, crossing the room, reaching up to tap my Burger King cardboard crown as I do. "It takes a King to do proper rope work." Grabbing a length of rope, shaking it out, I point at the bed. "Why don't you lay down, I've got this."
"Oh." Emiko's smile grows, shrinks, grows wider. Nerves battling with want on her face. She nods, lets out a breath, like a release of tension. Nods. "Okay. Brooke."
"King Brooke."
"Not going to call you that." Shaking her head, darting a hand forwards to tip the crown off my head.

"Hey."
"Well." A shrug. "You looked cute, but, silly too."
"Okay." Shaking my head, smiling, I put on my best royal voice. "Prehaps I won't see you hanged after all."
"Ha." Climbing up onto the bed, laying face down. "Just." A nod. "Tie me up already." A wink. "King Brooke."

"Tell me something." I'm sat on Emiko's jeans clad butt, straddling her with a leg either side, rope in hand. "Can you?"
"Sure." Turning her head to the side so she isn't talking into the duvet. "What?"
"I'd hate to go too far is all."
"Too far?" A pause. "Oh. With the ropes you mean?"
"With the ropes." Nodding. "Thing is, Em. Is Em okay?"
"Sure. Um. What should I...?"
"B." I shrug. "If you want. People that know me, Brooke not Plymouth, call me B."

"Thing is Em," looping a doubled up rope around her wrists, tugging, forcing them together side by side behind her, "I've had some pretty tight ropes put on me. So." Wrapping the rope around Emiko's wrists. "I'm. Probably. More likely to go off the deep end tying you. Um." Tie a knot. Tight. "Because that's what I'm used to. So...."
"You want," brief pause as Emiko wriggles her newly bound wrists, which, because I'm pretty good at ropework, remain tightly lashed together, "okay." Nodding. "You want to know if I've been tied up before? Whether I'm a noob or a pro. Crap like that?"

"Crap like that." I nod. Smile. "Basically." Looping a second rope around Emiko's elbows, just above- a spot most noobs would not want a rope placed -I, semi harshly, yank the loop closed, forcing Emiko's elbows together. "For a start. Is this too much?"
"Fuck." But she doesn't say it in a bad way, a curse, but not directed at me. "Fuck that's tight."
"Too tight?" Poised, having wrapped the rope around her elbows, I'm ready to either tie it off or let it go slack. "Or. Is it perfect?"

"It's perfect." Smiling, Emiko nods. "Go ahead, King B. Show me what you've got."

"Not," giving me an amused smile as I roll off, coming to lay beside her, "more rope?"
"Huh?" Stretching my body out, pointy toes, reaching fingers. It's fun to see Emiko's eyes tracking the length of me, roving across the hills of my enhanced F's, taking in my flat toned stomach and skimpy denim shorts clad crotch. "What's that?"
"Are we done?" Rolling onto her side, wriggling bound arms. "Is this all the rope I warrant?"
"Nah." Rolling onto my side too, facing her. "I just thought we could chat a moment first."
"Okay." A shrug. "Sure."

"Why Plymouth?"
"You mean my name?" Emiko nods. "Well." Thinking. "Have you ever been to England?"
"Nope."
"Well. Plymouth is a city down on the South Coast, place I spent several summers as a kid. Just me and Mum." I smile, at the happy memories. "Plus. You know." A shrug. "S' a cool name I reckon."
"I like it." Emiko stretches beside me, unintentionally- or not, nice -pushing her B cups at me for a moment.

"This." Patting the lighthouse on my upper left leg. "It's. Well." I grin. "Kinda my Plymouth tattoo."
"It is?"
"Yeah." Pulling off my left mesh pull up, running a finger over the design, tracing. "It's. Well." A tiny shake of the head. "There's a joke here too."
"There is?"

Shifting closer, to be helpful- and not at all because it puts my crotch in her face -I lift my leg up. Shift. Bringing the lighthouse into easier view.

Emiko frowns. "Where's the joke?"
"It's the lighthouse." Patting it, a tall building, narrowing as it rises, surrounded by cloud. "There's a famous lighthouse in Plymouth." I laugh, briefly. "It's on a place called The Hoe."

"It." Frowning. I shift back, back to a more normal side by side pose. Emiko opens her mouth, closes it. Frowns again. "Um." Shakes her head. "Nope. I don't get it?"
"No?" Should I explain? "Don't worry Em, it's. Well. It isn't important."

We lay in silence for a couple of minutes. Emiko stretches again, smiling, pushing those tee covered breasts at me. "Yeah?" I grin. "Inviting me in are you?"
"Just." Returning my smile. "Offering."

I have, a minute later, an idea. A thought.

"Help you?"
"No no." Having unbuckled her belt, popped the button, I'm now unzipping the fly on her jeans. "I've got this."
"Indeed." Smiling. "Well. Just." Hold on." Rolling onto her back, lifting her butt up off the bed, allowing the tight jeans to be pulled down her slender tan legs. Off over the ankles.

I toss them across the room.

"There."
"Happy?" Back on her side, shifting her bare legs. "Are you." A pause, she can, I can see, feel the difference. Emiko looks down, realising I've- cheeky -pulled her pink thong off at the same time. "Oh."
"Yeah." Reaching forward, running a finger left and right over her shaved pubic area. "It was getting in the way."
"The way." Having to stop, to wriggle, I can see she's both embarrassed by and enjoying what I'm doing. "The way of what?"
"Well." Moving my finger over, down, to her tattoo. "I want to see this, and...."
"And...?"
"And," I wink, "tie you up some more."

[GreyLord]

Great work, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. It is good to see Plymouth topping and good to see Emiko having fun as well. I am wondering, since they are so good together, will Emiko just be a short term partner?

[Caesar73]

That was a really nice update. The Fun, the Conversations - and the Bondage

[RopeBunny]

055.

It's a. "Racetrack?"
"It's Rainbow Road." Laid on her side, held there by my left hand, whilst my right traces the black design, the circuit, around a lap.

Centred on Emiko's left hip, the track runs in straights and right angled corners, up as far as- I lift her tee to peek -her bust, down to her thigh. It covers one butt cheek at the rear and nearly touches her pussy at the front.

It's a big track.

"Mario Kart." Nodding. "The original. I'd remember those bastard tight corners anywhere."
"Yeah." Shivering as my wandering fingers slide into then out of her butt crack. Taking a corner wide. "My Dad worked for Nintendo."
"No shit?"
"No shit." Smiling, nodding. "Still does, over in Kyoto."
"Which is...." conjuring a map, from memory. "Close to Osaka."
"Close enough." Nodding. "I grew up with Mario. Kirby." She laughs. "Apparently my first word was 'Kong.'"

"But." I've just had a thought, another thing remembered about Japan. The looks I, Lili too, used to draw. Because. "I thought tattoo's on girls were a big taboo?"
"Oh." Grinning. Looking embarrassed, but grinning. "They are. I got this done over here. In the US." Emiko laughs. "Dad won't be happy, when he sees, but." A shrug, as best her bound arms will allow. "Too late now."

"About damn time." Back on her stomach, legs together, already pinned by rope bound around her ankles, Emiko tuts in a playful over exaggerated way as I wrap more, just below the knee. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to tie a girl up."
"That sounds suspiciously like fighting talk?" I tease back. "And," pulling, knotting, moving on to above the knee, "I'm not sure that's a fight you should be picking, pretty Em."
"Well." Grunting as I pull a knot tight. "Got to say. B...."
"Yes...?" Shaking my head at the rather obvious baiting, leaving her statement hanging, making me ask.

"I mean." Fidgeting, looking like a cute worm as she wriggles her bound body left and right on the hotel bed, doing this whilst I'm busy wrapping and binding her upper thighs, making four ropes on her slim legs, plus the two on her not exactly muscular arms. "You said you were going to tie me up. But." Turning her head to look up at me, Emiko grins, sticks out her tongue. "So far. I'm not really seeing any actual ropework going on."

"Not seeing any...?" Speechless. Mouth open. Emiko giggles, wriggles some more.

"I mean." Rolling over onto her back, looking up at me. "Sure. There are some ropes on me. But." A shrug. "It, well...."
"Go on...?" Smiling, waiting for the playful barb she's got lined up, curious. "Do tell?"
"Well." Straining, her- what little she has -muscles pushing against my ropes. "It kinda feels like a something a noob would do."
"Yeah?" Picking up a rope, taking my time uncoiling it. She's going to, I'm going to make her- in a fun way of course -regret this teasing. "A noob huh?"
"To be honest it doesn't even feel that tight." Grinning. She wants me to retaliate. She's, I can see it in her eyes, waiting for me to pounce.

"How about now?" I ask, voice as causal as I can make it given my slowly climbing arousal at what I've done, at how Emiko looks. I lay back on the bed, stretch my arms out towards the ceiling. "Any actual ropework?"

The rope I had been holding is now on Emiko's crotch, wrapped around her waist above the hips, pulled tight to accentuate that skinny figure. The fun part had been feeding it between her legs, which are pressed and pinned tightly together. She'd tried really hard not to gasp, or moan, completely failing. And now there's a lovely, well placed, knot, pressed into Emiko's pussy, rubbing against her- if she's anything like me when tied up -gently throbbing clit.

And, just for good measure, I hogtied her too. Running a rope from ankles to elbows, leaning on Emiko's legs for extra leverage as I pulled the elbow threaded rope back towards me, forcing her limbs closer. Closer. Arching Emiko's back, lifting her tee clad chest off the bed.

"Well?" I prompt, rolling onto my side, scooting closer. Emiko's on her side too, facing me, breath coming shallow, small moans whenever she moves, because when she moves that crotch rope moves too. "Are we tied up now, do you think?"
"Maybe." Giving me a cheeky look. "Um...."
"I can always add more ropes." Reaching over her to grab one of the few remaining lengths. "I could." Tapping a finger, the rope held in that hands fist, against my cheek. Pretending to think. "Bind those cute breasts."
"Not my breasts." Shaking her head, faking worry. "Anything but my breasts that you," a quick grin, "still haven't even seen."

"Is that." Reaching across the small gap between us, grabbing the crotch rope. "Are you sassing me?"
"I'm." Closing her eyes, biting her lip as I, grinning, begin tugging on the rope, forcing that knot back and forth, up and down, in and out. "Oh fuck that's good."

Which ends the teasing, the sass and playful backchat, because Emiko quickly becomes too lost in the sensations I'm helping create to do much except surrender, and enjoy the ride.

Off comes her tee, and bra, tugged and yanked up over Emiko's head in a pause between kisses. Kissing which is frantic, full of need on both sides. Her breasts are small, like small hills next to my mountains. But they're perfect, rising slightly up off her slender body, topped by dark chocolate coloured nipples, already erect before I even reach for one, to carress, to rub gently. To tease.

Emiko gasps into my mouth, flexing her bound body, forgetting in the moment that, trussed up as she is, playtime is only for me. All she can do is lay on the bed, her body exposed and open to me, her mouth responsive to my kisses, sharing breath with me, her eyes closed as I tug on her crotch rope. Again. Again.

Again.

"Wha....?" Swimming up out of whatever deep well she's been down in. Blinking, focusing. Finding me grinning, no longer close, no longer within touching distance.

"But?" Mouth working. "You...?"

I shake my head. No. And pat the bed beside me. Teasing. Playing the game, the one where, for now at least, I'm winning, and Emiko, if she wants to have fun, must tow the line. Must come to me.

She comes.

Eyes on me, seeing me watching, knowing she's putting on a show, knowing I'm getting off on the sight of her, naked, tightly trussed, struggling and wriggling, moaning and grunting, slithering across the gap to reach me. Emiko comes, wanting more of my attention, willing to pay the toll in order to receive it.

There is nothing. Nothing. So sexy as a tightly rope tied girl struggling to reach you.

Her moans- having found me, at which point my enjoyment of her body recommenced -become pants, become moans. Her left foot, hanging in the air- because she's laid on her side -suddenly begins twitching, bouncing. She's losing control of herself, is no longer kissing me back.

I switch focus, my mouth moving to one of her perfectly pert B cups, sucking on her nipple whilst my hand squeezes the surrounding breast. And this whilst my other keeps up the rhythm on that crotch rope. Tugging. Tugging.

"Come for me." Whispered, in her ear. Tugging. Tugging. "Come for me. Now."

She orgasms. Body locking, for an instant, everything save that left foot freezing in place. I quit with the crotch rope, not wanting to ruin, spoil her moment.

Though the power to do so is mine. I could, easily.

But I don't.

"Wow." Body sagging against me, head resting, of all places, on my breasts as I hug her. Emiko breathes in, out. "Damn." I move back, the better to see her face, finding a grin there, one which I'm happy to mirror. She nods. "That was...."
"We aim to please." Coming in for a kiss, soft and gentle now, letting Emiko keep her buzz, letting her keep floating.

"Could you...." Stretching her naked body next to me, straining at my ropes. "Could you untie me, B? Please."
"Sure." Sitting up, rolling Emiko onto her stomach, getting to work. "Had enough?"
"Just want a cuddle," legs flopping down as I remove the hogtie rope, "is that okay?"
"Sure." Arm ropes off. Taking the opportunity to remove Emiko's tee and bra from where they've puddled at her elbows, tossing them away with the rope, off towards a corner. "Always got time for a cuddle."

"Still clothed?"
"That I am." Nodding, laid on my back, head on a pillow. Naked, Emiko is laid half ontop of me, left arm reaching to cup around my breast, left leg between my two slightly spread legs, her naked pussy resting half on half off my own denim shorts clad crotch. I wait. Is she going to make an issue of my lack of nakedness? Will she ask me to strip?

I. Kinda. Am liking this dynamic, her naked, me not.

Mind you I'd like it equally as much were our roles reversed. Which maybe they will be.

"Hmmm." Nodding, giving my breast a slight squeeze, not asking me to remove any clothes, Emiko scoots up the bed, bringing her head from my chest to the second pillow, keeping her body pressed on mine, her arm draped over my breasts, her leg between my two. "Just." Kissing my cheek. "So we're clear. This isn't the end of the tie up game."
"No?"
"No." Reaching up to stroke hair off my face, giving me a smile. "I'll be binding you in a little while B."
"That right?" Smiling back, enjoying the casual way she'd tossed that across. The easy confidence, her belief that, because she knows I'm into it, I won't protest.

She's right of course.

"Okay." I shrug. "Whenever you're ready."

"B?"
"Em?" We've been cuddling, in silence, for maybe five minutes. Time I've spent enjoying the feel of Emiko's weight pressing onto me, of her leg nestled between mine. Of her hand resting palm down and fingers spread on my clothed breast. Time I've spent tracing idle patterns up and down her back with my free arm. "What's up?"
"Why is one of the Kings black?"

"What?" Almost sitting up, the question- so far off to left field, catching me off guard. "One of the...?"
"On your jacket." Shifting, bringing her body up fully ontop of mine, both her legs now between my open ones, her arms crossed and resting above my breasts, Emiko looks down at me. Smiles. "Is it some kind of fashion PC thing?"
"What?"
"You know." Shaking her head. "Can't all be white, got to represent everyone and all that crap. PC." A shrug. "Way of the world these days huh."
"Oh. Right. Ha." Shaking my head. "No. It isn't PC."

"The Three Kings are a biker. Um." Gang. "Club. From England. The Kings are the original founder members. One black guy, two white guys."
"Oh." Thinking. Nodding. "Okay. Cool. So. Um. Why are you wearing the jacket then?"
"Because." Grinning. "I'm a member."
"You." Surprised. "Are?"
"I am." I laugh.

We kiss some more, after more time spent just laying, staring but not staring into each others eyes. Getting lost. Nice, slow kisses. Kisses full of passion.

Taking hold of her wrists, pinning them one handed behind Emiko's back. Using my legs to spread hers wide, pinning them there. Feeling the heat from her pussy even through the denim.

And. Switch.

Willingly. I let myself be stripped. Emiko sitting up, using her freed hands- because I let go -to remove my shorts and pants, my remaining mesh pull up. Then she comes for my vest top and bra, lifting both up over my head, tossing everything away across the room.

Her smile. Her face as she sees my enhanced F cups, bouncing back into shape right in front of her. "Wow." Whispered. I grin, reach up, pull her down onto me.

More kissing. But only until.

"Come on." Standing, holding out a hand, offering to pull me up off the bed. I take it, scooting forwards, letting my own legs and Emiko's arm bring me up to stand next to her.

"What?"
"Time for me to tie you up." Grinning, bending to snag a length of rope. Looking at me and smiling. "Ready?"

Always.

[GreyLord]

This sizzles, [mention]RopeBunny[/mention]. Great detailed descriptions, leaving with a minor cliffhanger wondering how Emiko is going to work Plymouth.

[RopeBunny]

leaving with a minor cliffhanger

I try to always end on some form of cliffhanger

[Caesar73]

leaving with a minor cliffhanger

I try to always end on some form of cliffhanger

And this is a nice one, the prospect of Emiko tying Plymouth up is something to look forward too

[RopeBunny]

056.

"Mmmffppf ffmmp."
"No no." Smiling, patting my cheek gently, Emiko shakes her head. "Decorations don't talk."

She's right, they don't. Paintings, sculpture, stuff like that. What it does is be still, and look pretty. And, what Emiko's done to me, I am definitely a decoration.

In my en suite, toilet at one end, sink the other. Against the long wall in between sits the bath, and, opposite the bath is the towel rack. Shiny metal, rectangular, running from floor to shoulder height, shorter then me but wider. A pole runs up each side, joined at bottom and top, plus over a half dozen places between, by short poles running horizontally between the two verticals. The point of course being that your towels are hung on these short cross poles, within easy reach.

But now the only thing on the towel rack is me.

Naked. I'm stood with my back pressed into the cool metal of the rack, bound in place by a whole lot of ropes. My legs are open, bound at the ankle, knee, and upper thighs, forced and held wide- wider then shoulder width, but not by much -apart. Arms are pinned, rope bound at wrist and elbow, down by my sides. Pinned away from my body.

My body has been lashed in place at the waist and chest, my F cups squeezed and separated by rope. There isn't a single part of me, save my head, that I can move. And a ballgag, which Emiko dug from the Walmart bag with a grin, is buckled in my mouth, preventing my talking to her anymore.

All the ropes, the various knots, are super tight. I felt each one, the rope rubbing and pinching, squeezing my limbs, robbing me of any significant movement. I'm trussed up tight, tight like I remember Emiko doing up on the main stage earlier. She knows her stuff, and clearly isn't messing around. No half measures, Emiko's playing for keeps.

The gag is tight too, straps digging into my jaw.

"Mmmffffffff mmmmmmmm." She's back, having wandered away, into my bedroom, empty Walmart bag in hand, a couple of minutes ago. Still naked Emiko comes to stand in front of me, a smile on her face. A smile which grows as I moan, straining my naked tattoo covered body against the ropes, muscles standing out with the effort but body held firm. Rigid.

I can't move.

"This," trailing a finger down between my breasts, not quite reaching my pussy before coming back up, "it suits you."
"Gfffmmmmgggg."
"All these ropes," placing a hand, cupping the bindings on my right thigh, fingers very close to my pussy, "helplessness looks good on you B."
"Fmmmffff gmmmmggghhh." She's stood very close, her eyes- dancing -looking into mine.

Drool bubbles up from one corner of my gag. Emiko leans in, licks my mouth clean.

"Ffmmmm mmmmm." She's still gripping my upper thigh, like a tease. Having her so close is making me very horny.

"Would you like me to take this off?" Tracing the outline of my ballgag with a finger. "For awhile anyway?"
"Mmffmmm ffgmmggm." I nod, and she does.

"You look good." Hands crossed under her small breasts, ballgag dangling from right fist, Emiko nods. "Sexy."
"It feels good."
"Does it feel tight?"
"Tight enough to keep me here." I admit. Emiko grins.

"Poor B." Voice, tone, gone playful. "Are you helpless?"
"Well." Is that the game? I smile back. "Little bit."
"Only a little helpless?" Trailing a finger around my right nipple, making me shiver. "Looks like more from here."
"Must be some other girl you're looking at."
"Yeah?" Stepping in close, other hand up to grab a handful of breast in each. Squeezing. Emiko grins as my eyes close. "Definitely helpless." Squeezing again, thumbs flicking my nipples, leaning in for a kiss. "And." Kissing me again. "Liking it too."

Stepping back, suddenly, grin turning mischievous. "Don't you?"

Honesty. Fuck it why not. No need to play all the time.

"I do." Trying to keep my voice level, normal. Not easy with Emiko playing my nipples like dials on an old fashioned radio. "It's." Breathe, shiver. "It's why I'm so good at this."
"At being tied up?"
"At porn."
"Takes a real pro does it." Grinning, bending her head down, taking my left nipple in her teeth. Biting. Hard enough to make me gasp, hard enough that my pussy flexes, signalling my desire. Coming back up, face to face. Emiko cheekily flicks the now tender peak atop my breast. "Must take, what." Reaching down, sliding two fingers inside me, easy given how aroused, how, wet, I already am. "Years of practice."

Whatever answer I had, whatever words I might've conjured up, I can't voice. Emiko knows her stuff, knows her way around a woman's body. One hand on my right breast, the other between my parted legs. Her mouth clamped over mine.

If I weren't lashed in place I'd most likely collapse onto the floor, in a puddle.

Of course after a minute or two my gag, discarded at our feet when she needed both hands to enjoy my naked body, is buckled back onto my face. Yanked tight with the ball pressed into my open, willing, mouth.

"Dive dive dive." Winking, holding her nose, swaying her body as though invisible currents press at her left and right, Emiko sinks to her knees before me. And. I've got just enough time to wonder at the point of her joke before.

Between my legs. Sudden wet firm pressure. Emiko's tongue, worming it's way into my pussy, licking, pressing, finding my clit like a homing missile.

I come hard. Loud. Easily. The tight ropes. The ballgag. My nakedness, my helplessness. Everything combines, even the relative unknown of Emiko herself, still mostly a stranger who- again -I've allowed to place me into an inescapable state.

You'd think I'd learn. Clive. Deborah. A short but notable list, in a list where- because the point is to count those who've abused the act of binding and gagging me, who've taken advantage -one is too many. You'd think by now I wouldn't let just anyone tie me up.

What can I say?

Yes. This, on some- many -levels, is quite dangerous. But. Fuck me it's fun.

My body drained. Spent. Emiko stands. Grins. "Yes." Nodding, planting small kisses on my gagged lips, between words. "You know. I can see what makes you such a pro now."

She steps back, turns, and begins to run a bath.

Which- of course, silly, I forgot all about being a decoration -she climbs into alone, leaving my naked trussed up body as. Well. As a pretty thing to look at basically.

She spends quite some time, although I've no clock to mark the passing accurately, soaking in bubble filled warmth. Looking over at me often, smiling. Emiko doesn't speak, doesn't tease or taunt: beyond the basic point of look how comfortable and relaxed I am, compared to how helpless you are.

None of which I mind. Yes, the bath looks cosy. Yes, I'd love to be in there too, or even in there whilst she stands as bound decoration.

Does my bathroom, at home, have one of these racks? And if not can I get one?

But, as I've repeatedly mentioned, I like being bound. Tight. I like the ropes, the gags. I love, above all other things sex, to be helpless and used.

Or, if not, then I love to be using someone else's helpless body.

Don't you think that sounds just.

The best.

"Want to join me?" No teasing, she's sat up, facing me, face making it an honest no strings question. "A nice soak before we play some more, B?"
"Mmgmmffff fffffpfmm." I nod. Yes, I'd love a bath. Yes, I'd love to play some more.

"Excellent." Climbing from the tub, dripping soapy water and bubbles across the tiled floor, Emiko crosses the space between us. Frees me.

We share the bath, which despite how long Emiko spent soaking is still warm, bubble filled, and very cosy. Like a hug wrapped up in a blanket of summer sun. She climbs in first, leaning back with legs spread, giving me room to sit in front, my body resting back on hers.

"Thought you could use a soak after that."
"I could." Sighing. Emiko's holding a soaked sponge above me, over my chest, squeezing it, allowing the soap filled smooth hot water to cascade down, running over me.

Eyes closed, relaxed, feeling Emiko's body against mine, her small breasts pressed into my back.

This. This is nice. The attention.

And then the hotel fire alarm goes off, it's shrill tones invading the calm.

Emiko dresses, we both do, not bothering to dry properly. Because, if it- the alarm -is real, then speed is key. Out of my room, along corridors, down the central stairway, becoming busier as we descend, picking up people from the lower floors, everyone heading outside.

Where we get separated by the hotel staff, following protocols, organising guests by floor, doing headcounts and marking names against printed lists. I quickly lose sight of Emiko, don't, in all the bustle, even really get a chance at a goodbye.

And of course, when the crisis- a false alarm, a faulty detector I hear some of the staff mutter -is over, and we're allowed back inside, she's already gone. Shepherded back up to the eighth floor.

What's worse is. "Ha." Back in my own room, staring out of the window, phone in hand, I shake my head. Because. "I never even thought to ask for your number."

I had so many questions still to ask.

I, we, had so many tie up games left to play.

[GreyLord]

Tragedy! How will Plymouth make contact? Or will Emiko solve the problem for her? Or will this be forever a lost opportunity?

[tickletied84]

Am just relieved the fire alarm didn't come an hour earlier! Although given the nature of the convention I'm sure it could have been managed well!

[RopeBunny]

057.

"And, lastly, arguing in favour of ballgags. Plymouth."

Day two, close enough to midday to start saying good afternoon, and I'm fulfilling my single Boundcon obligation for today: a discussion panel.

A Mesh dress, that's what I decided upon going though my clothes post early morning gym session. A very tight dress with a green camouflage print. It's got a high, tee style, neckline, no sleeves, and only just covers my butt. Underneath I'm wearing a very skimpy white thong and- shock and scandel, grin -no bra. The dress is made of stretchy fabric, so it hugs my every curve, showing my body off.

These panels- this is one of several scheduled throughout the three days -are meant to be a bit of fun. Three models each time, given a subject. A bondage subject of course. To debate. Each model tasked with championing a different angle.

This panel is all about gags. Ball versus tape versus cleave.

Willow is the pro tape model. A big girl, prehaps a size twenty, with an impressively large pair of breasts- G cups -to accompany her big belly and thick limbs. Like me she's in a dress. Straps leading to a plunging neckline, barely containing those assets, the dress is stretchy like mine, a lace flower pattern front and back hugging Willow's plus size figure. Down both sides, from armpit to butt- because her dress is criminally short too -run crisscross laces holding the front and back together.

The whole outfit is white, paired with a white thong. Like me Willow is braless.

Both Willow and the third girl, Dusty, have brown hair. Willow's is short, curling, never quite Reaching her shoulders. Dusty's hair is longer but tied up in a loose tail with black leather cord. The tail is set high, so her hair comes up, then cascades down, fanning out across the back of her head.

Where Willow's skin is pale, and mine what you might consider a normal level of tanned, from repeated summer's spent outdoors, Dusty's is darker. Hers is the tan of desert living, the baked dark skin of someone who lives with year round sun.

Hers is a more normal body type, curvy without being fat or thin. Breasts a C or D, naturally pert, nestled inside the dark blue triangles of her tie side bikini top. Skintight shiny black leggings, latex wet look style, hug Dusty's legs.

Other then me, my left side almost completely covered, only Willow is tattooed: some kind of colourful fish and water inspired sleeve fills her right arm.

The Three of us are sat, me on the far left, then Willow, and Dusty on the right, on fold out metal framed chairs, across the centre of the main stage. Next to Dusty a desk is set up, behind which sits Hank, the announcer for these panels.

It's also Hank's job to decide, afterwards, which argument, which model, has won.

"Okay ladies." I, trying to focus, to tear my wandering thoughts away from Emiko, who I haven't seen yet, who I- somehow -will track down today, sit up. Pay attention. Hank smiles across at us. "Let's hear some opening statements. Starting with." Looking down, back up. Hank smiles. Points.

At.

Me.

Fuck.

"Plymouth." Shit. What do I do? Stand up? Stay put? I, prehaps foolishly, haven't watched any of the previous panels. I don't know exactly what's required of me, other then to put forwards a case for why ballgags rule.

What do I do?

"Right." Coming up off my seat, like a bounce, smiling. I'll just have to wing it. "Do I...." Thinking out loud, glancing across to the contest bins in one corner of the stage. Should I get an actual ballgag?

Nah.

"So." Stood centre stage, close to the edge, blinded by the overhead spots to the point all I can see is a massed shadow of people. No features, just the shape of the crowd.

"Good thing I'm not nervous." I laugh. A scattering of laughter, a couple of whistles, drifts back.

"Why do ballgags win?" Slowly walking left to right, back. A trick I remember hearing about: that you moving somehow helps maintain interest from your audience.

"Every gag does the job." Shrug. "Does it well. But. Ballgags just, do it better."

"You can't lock on a cleave gag. Nor will tape fill your mouth, not like a ball." I should've grabbed one, I could, wave it or something. I frown, then cover it with a smile. "And there's just something hardcore, something. Proper. About how they fasten. No knots. No." Murmers from in front. Agreeing? I hope so. "Wrapping and wrapping." I smile, making it a joke, miming the action with my hands. "And wrapping." Scattering of laughter. I nod. Happy.

"Think about it." Tapping the side of my head with one finger. "Think about that time you tied someone up, or were tied up. Or that amazing image you found online." I stop, centre stage, hold both arms out. "Wasn't it a ballgag you saw? Or," wink, "didn't you wish it had been?"

I do a little bow, the crowd claps, whistles. I stand straight, grin, return to my seat.

"Great speech." Willow, grinning, being a sarcastic problem. "I mean." Leaning over to me, as I sit. "Is it even worth Dusty and me getting up?"
"Don't be a." Bitch. "Problem." Sticking my tongue out, because I can tell she's only teasing, in the spirit of fun. "They're clapping."
"Because you're finished." Dusty, grinning too, joining in. I flip her off, laughing as she gives me the finger back.

For all their teasing, Willow and Dusty's opening speeches are no longer then mine. I've a feeling these panels are less about actually finding a winner, more an excuse to get a handful of barely clothed models up in front of everyone, talking about being tied up.

Can't see a problem with that.

"Plymouth." Hanks voice, my name, shakes me out of yet another- she's definitely a distraction -Emiko centred eyes open daydream. I look over, he smiles back. "Tell me." Glancing down, at his desk. At a sheet of scribble filled paper on his desk. "Cleave and tape both offer the opportunity for mouth stuffing first. But," Shaking his head, "not a ballgag. Doesn't that make the other choices better?"

"It...." Crap. I, really, should've watched one of these. I'm not ready for random questions.

But I can think fast, sometimes.

"Thing is." I stay sat down, something about a Q and A, some old memory of a video I once saw, a panel of people answering questions. They all remained seating. "The ball is the stuffing here, it's just already attached to the gags bindings." I smile. "Like an all in one. So. Really." Look right, Dusty sticks her tongue out, I blow her a kiss. "Doesn't that actually make the ballgag better?"

"An all in one huh?" Smiling, nodding and thoughtful, Hank scribbles notes.

And around we go. Like quickfire questions. One each for Dusty and Willow, back to me. And then.

The other two begin arguing a point- something about which gag, tape or cleave, offers more colour variety -amongst themselves. Willow's back turned on me, shutting me out.

At which point I have a cunning plan.

Dusty, her back to the storage bins, inside which all the various ropes and so forth for the four times daily contests are stored, doesn't see what I'm doing. Which prehaps means I should pick on her, but, for no reason I can easily name, I decide to target Willow.

Hank sees me, casually standing, walking around behind the chairs, over to the bins. He gives me a questioning look, to which I shake my head, put a finger to my lips. Hoping he'll cut me the slack to run with this crazy idea.

Which, with a nod, he does.

By the time I've grabbed up rope, and of course a ballgag, the audience is murmuring. I can see vague pointing and gesturing of arms behind the overhead lights gleam. Keeping my stuff grasped in one hand, I shush towards the crowd, receiving a small scattering of quiet laughter back.

I can't do this without Willow's permission however. I mean, I can. I can try to get the jump on her, can hope I'm stronger, faster. Can hope I get enough ropes on her before she fights back.

But it'd be easier if I have permission.

And, because of this fact, returning towards the three chairs, passed Hank, I deliberately slow down for the four or five paces I'm behind Dusty- facing sideways too, her and Willow locking gazes. This puts me, for a brief moment, directly in Willow's sightline.

Luckily she sees me. I see, watching, her gaze quickly track up, across me, taking in my half smiling question, the ropes and ballgag bundled in one hand. She frowns, not understanding, then grins. Nods.

Just one nod, a small nod. A private yes, just for me. Acknowledgement and permission for my plan, which, though she can't know the specifics, the gist isn't hard to figure out.

"Yellow."
"And black.' Willow, nodding and grinning, continuing to somehow keep up with Dusty and the colour's she keeps naming.

"And black?" Eyebrow raised, I move passed Dusty, walking a wide arc towards the back of Willow's chair. "Striped tape?" Dusty tuts. "Really?"
"The hazard stuff."
"But that isn't even...." Shaking her head. "Fine. Um. Green"
"Christmas tape."
"Bollocks."

Laughter. Dusty smiles, squints. Must be she notices the shadowed hand gestures coming from the crowd. She turns, looks, sees me stood behind Willow's chair, armful of ropes, big grin on my face.

"Oh." Her mouth forms a perfect circle. "But."
"Shhhhh." Finger to lips, too loud. Easily loud enough for Willow- already in on the plan anyway -to hear.

More laughter.

"Shhhh." Dusty now, playing along, taking what's clearly fast becoming some kind of comedy sketch and rolling with it. Turned to the left her shush is directed at the audience. "Quiet." Loudly whispered, whilst behind Willow I put finger to lips again, making a shhhhh of my own. "Shush." Dusty too loudly tells the audience. "Or you'll spoil Plymouth's secret plan."

The crowd laughs. I shake my head. Willow grins and Dusty shrugs.

Fuck it. I make my move.

Dusty helps. Once I've strapped the ballgag on Willow she gets up, takes rope off the floor where I dumped the coiled lengths, and gets to work on the larger girls legs. Dusty binds them at the ankles, spread apart to separate front chair legs down near the floor. Nothing flash, nothing fancy. But it'll still keep Willow seated until somebody decides otherwise.

Willow's arms I tie at the wrists, crossed, looping and wrapping my excess rope around her waist. Because the chair back consists of a single wide strip of metal: the whole chair is metal, something you fold open, she's now caught in place by her wrists too. Even if she could stand, shake off her ankle ropes, the chair back would be caught between her back and her arms.

Glancing up, I see Dusty walking away. But I'm not done yet.

It takes two ropes to bind her chest, prehaps due to Willow not being on the skinny side. However. Got to say. She looks amazing once I'm done. The first rope I use up on loops above and below those G cups, wrapping and squeezing. The second I work over each shoulder, down between her breasts, back up. For effect mostly, and because I can.

Because Willow, a good sport, is letting me.

Standing up, and, suddenly, here's Dusty beside me, bright pink scarf in hand, which she wraps and ties atop the ballgag I placed earlier.

The overall effect, the message here, being that ball and cleave win.

A tie.

Or.

Dusty and me. Stood, side by side, prehaps she can't see the leftover rope: three still coiled lengths down behind her feet. But I do.

Do I want another fight?

Would she let me?

Ah. Fuck it. Enough. Grinning, I nod. "Good work Dusty." Holding up one hand, palm flat towards her.

"Victory." Grinning back, high fiving me, whilst off to the side I hear clapping. Hank.

"Well done." Nodding, making notes. "Ladies." Hank seesaws a hand. "Slightly unconventional there, but. It would appear ballgags and cleave gags share the win here." Turning his attention to Willow. "Any thoughts?"
"Mmffppff mmmmmmmm." Rolling her eyes, wriggling, G cups bouncing, almost popping out of that way too low cut dress, Willow shakes her head.

And that's it. All done.

We all pose. Dusty and me flanking a still chair bound Willow. Then we free her, and all head backstage.

"Not mad," nervous, because, well, it wasn't in the script, and maybe Willow really badly wanted to win, "are you?"
"Fuck no." Laughing, coming over to give me a hug. "Funniest tie up I've ever had."
"Okay." Letting myself smile now, hugging her back. "Thanks for. Um...."
"For letting you tie me up?"
"Yeah." I laugh. "Thanks."
"Anytime."

We all hug, and I leave the other two talking. Something about dinner?

The main stage is, of course, back against one wall of the hall it occupies. So backstage is technically like a room tacked onto the main hall, reached either through the curtain at the back of the stage, or via a door, marked 'Staff Only', next to the stage on the right hand side.

Sometimes, I've been told. Warned. Except it isn't really a warning, because there's no danger attached. But. Sometimes, fans will wait beside the door, after, in hopes of a quick selfie. Not too many, that etiquette again, but maybe a dozen people could be waiting.

So I come out the door smiling, happy anyway. I sign eight programmes, making sure to scribble Plymouth, not Brooke, in flowing script. I pose for ten selfies: a group of middle aged guys, a young couple, three guys each wanting to hold their phones one handed, true self shot style, hugging me one armed whilst the phone is held straight out in front of us.

I wave them all off, still smiling.

Feel a tap at my shoulder.

"Hmmm?" Turning. "Help y...? Oh"
"Well? Um." Emiko, smiling nervously. "Hi."

[Rdo4y8]

The detail and scene building you put into your stories never fails to disappoint. I can really picture the entire scene in my mind because of that attention to detail.

[RopeBunny]

The detail and scene building you put into your stories never fails to disappoint.

Thank you.

I find it makes the story more enjoyable to write if I add detail, fleshing things (locations, backstories) out.

[GreyLord]

I find it makes the story more enjoyable to write if I add detail, fleshing things (locations, backstories) out.

Enjoyable to write, enjoyable to read.

[Bandit666]

Well what a great set of updates I’ve found awaiting me upon my return. And now hopefully I won’t have to suffer too long before discovering how long it takes Plymouth and Emiko to pick up where they left off before the ill timed fire alarm

[RopeBunny]

Well what a great set of updates I’ve found awaiting me upon my return.

Thanks

It looks like you chose a good time/spot to return, as yes, Plymouth and Emiko picks back up as of the next chapter (which I shall be possting soon)

[RopeBunny]

058.

She's wearing a dress, though more sensible than mine. Tee style sleeves and a wide, plunging v style neckline, created due to the dress being of a kind that wraps around a girls figure, one side placed against skin, the other tugged over the top, tied closed around the waist by some method or other.

The dress is pale blue, and hugged tight around Emiko's B cups by a black lace up underbust corset, below which the dress flares out, falling to knee height. The first time she turns around I discover a large moth print, in dark blue and black silhouette, from shoulder to shoulder across the back. The moths large globe like eyes are a dark red.

On her feet are classic black converse high tops.

"No shoes?"
"Don't need them." We, the models, never leave the hotel and arena complex, never go outdoors save for the terrace. Which is a roof, and paved mostly anyway. Beside which it's. "Part of the dress code." I shrug. "No clue why."

"Are you busy?"
"Right now?" Emiko nods. "No." Seeing her smile, I smile back. "I'm all done up on stage. Why?"
"Can I buy you lunch," pointing up at the ceiling, "on the terrace?"
"Sounds great." I mean, etiquette says she isn't supposed to be too close, but, if I don't mind, then surely it's okay?

"You live in Osaka, so." Pausing, taking a bite of my blueberry muffin. "Are you here, in the US, just for Boundcon? Or," thinking of her tattoo, which she really isn't going to please her parents by bringing home, "what?"
"I'm." Biting into her own, iced and fruit filled, cake. "In the US long term."
"Meaning?"
"College." A gesture, waved hand. "Hopefully leading to work."
"You want to stay then?"
"I don't want to go back."

"Oh." It isn't, on some levels, the same thing. "I." What do I say? "I. Well." Small smile. "I quite liked Japan, when I visited."
"Japan's beautiful." Returning my smile. Nodding. "But, my parents...." Trailing off, shaking her head.

I grimace, deciding not to push the subject. It doesn't matter. I barely know Emiko as it is, we aren't exactly dating or anything, so there's no need to push for details on a clearly troubling- for her -subject.

But whilst I'm taking another bite of muffin, a drink of orange juice, she carries on anyway.

"They aren't bad people." Staring at the floor. "But they're old fashioned." Looking back up. "Strict." Emiko laughs without humour, pats her side, the tattoo under her dress. "This. It's kind of a promise, to myself. I want to be me. Not who they think I should be."
"You don't think," playing devil's advocate, though fuck knows why, "that they'd be happy if you're happy?"
"Not considering how they took the news I preferred sleeping with girls."

Said half cheeky, with a grin, reaching down and to the side, towards me where I sit, sharing the bench. Nervously- like darting in and out - Emiko brushes a hand over my knee. She's, I realise, trying to lighten the mood. So I grin too, reach across the gap myself, advancing as she retreats, lifting a hand to brush stray hair off her pretty face.

"B." Voice dropped, sounding far off, quieter like a whisper. "Um."
"I missed you last night Em." Still resting one hand on her cheek. "And." Pivoting, turning my body to the side, towards her, I lean in.

"You can say no. But." My other hand finds her knee, and, slowly, moves higher, sliding under Emiko's dress, higher still, all to way up until I feel the tips of my fingers brush against soft cotton. She gasps, I bring my face close too, my upper body leaning towards her, breasts hanging like ripe fruit, offering.

"I." Blowing air softly between her parted lips. Emiko shivers. "Want to kiss you." Looking her in the eyes. "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes." Like breathing out, the barest nod. "I missed you too. B."

Wordlessly. I take her hand, leading her out of the terrace, leaving our food half eaten. Not caring.

Wordlessly. Emiko stands, watches, as I. Daring. Bold. Taking chances, rifle through the contest bins up on the deserted main stage, stuffing what I find, what I choose, to supplement what Thomas gave last night, into a black bin bag I found backstage.

Wordlessly. We walk together through the lobby, somehow catching the reception desk at shift change, standing momentarily empty.

Wordlessly. In the lift, my lift. As the doors close Emiko reaches out, takes the bag from me. Lifting out a ballgag she seizes control, which, without a fight, I surrender. As we rise smoothly, numbers slowly dialing upwards, Emiko buckles the gag on, over my hair, before lifting, removing my dress, pulling down my thong.

By the time the lift pings, doors sliding open, both my wrists and elbows are bound together, side by side, behind me. Wrapped in rope, confirming Emiko's dominance over me, for now of course.

The two minute walk from lift to my room seems to take a half hour, at least. My whole body is on fire, tingling with the adrenaline rush, with the sheer arousal, of what's being done to me. This isn't a video, it isn't a shoot. I am.

Naked.

In- yes, everyone on this floor is a porn star but still, I'm in -public.

And I'm tied up. Gagged. With a smiling- nervously, but it's still a smile -Emiko beside me, I am clearly hers. I am very obviously the naked helpless slave. Really, all that's missing is a collar and leash.

Which. Thinking such. Has me picturing this walk, but being led. And. Fuck me that would've been even more amazing.

At any moment, around any corner or from any of the many doors we pass, someone could come. And I'd be seen. They would see me.

My naked, trussed, gagged, body. My F cups, gently bouncing with each step. My pussy, shaved, wet, tingling. Begging for attention.

I. For a handful of steps. Entertain the daydream of being spotted by one of the female riggers I know are in attendance at Boundcon, girls who only ever tie, are never themselves helpless. I imagine a smile, I picture nervous Emiko, not up to the challenge, being instead stripped and bound next to me, the two of us taken. Somewhere. Tied, well, a half dozen possibilities flash flicker through my hyper aroused brain.

And then, suddenly, here we are, at my rooms door.

"I'm going to make you my little rope bitch." Breathing the words onto my gag spread lips, her body pressed up against mine, pinning me back against the wall just inside my room, Emiko has both hands on my breasts, squeezing an F cup in each palm. "Understand?" Rubbing herself up and down, her dress clad crotch teasing, grinding into my naked pussy. "Are you ready to surrender?"
"Mmmffmm mmmmmmm." I manage to moan back, legs not entirely solid beneath me.

It's only a game. It's only a game. It's only a game.

But. Fuck. She's hitting my sweet spot, my love of being the helpless bound victim. It is, only a game. Emiko, I've no doubt, will let me go, won't do anything unreasonable to me here, in my room. Knowing all of this, feeling happy, safe. I can kick back, enjoy the ride.

"Say it." She's yanked my gag loose, left it hooked loosely around my neck. Hands are back on my breasts, thumbs flicking nipples. "Tell me." Lips brushing mine as she talks, a husky accented whisper that exposes how turned on by the game she is. Emiko kisses me. "Say it."

"I." Breathe, try to. She's still got me pressed back against the wall, is still dry humping me. "Yes." Biting my lips, eyes closed. Open. "I surrender."
"Good." Kissing me. "And what are you?"
"I'm." Another kiss. I swear I'll orgasm just from this soon. My helpless state, Emiko's constant grinding and squeezing of my body. Combined with the very kinky words we're exchanging. I swallow. "I'm a rope bitch."

"Going." Still grinding, hands still squeezing. "To tie you up now."
"Yes." Breathless.

"Tight."
"Yes."
"Like it tight." Kissing me. With a jolt, though I can't move, am still pinned in place, I feel fingers slide inside me, flicking at my swollen clit. "Don't you?"
"Yes." Biting my lip, feeling my body beginning to spasm, the urge to let go, to orgasm, is suddenly rushing towards me. Every part of me wants to shake, there's that much adrenaline coursing through me, but I can't move.

"Aaahhhhhhh." Bouncing up and down, feeling Emiko's lips clamped over mine, sucking away my air, her hand playing my clit like a guitar speedrun. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck."
"Cum for me." Echoing my own words to her, last night. Whispered in my ear, filling my world. "Be a good little rope bitch and cum. Before I truss you up into a tight, squeezing, hogtie."

And, like a good rope bitch, I do.

After, still riding the high, way way up on clud nine. Floating. I barely notice or register what she's doing to me.

Taste of rubber, the ballgag, strapped back in place.

Pinch of ropes, all over my F cups. Above. Below. Between. Even wrapping the base of each figure eight style.

Rope biting at my pussy, sliding between the lips, pressing against my tender clit. The same rope wedged up in my butt crack, pinching my waist.

Legs, pinned together in what, vaguely- floating, remember -feels like a half dozen separate places. From ankles to upper thighs.

Cool sheets against my belly, against my face. The relaxed sensations this should inspire never materialise though. Instead. Upper body, rope bound tender breasts, tugged up off the comfortable mattress, cranked up, up. Feeling, though in a detached way, my body being forced into a tight unforgiving arch. Feeling my legs pulled back around behind me, my ankles seeking out my elbows.

Tighter.

Tighter.

And. Stop. A brief, tiny, slackening, no more then an inch, and then I'm locked in place.

Lastly. Head pulled back, up, no longer looking down, something is wrapped and tied into my long blue hair, forcing my head to remain raised.

I'm touched, handled, pulled and twisted. No more. Left alone, bent into this tight pose, held in place.

Slowly. I return to myself. The high of my orgasm, maintained by the arousal I felt as Emiko tied me up, fades. Dissappearing enough that I regain awareness, control.

I am, of course, laid on my hotel bed, laid on my side, facing the armchair that sits next to my window. Sat in the armchair is Emiko, arms resting on the chairs arms, leaning back. The little tease has her legs spread wide apart, gifting me a near perfect view up her dress, the dark shadow of her cotton pants- hipster boyshorts I think -just about visible.

"Welcome back," smiling over at me, "rope bitch."
"Mmmfff ggggppfffmm."
"How's the hogtie?"
"Fffmm gggggffpp." Wriggling, bouncing my body on the springy mattress. Movement which, of course, sets my crotch rope to rubbing against my clit, sets my tender nipples brushing at the sheets. I stop, close my eyes for a moment. "Ffffmmmmmmffgg."
"Tight." Nodding. "Good."

"Here's the deal." Mesmerised, I watch Emiko slip one hand up inside her dress, peel off her pants, toss them onto the bed. "Listening," quirk of a smile, "rope bitch?"
"Mmmmmmmmmmmm." All I can do is moan. Part arousal, at my state, at her pants, which have landed so close to my face I can smell Emiko's pussy now. Part frustration, because I want a fuck, or to be fucked, and clearly I'm not getting either. "Ggmmmppp mmfmfff ffffggggmmm." I moan again, wriggling some more.

"Right." Reaching back under her dress, I see her hand, her fingers, brush up against her pussy lips. "The plan is." Spreading her legs wider, nestling down into the chair to do so, giving me a better view. "I'm." Teasing herself, gentle tracing up and down her lips. Like a promise. "Going to tell you a story. And you." Blowing me a kiss. "Rope bitch. You're going to listen."

[TightsBound]

Oh my. I love Emilio can be so cute and sweet one minute and downright oh-my-god-I-need-a-cold-shower-after-reading-that sexy the next. You’re good at making me wish I was in Plymouth’s position. And now I’m curious what the story will be!