The Bondage Model (F/F, some M/F) - Story 11 Chapter 1
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A eked out a narrow victory in this poll. I am experimenting with sneak previews to give a taste of what is to come in the next chapter.
Story 10 Chapter 1: The True Meaning of Friendship
Over the course of the weeks, I had been in contact with Minnesota Tech in every way I could possibly find. I became obsessed with attending there, and Michela had a similar quest on which she had embarked. We now knew our dreams, and our hearts were aligned in this dream. We’d survived the juvenile detention system, and we wanted to make sure juvenile crime rates went down, the number sentenced decreased, and that those who were sentenced had better outcomes.
April 11, 2015
Can we meet for a coffee before the shoot? Just us. the text from Kendra read.
How about now? I’ll bring you to the shoot, but I have Best Buy afterwards.
Thanks. I’ll see U at the D ‘n’ D.
What’s up? Let me know so I can think about it. I asked again but got no response.
Kendra did it all her way. Maybe that’s why I loved her. Even though it was Kendra’s way or the highway, she was willing to listen and change her ways. Sometimes she plunged headlong into danger, like with an experience about which she was going to tell me in 30 minutes, but it was with a healthy spirit of adventure too. She wasn’t so stupid as to recklessly speed or mix dangerous household cleaners, but she’d shamelessly try to knead a loaf of bread in a way that ensured it came out tough (or outright change the recipe) or get that item off the menu that you promised her she would absolutely detest.
Good or bad, Kendra only gave news in person and only engaged in serious conversations face to face. Wanting coffee with me could just as easily mean she was annoyed with Mary-Ann as she was wanting to shoot the breeze. You didn’t know until she opened her lips; Kendra cut straight to business when it was serious so that the idle chatter came after. When I entered the D ‘n’ D, I saw Kendra already sitting at a table with two coffees and a bag of donuts. I couldn’t miss her as she’d worn a bandana to be obvious; today’s kerchief was a bright yellow, and she had blue jeans shorts with a black t-shirt. Of course, her hair was in a messy bun too.
“Did you know Mary-Ann sometimes cries herself to sleep?” she asked me as I sat down.
“No!” I took the warm coffee in my hands, “That’s so sad.”
“Last night we fell asleep on the sofa with her whimpering in my chest.”
“Why?” I asked in shock, “I can’t picture her being the one crying on you.”
“Mary laughs off her childhood, but it’s all a big coping mechanism. She thinks if she makes a joke of it then it’s not really so bad. You, me, and Kylie made bad choices as if we were invincible and paid the price. Michela, Mary, and Ashley never did a thing to deserve what happened to them, but Mary was forcibly taken from her family.”
“At least she has cousins; I’m the only child of two only children. Just as rejected though. Ironic, the three Roman Catholics were the good girls who each ended up as abuse victims and got long stretches for acting out against the abuse.”
“Hey! I was raised religious until I was 12! Anyway,” Kendra grumbled, “Today is Mary’s birthday. I thought after the scene we could take her out to lunch.”
“Sounds good. How’s it been working for Nabber Cellar too?”
“That’s the funny side of life, in a gross way.”
Kendra explained how Nabber Cellar had three general demands of any model: accepting of tight bondage, willing to be fully naked, and tolerating awkward bondage positions. In three scenes, she'd been hogtied naked, tied over a barstool and vibrated, and tied in a predicament where the choices were pushing herself up and down a dildo or yanking on nasty tit clamps. M.A. had handled even worse, but the folks who ran it were honest, appreciated limits, and paid fairly. They had fun together and got paid for it!
When Kendra talked about her adventures and life with M.A., even the sad stuff like M.A. crying herself to sleep, I saw a passion in her eyes. She loved M.A. as a best friend, and she hadn’t ever experienced friendship like that. This was just what she needed to take control of her life. Gone was the traumatized girl of juvie. Kendra Penelope Kristensen was a rejuvenated girl, and never again would the junkie of the past return. You could say Kendra was the first of us to adjust to life after juvie and put the past in the past. This doesn’t mean we didn’t reminisce; it just meant she could talk about it without reliving the trauma.
“Hannah, I really think you ought to go to Minnesota Tech. You’re doing better, but if you went there I think you could do your best,” she was candid, “We want the best for you.”
“Why did our parents stop loving us?” I asked her with that wording on purpose.
“I don’t know. Like, I know my little sister is big and athletic and smart, but that shouldn’t mean I can’t be loved. I went the way I did to escape, and then I discovered that the other junkies were just as neglected as me. At the time, I was too proud to be better friends with you because I was a senior and you were a junior. I don’t really give a sh-t, Larsson. I went home and told each of my family members that I was sorry I’d brought them shame, and they responded by beating the hell out of me so badly I was in bed for a week from the bruises. I remember you coming into the classroom the next day and muttering something about apologizing and getting no response. We did what we could; f-ck ‘em! I have you girls, and I have Ross!”
“That’s a healthy approach, in a way. Don’t hate them, but don’t think about them either.”
“Now, another thing, I had fun when you tied me and Jenny like that, but I reiterate I do not like TUGs like you girls do. For a special moment, fine, but I demand consent if I’m getting tied. I let it happen though for Jenny. That twirp has always adored me most of all the cousins, probably because of the resemblance. Being a Cool Girl must be an honor if Jenny is one.”
“Kenny, thanks for buying and for opening up a little. I know it’s hard for you. Let’s go.”
Kendra shrugged as if it were just business as usual, but underneath was a sly smile. She loved it in her own way. There was a very special girl underneath that gruff personality, and Mary-Ann, Ross, and I were truly blessed to see it all in a way no one else ever did. Before we got into the car, Kendra looked around us to make sure we were alone before she hugged me. I had amazing friends for real!
“Hotties entering the room!” Kylie announced when Kendra and I entered the shed.
“Oh, volunteering for us to tie you up first?” Kendra shot back.
“The thought alone almost makes me c-m myself,” the blonde responded.
“Svensson, do you c-m when playing at home?”
“Of course not! I’m not sexually attracted to them,” came back with a smile.
“She got you on that one,” I smiled.
“Hi,” Michela came alongside me and took my hand, “How's my favorite girl?”
We were alone at the moment besides our friends. I closed my eyes and puckered my lips to kiss Michela on the cheek. It was a perfect moment with my girlfriend here on the set of Tied After Class, and my lips planted right on… Kylie's cheek! Kylie Svensson, how dare you!
“Awwww!” Michela laughed; I’d been set up!
“Thanks, Hannah!” Kylie grabbed me, tilted me 45 degrees, and kissed me on the lips.
“That's the kiss of a girl who's only bi thanks to Mr. Reardon,” Kendra taunted Kylie.
“Damn, that's cold,” Michela brushed her hair back, “Then why aren't you?”
“Oooh, burned there. Maybe we just side with girls because of him,” I finally spoke some true feelings about what that man did to me.
“Oh, stop it, Kendra,” Mary-Ann playfully pushed her, “They’ve experienced a lot more than that.”
“Maybe someone’s going to have her way with me,” Kylie kissed me again.
“That's enough,” Michela gently came between us, “Do that to me now.”
“No!” Kylie crossed her arms and flipped off Michela.
“Fine!” Michela easily overwhelmed Kylie and began kissing her.
“Ladies! I see you’re having fun!” Kristine cackled as she and Steve arrived.
Today was a straight shoot: no plot lines. Girls were getting tied, photographed, and filmed. A straight shooting day sounded fun though. That would still be fun, and we could handle two scenes being shot at the same time if we wanted. There were risks with that, though, if the filming on one end of the set was audible at the other end.
We rolled a playing die to decide who would go first, with higher numbers losing. I was quite pleased that Kylie and Kendra both rolled a five. As long as I didn’t go first, I’d at least get to share in the domination without possibly being left tied up in the corner while the other scenes were being shot.
“Let’s do this!” Kendra took off her bandana and threw it at me, “That’s for Kylie to enjoy!”
“I can’t do that! Then you have to wash her spit out,” I smiled at her.
“Big deal,” she said flatly, “The point is to make her happy.”
“I like the shirt you chose.”
“Thanks! I saw it in the wardrobe and just couldn’t resist a quick switch!”
“Kendra, you may be short in stature, but inside you’re the tallest of us all,” Mary-Ann said with a loving gaze.
Kendra was a bondage goddess sometimes. I don’t know what natural flair she had for it, but she had a thing for the damsel-in-distress trope that none of us could top. She could look so pitiful in the peak of a scene with those faces she’d make. Like her cousin, Kendra could look innocent at will.
Ropes bound her ankles, knees, lower thighs, and upper thighs. Her wrists and elbows were tied behind her back. A white ball gag silenced her and encouraged her to drool. Nothing was on her feet except her white socks. She really was a pretty girl, and it felt like I was the holder of a dirty secret to know just how sweet she could be in private.
“Mmmmmmmmm!” Kendra groaned into the big white ball.
All that earned Kendra was having her shirt unbuttoned to reveal her bra. Kristine knew how to put a girl in her place. It was different sitting back and watching others do things, and I loved to see how Kristine handled a situation. I could tell that Mary-Ann was observing it all as a master class of some sort with how she studied everything that happened from binding Kendra to where the lights were positioned to the angle of the camera.
“MMMMMM!” Kendra repeated her plea, and she started drooling onto her tits.
Watching Kendra was different for me and Mary-Ann. We knew what Kendra thought about the world around her unlike Michela and Kylie, and we knew not to betray that either. Kendra told us because she trusted us, and none of us had had her trust broken like she had. The thought of the teenage Kendra taking the baggies from me because she was suffering and had no other way by which she knew how to escape pierced my heart.
Struggling on the floor was a nice source of income for the 19 year-old who would hit the big 2-0 by the end of the month. M.A. was 20, too, then, and she thought she was hiding that from all of us except Kendra. I can’t imagine how it felt to her to have never had a real birthday party since she was raised without them. She was just an extra mouth to feed at home, and the only time she ever got any real attention was when it was essential or when she was around others.
There was no underscoring how precious Kendra was to M.A.. When Kendra wasn’t focused on the camera, her gaze was diverted to M.A. instead. But Kendra couldn’t focus on M.A. because she was getting her bra removed: tits out, my friends. I could not believe it; Kendra had allowed her boobs to be exposed!
The hottie in distress didn’t grab my eyes the way Michela did, and that was good. It was a sign of progress on my part. I could now look at a girl, especially a friend, and not immediately think about how I’d like to fornicate with her. In fact, the only feelings I had were friendship. I wasn’t sure how to feel about this development in my life.
Kendra continued squirming on the floor as she was doing so well. She was a bondage model in the best sense, making just the right amount of noise to continue a steady supply of drool coming from her lips. She twisted around on the floor just enough that she was convincingly portraying herself as a girl truly tied up against her will. This wasn’t to say we all weren’t capable, but it is different to see it from the perspective of a girl who wasn’t aroused by bondage.
I don't know which was better, the scene or the cheesecake afterwards. Something about Kendra and Joyce made them so much better at the striptease routine than me. I could striptease, but the only eyes that were going to pop were Michela’s. Kendra, on the other hand, was giving us all a master class on unbuttoning a shirt and unhooking a bra.
I had tremendous respect for Kendra, and I couldn't let that we had such wonderfully clustered birthdays go to waste either. Seriously. Me and Kylie shared a day and year; Michela was only one week after me; M.A. was this day; and Kendra was at the end of the month. This was like a little family of our own.
“Do you like that flavor?” Kendra asked Kylie while putting the strips of clear tape over her lips.
“No,” she responded with total confidence in her words.
“Too bad,” the captor tied a pretty floral bandana OTM gag, “You have to live with it.”
You’re as familiar with the Tied After Class bondage style as I am now. Wrists, harness, ankles, knees, and thighs. The only change was the rope ‘V’ between Kylie’s tits. We had our second hottie in distress in the house and ready to go to work!
Kylie played it quite differently. She was a bondage expert, so her movements were more about hamming it up for the camera. She exaggerated her motions as a result. She started by trying to pick at the knots a little before she started to shift about. She kicked her legs out; she twisted her body while remaining on the wooden chair.
Of course I wanted to play dirty with her. I was imagining myself force feeding Michela’s carpet to her. For once, though, I was comfortable with my feelings about girls. I loved Michela, but I had a spot for Kylie. I was undoubtedly into girls, but I only truly cared about Michela. If there came a day where Michela said we had to commit to each other, I would accept it. Comfortable was a foreign feeling to me, and it felt nice and cozy. I didn’t have to hide my true feelings when I was among my friends. Then the film rolled
Kylie threw her heels off after some more struggling, and her bonds became readily visible when she turned as part of her exaggerated struggle. A lot of pictures got some nice clean shots of her feet, feet that none of us in this room would willingly lick except the captive herself. How did a girl like Kylie end up so kinky?
“Aren’t you a naughty b-tch?” Kendra asked with a cackle.
“Mmmmmmm!” Kylie groaned into our friend’s bandana.
“Does my headscarf taste nice and greasy and sweaty, hmmm?” taunted our friend.
“Yuck!”
“Aww, there, there, little girl,” Kendra put the heels back, “You want to be untied?”
“Mmmm hmmm!” Kylie nodded while Kendra helped her to her feet.
“Well, you have to wait a little while longer, my dear,” Kendra walked away.
Kylie hopped in place and made some exaggerated sound effects for the camera. I sat down with Mary-Ann and didn’t even notice that we were by ourselves in a corner of the studio. Mary-Ann, I wanted to say it, but I didn’t know if I should. She was such a happy, but broken, girl. I could not ignore her on her special day, a day that had never been special for her.
“Mary-Ann,” I started quietly, “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” she sounded confident, “I love living with Kenny.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I hear you have a secret you’re hiding from us.”
“Me? A secret? Um… maybe,” she blushed a bit and turned away from me
“Want to share it, or will I have to force it out of you?” I asked her with authority.
“Try to force it out of me. I dare you.”
Poor Kylie had already fallen back onto her butt and tossed her heels.
Kylie wasn’t done yet though. She wanted to fight, and Kendra gave it to her. Sure, there were a lot of good foot shots, but now we needed the crowning jewel of this scene. There hadn’t been a proper film yet, and Kendra crushed Kylie’s face in layers of purple tape. Now, the blonde hottie in distress was a quiet captive, and we got the thrill of watching her perform for the camera.
“We have a damsel-in-distress in the warehouse,” Mary-Ann quietly pretended to announce it.
“We’re on a bondage film set, not in the Mall of America.”
“Ah, Mall of America, Grandpa would take me there about this time each spring, and we’d get lunch together and go shopping. My dad only has brothers. The cousin I lived with after I got out was a Voisin,” her voice sounded fatigued by that statement while watching Kylie on the set.
“Is there something wrong with that?” I just asked her without much of a thought.
“No, no. I loved the moments. It’s just that Grandpa Voisin died when I was inside.”
“Ma, no!” I had a heartbroken Mary-Ann burying herself against me.
I wasn’t too interested in the cheesecake shots of Kylie the hottie that soon followed. Mary-Ann was in too much pain to describe. The only grandparent she’d truly gotten to really know and to love was gone, and she didn’t get to say a proper goodbye. M.A., the strong girl who seemed to take all life threw at her, the tallest one of us all, was sobbing like a little girl.
I had to make this scene special for Mary-Ann, to show her how much I cared about her. I don’t think she’d ever opened up to anyone about this devastation she’d suffered. No wonder she did not want to be outside; the only one she loved was gone. While she cried, she revealed that the reason she was so easily found by the police every time she ran away from foster care (before the last time when she begged to be locked up) was because she’d always go to the graveyard where her Grandpa was buried next to her Grandma.
There was so much we still had to learn about each other. You think after sharing stories for 6 to 12 months that you would know all there is to know about each other, especially when you’re in a locked building with each other 24/7. We barely knew each other… except the parts that made us beautiful and worthy of each other’s friendship. Now, we were getting to learn the things that made us who we were, and we were becoming even more beautiful to each other.
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Which will happen to Mary-Ann?
(A) Clothespins on her nipples
(B) Hogtied
(C) Heel tied to her face
Up next: Mary-Ann and Michela are hotties in distress!
A eked out a narrow victory in this poll. I am experimenting with sneak previews to give a taste of what is to come in the next chapter.
Story 10 Chapter 1: The True Meaning of Friendship
Over the course of the weeks, I had been in contact with Minnesota Tech in every way I could possibly find. I became obsessed with attending there, and Michela had a similar quest on which she had embarked. We now knew our dreams, and our hearts were aligned in this dream. We’d survived the juvenile detention system, and we wanted to make sure juvenile crime rates went down, the number sentenced decreased, and that those who were sentenced had better outcomes.
April 11, 2015
Can we meet for a coffee before the shoot? Just us. the text from Kendra read.
How about now? I’ll bring you to the shoot, but I have Best Buy afterwards.
Thanks. I’ll see U at the D ‘n’ D.
What’s up? Let me know so I can think about it. I asked again but got no response.
Kendra did it all her way. Maybe that’s why I loved her. Even though it was Kendra’s way or the highway, she was willing to listen and change her ways. Sometimes she plunged headlong into danger, like with an experience about which she was going to tell me in 30 minutes, but it was with a healthy spirit of adventure too. She wasn’t so stupid as to recklessly speed or mix dangerous household cleaners, but she’d shamelessly try to knead a loaf of bread in a way that ensured it came out tough (or outright change the recipe) or get that item off the menu that you promised her she would absolutely detest.
Good or bad, Kendra only gave news in person and only engaged in serious conversations face to face. Wanting coffee with me could just as easily mean she was annoyed with Mary-Ann as she was wanting to shoot the breeze. You didn’t know until she opened her lips; Kendra cut straight to business when it was serious so that the idle chatter came after. When I entered the D ‘n’ D, I saw Kendra already sitting at a table with two coffees and a bag of donuts. I couldn’t miss her as she’d worn a bandana to be obvious; today’s kerchief was a bright yellow, and she had blue jeans shorts with a black t-shirt. Of course, her hair was in a messy bun too.
“Did you know Mary-Ann sometimes cries herself to sleep?” she asked me as I sat down.
“No!” I took the warm coffee in my hands, “That’s so sad.”
“Last night we fell asleep on the sofa with her whimpering in my chest.”
“Why?” I asked in shock, “I can’t picture her being the one crying on you.”
“Mary laughs off her childhood, but it’s all a big coping mechanism. She thinks if she makes a joke of it then it’s not really so bad. You, me, and Kylie made bad choices as if we were invincible and paid the price. Michela, Mary, and Ashley never did a thing to deserve what happened to them, but Mary was forcibly taken from her family.”
“At least she has cousins; I’m the only child of two only children. Just as rejected though. Ironic, the three Roman Catholics were the good girls who each ended up as abuse victims and got long stretches for acting out against the abuse.”
“Hey! I was raised religious until I was 12! Anyway,” Kendra grumbled, “Today is Mary’s birthday. I thought after the scene we could take her out to lunch.”
“Sounds good. How’s it been working for Nabber Cellar too?”
“That’s the funny side of life, in a gross way.”
Kendra explained how Nabber Cellar had three general demands of any model: accepting of tight bondage, willing to be fully naked, and tolerating awkward bondage positions. In three scenes, she'd been hogtied naked, tied over a barstool and vibrated, and tied in a predicament where the choices were pushing herself up and down a dildo or yanking on nasty tit clamps. M.A. had handled even worse, but the folks who ran it were honest, appreciated limits, and paid fairly. They had fun together and got paid for it!
When Kendra talked about her adventures and life with M.A., even the sad stuff like M.A. crying herself to sleep, I saw a passion in her eyes. She loved M.A. as a best friend, and she hadn’t ever experienced friendship like that. This was just what she needed to take control of her life. Gone was the traumatized girl of juvie. Kendra Penelope Kristensen was a rejuvenated girl, and never again would the junkie of the past return. You could say Kendra was the first of us to adjust to life after juvie and put the past in the past. This doesn’t mean we didn’t reminisce; it just meant she could talk about it without reliving the trauma.
“Hannah, I really think you ought to go to Minnesota Tech. You’re doing better, but if you went there I think you could do your best,” she was candid, “We want the best for you.”
“Why did our parents stop loving us?” I asked her with that wording on purpose.
“I don’t know. Like, I know my little sister is big and athletic and smart, but that shouldn’t mean I can’t be loved. I went the way I did to escape, and then I discovered that the other junkies were just as neglected as me. At the time, I was too proud to be better friends with you because I was a senior and you were a junior. I don’t really give a sh-t, Larsson. I went home and told each of my family members that I was sorry I’d brought them shame, and they responded by beating the hell out of me so badly I was in bed for a week from the bruises. I remember you coming into the classroom the next day and muttering something about apologizing and getting no response. We did what we could; f-ck ‘em! I have you girls, and I have Ross!”
“That’s a healthy approach, in a way. Don’t hate them, but don’t think about them either.”
“Now, another thing, I had fun when you tied me and Jenny like that, but I reiterate I do not like TUGs like you girls do. For a special moment, fine, but I demand consent if I’m getting tied. I let it happen though for Jenny. That twirp has always adored me most of all the cousins, probably because of the resemblance. Being a Cool Girl must be an honor if Jenny is one.”
“Kenny, thanks for buying and for opening up a little. I know it’s hard for you. Let’s go.”
Kendra shrugged as if it were just business as usual, but underneath was a sly smile. She loved it in her own way. There was a very special girl underneath that gruff personality, and Mary-Ann, Ross, and I were truly blessed to see it all in a way no one else ever did. Before we got into the car, Kendra looked around us to make sure we were alone before she hugged me. I had amazing friends for real!
► Show Spoiler
“Oh, volunteering for us to tie you up first?” Kendra shot back.
“The thought alone almost makes me c-m myself,” the blonde responded.
“Svensson, do you c-m when playing at home?”
“Of course not! I’m not sexually attracted to them,” came back with a smile.
“She got you on that one,” I smiled.
“Hi,” Michela came alongside me and took my hand, “How's my favorite girl?”
We were alone at the moment besides our friends. I closed my eyes and puckered my lips to kiss Michela on the cheek. It was a perfect moment with my girlfriend here on the set of Tied After Class, and my lips planted right on… Kylie's cheek! Kylie Svensson, how dare you!
“Awwww!” Michela laughed; I’d been set up!
“Thanks, Hannah!” Kylie grabbed me, tilted me 45 degrees, and kissed me on the lips.
“That's the kiss of a girl who's only bi thanks to Mr. Reardon,” Kendra taunted Kylie.
“Damn, that's cold,” Michela brushed her hair back, “Then why aren't you?”
“Oooh, burned there. Maybe we just side with girls because of him,” I finally spoke some true feelings about what that man did to me.
“Oh, stop it, Kendra,” Mary-Ann playfully pushed her, “They’ve experienced a lot more than that.”
“Maybe someone’s going to have her way with me,” Kylie kissed me again.
“That's enough,” Michela gently came between us, “Do that to me now.”
“No!” Kylie crossed her arms and flipped off Michela.
“Fine!” Michela easily overwhelmed Kylie and began kissing her.
“Ladies! I see you’re having fun!” Kristine cackled as she and Steve arrived.
Today was a straight shoot: no plot lines. Girls were getting tied, photographed, and filmed. A straight shooting day sounded fun though. That would still be fun, and we could handle two scenes being shot at the same time if we wanted. There were risks with that, though, if the filming on one end of the set was audible at the other end.
We rolled a playing die to decide who would go first, with higher numbers losing. I was quite pleased that Kylie and Kendra both rolled a five. As long as I didn’t go first, I’d at least get to share in the domination without possibly being left tied up in the corner while the other scenes were being shot.
“Let’s do this!” Kendra took off her bandana and threw it at me, “That’s for Kylie to enjoy!”
“I can’t do that! Then you have to wash her spit out,” I smiled at her.
“Big deal,” she said flatly, “The point is to make her happy.”
“I like the shirt you chose.”
“Thanks! I saw it in the wardrobe and just couldn’t resist a quick switch!”
“Kendra, you may be short in stature, but inside you’re the tallest of us all,” Mary-Ann said with a loving gaze.
► Show Spoiler
Ropes bound her ankles, knees, lower thighs, and upper thighs. Her wrists and elbows were tied behind her back. A white ball gag silenced her and encouraged her to drool. Nothing was on her feet except her white socks. She really was a pretty girl, and it felt like I was the holder of a dirty secret to know just how sweet she could be in private.
“Mmmmmmmmm!” Kendra groaned into the big white ball.
All that earned Kendra was having her shirt unbuttoned to reveal her bra. Kristine knew how to put a girl in her place. It was different sitting back and watching others do things, and I loved to see how Kristine handled a situation. I could tell that Mary-Ann was observing it all as a master class of some sort with how she studied everything that happened from binding Kendra to where the lights were positioned to the angle of the camera.
“MMMMMM!” Kendra repeated her plea, and she started drooling onto her tits.
► Show Spoiler
Struggling on the floor was a nice source of income for the 19 year-old who would hit the big 2-0 by the end of the month. M.A. was 20, too, then, and she thought she was hiding that from all of us except Kendra. I can’t imagine how it felt to her to have never had a real birthday party since she was raised without them. She was just an extra mouth to feed at home, and the only time she ever got any real attention was when it was essential or when she was around others.
There was no underscoring how precious Kendra was to M.A.. When Kendra wasn’t focused on the camera, her gaze was diverted to M.A. instead. But Kendra couldn’t focus on M.A. because she was getting her bra removed: tits out, my friends. I could not believe it; Kendra had allowed her boobs to be exposed!
The hottie in distress didn’t grab my eyes the way Michela did, and that was good. It was a sign of progress on my part. I could now look at a girl, especially a friend, and not immediately think about how I’d like to fornicate with her. In fact, the only feelings I had were friendship. I wasn’t sure how to feel about this development in my life.
Kendra continued squirming on the floor as she was doing so well. She was a bondage model in the best sense, making just the right amount of noise to continue a steady supply of drool coming from her lips. She twisted around on the floor just enough that she was convincingly portraying herself as a girl truly tied up against her will. This wasn’t to say we all weren’t capable, but it is different to see it from the perspective of a girl who wasn’t aroused by bondage.
I don't know which was better, the scene or the cheesecake afterwards. Something about Kendra and Joyce made them so much better at the striptease routine than me. I could striptease, but the only eyes that were going to pop were Michela’s. Kendra, on the other hand, was giving us all a master class on unbuttoning a shirt and unhooking a bra.
I had tremendous respect for Kendra, and I couldn't let that we had such wonderfully clustered birthdays go to waste either. Seriously. Me and Kylie shared a day and year; Michela was only one week after me; M.A. was this day; and Kendra was at the end of the month. This was like a little family of our own.
► Show Spoiler
“No,” she responded with total confidence in her words.
“Too bad,” the captor tied a pretty floral bandana OTM gag, “You have to live with it.”
You’re as familiar with the Tied After Class bondage style as I am now. Wrists, harness, ankles, knees, and thighs. The only change was the rope ‘V’ between Kylie’s tits. We had our second hottie in distress in the house and ready to go to work!
Kylie played it quite differently. She was a bondage expert, so her movements were more about hamming it up for the camera. She exaggerated her motions as a result. She started by trying to pick at the knots a little before she started to shift about. She kicked her legs out; she twisted her body while remaining on the wooden chair.
Of course I wanted to play dirty with her. I was imagining myself force feeding Michela’s carpet to her. For once, though, I was comfortable with my feelings about girls. I loved Michela, but I had a spot for Kylie. I was undoubtedly into girls, but I only truly cared about Michela. If there came a day where Michela said we had to commit to each other, I would accept it. Comfortable was a foreign feeling to me, and it felt nice and cozy. I didn’t have to hide my true feelings when I was among my friends. Then the film rolled
Kylie threw her heels off after some more struggling, and her bonds became readily visible when she turned as part of her exaggerated struggle. A lot of pictures got some nice clean shots of her feet, feet that none of us in this room would willingly lick except the captive herself. How did a girl like Kylie end up so kinky?
“Aren’t you a naughty b-tch?” Kendra asked with a cackle.
“Mmmmmmm!” Kylie groaned into our friend’s bandana.
“Does my headscarf taste nice and greasy and sweaty, hmmm?” taunted our friend.
“Yuck!”
“Aww, there, there, little girl,” Kendra put the heels back, “You want to be untied?”
“Mmmm hmmm!” Kylie nodded while Kendra helped her to her feet.
“Well, you have to wait a little while longer, my dear,” Kendra walked away.
Kylie hopped in place and made some exaggerated sound effects for the camera. I sat down with Mary-Ann and didn’t even notice that we were by ourselves in a corner of the studio. Mary-Ann, I wanted to say it, but I didn’t know if I should. She was such a happy, but broken, girl. I could not ignore her on her special day, a day that had never been special for her.
“Mary-Ann,” I started quietly, “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” she sounded confident, “I love living with Kenny.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I hear you have a secret you’re hiding from us.”
“Me? A secret? Um… maybe,” she blushed a bit and turned away from me
“Want to share it, or will I have to force it out of you?” I asked her with authority.
“Try to force it out of me. I dare you.”
Poor Kylie had already fallen back onto her butt and tossed her heels.
► Show Spoiler
“We have a damsel-in-distress in the warehouse,” Mary-Ann quietly pretended to announce it.
“We’re on a bondage film set, not in the Mall of America.”
“Ah, Mall of America, Grandpa would take me there about this time each spring, and we’d get lunch together and go shopping. My dad only has brothers. The cousin I lived with after I got out was a Voisin,” her voice sounded fatigued by that statement while watching Kylie on the set.
“Is there something wrong with that?” I just asked her without much of a thought.
“No, no. I loved the moments. It’s just that Grandpa Voisin died when I was inside.”
“Ma, no!” I had a heartbroken Mary-Ann burying herself against me.
I wasn’t too interested in the cheesecake shots of Kylie the hottie that soon followed. Mary-Ann was in too much pain to describe. The only grandparent she’d truly gotten to really know and to love was gone, and she didn’t get to say a proper goodbye. M.A., the strong girl who seemed to take all life threw at her, the tallest one of us all, was sobbing like a little girl.
I had to make this scene special for Mary-Ann, to show her how much I cared about her. I don’t think she’d ever opened up to anyone about this devastation she’d suffered. No wonder she did not want to be outside; the only one she loved was gone. While she cried, she revealed that the reason she was so easily found by the police every time she ran away from foster care (before the last time when she begged to be locked up) was because she’d always go to the graveyard where her Grandpa was buried next to her Grandma.
There was so much we still had to learn about each other. You think after sharing stories for 6 to 12 months that you would know all there is to know about each other, especially when you’re in a locked building with each other 24/7. We barely knew each other… except the parts that made us beautiful and worthy of each other’s friendship. Now, we were getting to learn the things that made us who we were, and we were becoming even more beautiful to each other.
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Which will happen to Mary-Ann?
(A) Clothespins on her nipples
(B) Hogtied
(C) Heel tied to her face
Up next: Mary-Ann and Michela are hotties in distress!
CGC Short Stories (F+f+/F+f+): viewtopic.php?f=8&t=20527
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
Honestly I would like a Combination of B and C 
But I vote for C.
But I vote for C.
@charliesmith, @silvertejp590, @SquidIncMaster, @Switcher1313, @The G-Man, @Caesar73, @Lucky Lottie, @Phantomette, @0Kay, @Yewteed, @Solarbeast, @GreyLord, @Kinky_boi,@harveygasson, @hafnermg, @johopp
I was a pushover because of Caesar saying he wanted a mix of "B" and "C", so I counted it as both resulting in a tie between "B" and "C"
Story 10 Chapter 2: The Damsels-in-Distress of Pod F
Well, that was two damsels down. Mary-Ann was a pathetic (in the true sense of the word) sight crying on me like this, and I never knew that she, too, had pains and sorrows like we all did. It’s moments like this where our friendships bloom. Mary-Ann was blooming in my eyes, and from then on someone always made sure that she had a special birthday.
Who was the hotter hottie though? I had our business dressed M.A., with a miniskirt, pantyhose, black heels, and a shiny pink button-up shirt. Her wild hair was in a bun. Michela was trying a new style with blue jeans, white socks, red heels, and a sweatshirt that was much too small for her. She took off her own shirt and bandana, for a change, and donned some of the studio fare.
Kendra was staring at Mary-Ann; she’d noticed her crying friend. We had to do her first then, so that she’d have a happy shoot on her birthday. I whispered into M.A.’s ear that was going next and not to move, and she froze solid and allowed Kendra to start binding her elbows behind her back. The rope wrapped around those limbs, and M.A.’s energy changed.
M.A. was an unique young lady on several levels given her weird view of the world. She was an abnormal person in society’s eyes, but in reality she was the closest thing to what you would get if you could take a person from 1960 and drop them in 2015. In between ropes, Kendra took off her socks and handed them to me, and I stuffed those in Mary-Ann’s willing mouth and sealed it all under strips of a roll of duct tape that Kristine handed to me.
Kristine was the loving big sister none of us ever had. There was a care in the way that she took each of us aside during a session or interacted with us. I knew she’d been inside and reformed; I also had been afraid to talk to her about it. I think it was enough to have solidarity.
“Mmmm!” Mary-Ann grunted as we stood her up on her heels.
“Come on! Get on the chair!” Kendra ordered, “Hannah’s going to test you!”
“Hmmmmm!” our friend groaned like she was in real trouble.
“Quit your crying,” Kristine boomed, “Or we’ll make it worse for you!”
“Eh -e ou-!” the feigned cries for mercy began.
“Stop it!” I pushed her down to a seated position on the chair.
There was Mary-Ann Voisin, the professional Damsel-in-Distress, proud graduate of Pod F at the Mudville Juvenile Detention Center. No one could project fear onto their face like she could. I guess none of us knew fear as she did. I imagined the poor girl, just 13 years old, getting hurt by the families who’d sworn to take care of her, all while actually abusing her or beating her. It was at that moment I realized that she truly had the worst childhood of those of us present. I’d never thought of her and suffering, but she had genuinely suffered.
It was strange how each of us projected in our scenes those qualities that reflected our own pasts. Kylie was distrustful; Mary-Ann was fearful; Michela was distressed; Kendra was angry; I was desperate. I remembered Mary-Ann telling her story of being tied to the bed so she couldn’t run away from the foster family. The way she laughed as she told stories that… were tragic.
“Ahhhh! Noooo!” Mary-Ann almost wailed, “Hleathe -et -e -o ho-e!!”
“Now, Maddy, I know you have a secret that you’re hiding from us. Will you tell?” I asked her.
“No!” she shook her head, “Unhie -e an- -o away!”
“I’m not leaving at all. I just want my friend to tell me the truth!”
“-eave -e a-one!” insisted the captive.
“All right. Just do your thing for the camera,” I pointed to Steve.
At some moments, when Mary-Ann was really showing the fear in the photos, you could see an almost vacant look. It was so strange to see her eyes, of all, go lifeless. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one who laughed it all off? Yet, she had the same emptiness filling her eyeballs that filled both mine and Michela’s at times. At the same time, it was a full expression. She wasn’t scared of the past like I was because she had always believed in something even when she was far from what she believed to be a good path. Even when she had nothing but fear, the fear was underlaid by her belief that she could pull through it. Truly, she was the most complex one of us all. There was a pain in the recollection, but she could bury the past, as she so strongly did when Steve put his hands upon her to intimidate her and unbutton her shirt for the photographs.
On the other end of the set, cheesecake was being served in big hunks. I love cheesecake thanks to Michela teaching what good ones were like. Michela looked great with that shirt riding up her torso from being too small for her, and she had a huge grin on her face. She was an arousing girl in my eyes, but that’s obvious by now. More impressive was when Kylie was aroused by seeing instead of just general arousal. Our blonde friend clearly found this outfit to be scrumptious on dear Michela.
Michela received her own royal treatment from Kylie. Kylie, of course, put her yucky pantyhose in Michela’s mouth before applying clear tape over her lips and a pink bandana OTM gag. Tried and true methods work, and that’s why Michela got a standard TAC style binding: three on her lower legs, one on her thighs, one on her wrists, and a harness with a ‘V’ between the tits.
Michela was quite the lovely damsel-in-distress with those bright red heels just looking wrong with the jeans. What can I say? Steve and Marcy had a heel fetish, and you had to be willing to humor them to keep a steady employment with them. Oh, hell, Michela was hot either way; was it getting warm in the studio? I just knew that Michela seemed comfortable with the situation. I knew she was in good care with Kristine and Kylie. It was important for her to do this without me beside her or actively watching her from a close distance.
Michela struggled in the ropes before she whipped 180 degrees to face the other direction. She’d twist her arms about and talk into the gag, whatever she was saying. All I knew was that she was making what I was certain would be a top seller for whatever month the scene was released. To tell you the truth, I knew I had been taking Michela for granted right then; I realized we wouldn’t be young and spry forever and might not remain a couple forever. I had to make the most of our time together.
Mary-Ann played her part to perfection, yelling and wailing for the camera in a straight fashion that was admirable. Her big French melon titties weren’t flopping enough, and she yelled quite a bit at the camera. If any of us made a pitiful sight in bondage, it was M.A. I loved M.A. then; I love M.A. now. There was so much to learn from her.
The time had come, though. I knew those titties could flop; I had to expose them. Walking over to Mary-Ann, I undid another button and pulled her bra back until the tits came out. There they were! Big, beautiful, squishy French melons were now out for all the world to see! With her tits out, M.A. was now a much more credible damsel-in-distress. Her offense at the exposure could be seen in the photos, too.
“Maddy, you lost your tits! Now what?!” I asked to raucous laughter.
“Are you going to share your secret, Maddy?” I asked her playfully.
“Yeah, Maddy. You gonna talk?” Kendra played with me.
“Hutht hree -e! -ow! Guh huh huh!” she tried wailing to get out of this one.
“Sorry, but that’s not working on me!” I taunted her.
“Gmmmmm!” she jiggled her tits a good deal by shaking about in her rope prison.
“Poor girl, tied up, gagged, exposed, and not understood by us,” Kendra added her own taunt.
“Guh huh huh huhhhhhh!”
Mary-Ann got off the chair and hopped about in position all while repeating that pitiful squealing that she had down to a science. She hopped and cried like you wouldn’t believe, and I think she might have been having a truly emotional moment. She loudly hopped in place to no avail; there was no mercy coming her way.
Taking a seat and throwing her heels at me did not endear Mary-Ann to me. In fact, she stomped her stocking feet on the floor and yelled at me and Kendra. It was time to have fun. TAC was best at the stuff that happened outside the photo slideshow, and this was going to be a classic example of it.
You’re having a good day if you get to witness Kendra and Mary-Ann together at their best. The love they had for each other was incomparable to anything else I knew. It was different because they had no one in life except their Pod F friends, and they had a natural bond with each other. I stepped back and watched them go at it knowing that Mary-Ann would sooner cave to Kendra on camera than to me.
Kendra went straight for the jugular by crushing Mary-Ann’s cheeks in around those dirty socks with 6 layers of duct tape. Kendra might not have a thing for bondage, but she did enjoy anything involving Mary-Ann, bondage included. It was a special bond, pun intended, that they shared. She smiled as much as I did when cranking that roll of tape around Mary-Ann’s head.
“Now, listen, Maddy, I know you have a secret,” I squeezed her tits, “Will you talk?”
“Out with it!” Kendra added while pushing M.A to her stomach, “I’m in warmups!”
“Nmmmm!” she shook her head while I took my heels off her feet.
“I’m going to really wrangle you!” Kendra wrapped a rope around M.A.’s heels and ankles.
“NGGGH!” Mary-Ann groaned as the hogtie formed and brought her limbs together.
“Enjoy the latest perfume to hit the floor at T.J. Maxx… Eau de Hannah!” I used a bandage to wrap my heel to her face.
Mary-Ann is an inveterate kinkster; the signs were obvious then. She was completely aroused by what we were doing to her despite the sweat forming on her brow and seeming anxiety in her big eyes. She rapidly looked around the room and shrieked at the top of her lungs. It was the start of a very special relationship between her and kink; for the sake of a movie, though, M.A. willingly gave up after just five minutes of struggling on the floor in her hogtie.
“Are you going to talk?” I asked her firmly while holding her head up by the hair.
“Mmm hmm!” she nodded, and I took safety scissors and cut the tape on her face.
“I’m not untying you until you talk,” I pulled the tape off.
“Mmm hmm!” she agreed to this while the scene faded out for us, but this was real.
“OK,” I finally took the socks out, “Talk, or I will spank you!”
“You win. Today’s my birthday. I said it. Happy?”
“I am happy! Happy birthday!” I planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Why did you do that?” she was sincerely confused, “I don’t get the big deal.”
“Grandpa Voisin took you out for your birthday, that’s why it was this time wasn’t it? He was the one who really took care of you, loved you, and nurtured you, am I right? Then you were taken away and started acting out and finally went to juvie and got a visit, call, or letter from your uncle with the bad news, right?”
“Yes!” M.A. said calmly; she’d cried enough and was strong, “I miss Grandpa.”
“Pick what you want, and we’ll do it after my work shift, OK?”
“All right,” she chose to let our love warm her heart instead of being sorrowful.
There was so much we could learn from Mary-Ann Voisin. So, so much was learned just in this one day. Mary-Ann, we love you so much.
No, Michela hasn’t been forgotten either. That particular hottie in distress just wasn’t my focus at the moment. With M.A. having been taken care of and now being freed, I turned my attention to the girl with whom I shared a bed. She made her usual pleas of “-ell -e!” and “-et -e -o!” She got freed all right; Kylie freed her tits from the undersized sweater. Those beautiful tits were on display for the camera now.
“-hy hih -ou ho thah?!” the captive demanded of Kylie.
“Because it seemed right,” Kylie replie sarcastically, “I’m the one making the decisions here.”
“Unhie -e! -et -e -o!” the damsel stomped her heels on the floor.
“I can’t do that. You need to ask Kristine to do that.”
“Hine! Hrithhine! Unhie -e!” Michela looked around for anyone who would help.
“Let me think about that for a while,” Kristine said, then immediately added, “No.”
“GMMMM!” Michela moved her hands to indicate strangulation.
“Awwww, Kristine, she wants to hug you!”
“NOOOOO!” Michela sat up and started struggling some more.
I mention solidarity a lot. We were scared teenagers, like it or not. We’d been thrown off in the deep end of the pool and not only had to learn how to swim but also how to be lifeguards. I just cannot reiterate enough times how much better it was for us to do this with Kristine. We had in her an example of someone who had turned to modeling in her own post-prison desperation and had taken off in life from there. I watched her standing at the camera in what seemed to be her favorite outfit: blue jeans and a turtleneck or sweater. Sometimes she had a matching bandana.
“I went inside because I was a mess. I was a bully in the worst way, a big part of Mudville’s one true gang,” Kristine started talking without prompting, “I sold drugs, I committed robberies, and I even more than once helped beat up somebody. We went all over the metro.”
“Wow, Kristine, you were bad like Hannah,” Kylie listened, but Kristine was talking to me more.
“Did you know a girl named Claire Blakely?” I asked her while standing behind her.
“Did I? We went to juvie and shared a cell together… that was before we got released. You know her?! Is she alive?! Did she make out all right?!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I don’t know, but I’m… I’m good friends with her little sister. I’ll ask.”
“Thank you, Hannah! I don’t know why… I’ve never even talked about that with anyone except my husband. It just came out when I saw you nervously standing with your hands behind your back.”
She said it, and I realized it. We all did it still. Kendra and Mary-Ann, now laughing over their scene, were doing it. Kylie and I were too. Hell, Kristine was doing it too! Straight and tall, hands behind our backs, dominant hand grasping the non-dominant wrist. Most of us… still do it to this day. Even though it’s, for me, but a 13 month window of my life, it’s a scarring one for sure. We don’t even notice it most of the time, but now it’s mostly an inside joke. Mostly.
Our conversation had been at enough of a distance that Michela hadn’t really picked up most of it since Steve had taken over the photography work on her once he understood that Kristine and I needed this conversation. Normally Kristine would never drop work like this, but she connected to me right then when I asked about my friend’s sister. Small world; they belonged to the same gang.
Michela was struggling on the chair in her bondage, and Kylie just walked over and grabbed her by the boobs for a moment before taking the harness in her hands, placing Michela on the floor, and taking the chair away. Now, Michela struggled on her knees on the floor. I felt a burn in my crotch that I casually scratched away as if my stage garter were uncomfortable.
The kneeling position made Michela lose her heels in addition to her lost tits. I was glad, too, as I didn’t like the heels she had chosen with that outfit. She flopped on her side and scowled at the camera and her imaginary audience all while reiterating that beloved “-ell -e!” she said so often while in bondage. I wondered why she said those three or four canned phrases so much…
To whom was she talking, if anyone, by that phrase? I know she’d said she felt it was just acting despite my innermost feelings saying that this was some suppressed part of her childhood. Was I judging my friend in a sense? Was she all right and truly just acting?
There was no fear in her eyes as she squirmed on the floor in such an arousing manner that for a moment I wanted to take over the scene from Kylie. I held my emotions in check. This was just what they needed: to work without anyone else. What if one day one of them was asked to work without the rest of us present? They had to be able to function as their own models. Michela is always adorable when she’s tied up, and there are no exceptions to this rule.
I think she liked having her tits exposed like that. It was empowering for her. We all knew what it was like to experience inappropriate contact and exposure. Michela was controlling herself to the fullest; she was steering her behavior. There were things she couldn’t fix, but she was quite determined to fix what she could. There was a competitive fire in her eyes now.
What. A. Damsel. In. Distress.
“It’s time to get you ready,” Mary-Ann took me by the arm, “Come on. You’ll still see her.”
“All right!” I happily followed along now that I knew Michela was all right.
Things were looking up for all of us!
Those last few moments of Michela’s scene were like a whirlwind. It was but a handful of shots of the hottest of the hotties from Pod F. Then again, I was biased. All of the Damsel-in-Distress of Pod F were gorgeous dolls, inside and out. Just look at Michela rolling around and yelling at her imaginary captor; she was having fun and getting paid for it.
“How are you, Mary-Ann?” I asked her as I took my seat, “Where will your birthday dinner be?”
“I’m doing good. I haven’t thought about it. Wait!”
“You have an idea?” Kendra’s eyes brightened.
“That last time I went with my grandpa on my birthday, we went to this little place. I go by it on my way to work. Can we go there? I promise I’ll cry.”
“Anything for you, M.A. Anything,” I responded.
“Hannah Bandana!” she picked right up off the floor, “You and Kendra planned this all out! And you won!”
“Mary-Ann, you know just how much we care about you!”
We really did care about her.
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What kind of food does the restaurant serve?
(A) American Breakfast
(B) French Dinner
(C) Italian Dinner
I was a pushover because of Caesar saying he wanted a mix of "B" and "C", so I counted it as both resulting in a tie between "B" and "C"
Story 10 Chapter 2: The Damsels-in-Distress of Pod F
Well, that was two damsels down. Mary-Ann was a pathetic (in the true sense of the word) sight crying on me like this, and I never knew that she, too, had pains and sorrows like we all did. It’s moments like this where our friendships bloom. Mary-Ann was blooming in my eyes, and from then on someone always made sure that she had a special birthday.
Who was the hotter hottie though? I had our business dressed M.A., with a miniskirt, pantyhose, black heels, and a shiny pink button-up shirt. Her wild hair was in a bun. Michela was trying a new style with blue jeans, white socks, red heels, and a sweatshirt that was much too small for her. She took off her own shirt and bandana, for a change, and donned some of the studio fare.
Kendra was staring at Mary-Ann; she’d noticed her crying friend. We had to do her first then, so that she’d have a happy shoot on her birthday. I whispered into M.A.’s ear that was going next and not to move, and she froze solid and allowed Kendra to start binding her elbows behind her back. The rope wrapped around those limbs, and M.A.’s energy changed.
M.A. was an unique young lady on several levels given her weird view of the world. She was an abnormal person in society’s eyes, but in reality she was the closest thing to what you would get if you could take a person from 1960 and drop them in 2015. In between ropes, Kendra took off her socks and handed them to me, and I stuffed those in Mary-Ann’s willing mouth and sealed it all under strips of a roll of duct tape that Kristine handed to me.
Kristine was the loving big sister none of us ever had. There was a care in the way that she took each of us aside during a session or interacted with us. I knew she’d been inside and reformed; I also had been afraid to talk to her about it. I think it was enough to have solidarity.
“Mmmm!” Mary-Ann grunted as we stood her up on her heels.
“Come on! Get on the chair!” Kendra ordered, “Hannah’s going to test you!”
“Hmmmmm!” our friend groaned like she was in real trouble.
“Quit your crying,” Kristine boomed, “Or we’ll make it worse for you!”
“Eh -e ou-!” the feigned cries for mercy began.
“Stop it!” I pushed her down to a seated position on the chair.
There was Mary-Ann Voisin, the professional Damsel-in-Distress, proud graduate of Pod F at the Mudville Juvenile Detention Center. No one could project fear onto their face like she could. I guess none of us knew fear as she did. I imagined the poor girl, just 13 years old, getting hurt by the families who’d sworn to take care of her, all while actually abusing her or beating her. It was at that moment I realized that she truly had the worst childhood of those of us present. I’d never thought of her and suffering, but she had genuinely suffered.
It was strange how each of us projected in our scenes those qualities that reflected our own pasts. Kylie was distrustful; Mary-Ann was fearful; Michela was distressed; Kendra was angry; I was desperate. I remembered Mary-Ann telling her story of being tied to the bed so she couldn’t run away from the foster family. The way she laughed as she told stories that… were tragic.
“Ahhhh! Noooo!” Mary-Ann almost wailed, “Hleathe -et -e -o ho-e!!”
“Now, Maddy, I know you have a secret that you’re hiding from us. Will you tell?” I asked her.
“No!” she shook her head, “Unhie -e an- -o away!”
“I’m not leaving at all. I just want my friend to tell me the truth!”
“-eave -e a-one!” insisted the captive.
“All right. Just do your thing for the camera,” I pointed to Steve.
At some moments, when Mary-Ann was really showing the fear in the photos, you could see an almost vacant look. It was so strange to see her eyes, of all, go lifeless. Wasn’t she supposed to be the one who laughed it all off? Yet, she had the same emptiness filling her eyeballs that filled both mine and Michela’s at times. At the same time, it was a full expression. She wasn’t scared of the past like I was because she had always believed in something even when she was far from what she believed to be a good path. Even when she had nothing but fear, the fear was underlaid by her belief that she could pull through it. Truly, she was the most complex one of us all. There was a pain in the recollection, but she could bury the past, as she so strongly did when Steve put his hands upon her to intimidate her and unbutton her shirt for the photographs.
On the other end of the set, cheesecake was being served in big hunks. I love cheesecake thanks to Michela teaching what good ones were like. Michela looked great with that shirt riding up her torso from being too small for her, and she had a huge grin on her face. She was an arousing girl in my eyes, but that’s obvious by now. More impressive was when Kylie was aroused by seeing instead of just general arousal. Our blonde friend clearly found this outfit to be scrumptious on dear Michela.
Michela received her own royal treatment from Kylie. Kylie, of course, put her yucky pantyhose in Michela’s mouth before applying clear tape over her lips and a pink bandana OTM gag. Tried and true methods work, and that’s why Michela got a standard TAC style binding: three on her lower legs, one on her thighs, one on her wrists, and a harness with a ‘V’ between the tits.
► Show Spoiler
Michela struggled in the ropes before she whipped 180 degrees to face the other direction. She’d twist her arms about and talk into the gag, whatever she was saying. All I knew was that she was making what I was certain would be a top seller for whatever month the scene was released. To tell you the truth, I knew I had been taking Michela for granted right then; I realized we wouldn’t be young and spry forever and might not remain a couple forever. I had to make the most of our time together.
Mary-Ann played her part to perfection, yelling and wailing for the camera in a straight fashion that was admirable. Her big French melon titties weren’t flopping enough, and she yelled quite a bit at the camera. If any of us made a pitiful sight in bondage, it was M.A. I loved M.A. then; I love M.A. now. There was so much to learn from her.
The time had come, though. I knew those titties could flop; I had to expose them. Walking over to Mary-Ann, I undid another button and pulled her bra back until the tits came out. There they were! Big, beautiful, squishy French melons were now out for all the world to see! With her tits out, M.A. was now a much more credible damsel-in-distress. Her offense at the exposure could be seen in the photos, too.
“Maddy, you lost your tits! Now what?!” I asked to raucous laughter.
“Are you going to share your secret, Maddy?” I asked her playfully.
“Yeah, Maddy. You gonna talk?” Kendra played with me.
“Hutht hree -e! -ow! Guh huh huh!” she tried wailing to get out of this one.
“Sorry, but that’s not working on me!” I taunted her.
“Gmmmmm!” she jiggled her tits a good deal by shaking about in her rope prison.
“Poor girl, tied up, gagged, exposed, and not understood by us,” Kendra added her own taunt.
“Guh huh huh huhhhhhh!”
► Show Spoiler
Taking a seat and throwing her heels at me did not endear Mary-Ann to me. In fact, she stomped her stocking feet on the floor and yelled at me and Kendra. It was time to have fun. TAC was best at the stuff that happened outside the photo slideshow, and this was going to be a classic example of it.
You’re having a good day if you get to witness Kendra and Mary-Ann together at their best. The love they had for each other was incomparable to anything else I knew. It was different because they had no one in life except their Pod F friends, and they had a natural bond with each other. I stepped back and watched them go at it knowing that Mary-Ann would sooner cave to Kendra on camera than to me.
Kendra went straight for the jugular by crushing Mary-Ann’s cheeks in around those dirty socks with 6 layers of duct tape. Kendra might not have a thing for bondage, but she did enjoy anything involving Mary-Ann, bondage included. It was a special bond, pun intended, that they shared. She smiled as much as I did when cranking that roll of tape around Mary-Ann’s head.
“Now, listen, Maddy, I know you have a secret,” I squeezed her tits, “Will you talk?”
“Out with it!” Kendra added while pushing M.A to her stomach, “I’m in warmups!”
“Nmmmm!” she shook her head while I took my heels off her feet.
“I’m going to really wrangle you!” Kendra wrapped a rope around M.A.’s heels and ankles.
“NGGGH!” Mary-Ann groaned as the hogtie formed and brought her limbs together.
“Enjoy the latest perfume to hit the floor at T.J. Maxx… Eau de Hannah!” I used a bandage to wrap my heel to her face.
Mary-Ann is an inveterate kinkster; the signs were obvious then. She was completely aroused by what we were doing to her despite the sweat forming on her brow and seeming anxiety in her big eyes. She rapidly looked around the room and shrieked at the top of her lungs. It was the start of a very special relationship between her and kink; for the sake of a movie, though, M.A. willingly gave up after just five minutes of struggling on the floor in her hogtie.
“Are you going to talk?” I asked her firmly while holding her head up by the hair.
“Mmm hmm!” she nodded, and I took safety scissors and cut the tape on her face.
“I’m not untying you until you talk,” I pulled the tape off.
“Mmm hmm!” she agreed to this while the scene faded out for us, but this was real.
“OK,” I finally took the socks out, “Talk, or I will spank you!”
“You win. Today’s my birthday. I said it. Happy?”
“I am happy! Happy birthday!” I planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Why did you do that?” she was sincerely confused, “I don’t get the big deal.”
“Grandpa Voisin took you out for your birthday, that’s why it was this time wasn’t it? He was the one who really took care of you, loved you, and nurtured you, am I right? Then you were taken away and started acting out and finally went to juvie and got a visit, call, or letter from your uncle with the bad news, right?”
“Yes!” M.A. said calmly; she’d cried enough and was strong, “I miss Grandpa.”
“Pick what you want, and we’ll do it after my work shift, OK?”
“All right,” she chose to let our love warm her heart instead of being sorrowful.
There was so much we could learn from Mary-Ann Voisin. So, so much was learned just in this one day. Mary-Ann, we love you so much.
► Show Spoiler
“-hy hih -ou ho thah?!” the captive demanded of Kylie.
“Because it seemed right,” Kylie replie sarcastically, “I’m the one making the decisions here.”
“Unhie -e! -et -e -o!” the damsel stomped her heels on the floor.
“I can’t do that. You need to ask Kristine to do that.”
“Hine! Hrithhine! Unhie -e!” Michela looked around for anyone who would help.
“Let me think about that for a while,” Kristine said, then immediately added, “No.”
“GMMMM!” Michela moved her hands to indicate strangulation.
“Awwww, Kristine, she wants to hug you!”
“NOOOOO!” Michela sat up and started struggling some more.
I mention solidarity a lot. We were scared teenagers, like it or not. We’d been thrown off in the deep end of the pool and not only had to learn how to swim but also how to be lifeguards. I just cannot reiterate enough times how much better it was for us to do this with Kristine. We had in her an example of someone who had turned to modeling in her own post-prison desperation and had taken off in life from there. I watched her standing at the camera in what seemed to be her favorite outfit: blue jeans and a turtleneck or sweater. Sometimes she had a matching bandana.
“I went inside because I was a mess. I was a bully in the worst way, a big part of Mudville’s one true gang,” Kristine started talking without prompting, “I sold drugs, I committed robberies, and I even more than once helped beat up somebody. We went all over the metro.”
“Wow, Kristine, you were bad like Hannah,” Kylie listened, but Kristine was talking to me more.
“Did you know a girl named Claire Blakely?” I asked her while standing behind her.
“Did I? We went to juvie and shared a cell together… that was before we got released. You know her?! Is she alive?! Did she make out all right?!”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I don’t know, but I’m… I’m good friends with her little sister. I’ll ask.”
“Thank you, Hannah! I don’t know why… I’ve never even talked about that with anyone except my husband. It just came out when I saw you nervously standing with your hands behind your back.”
She said it, and I realized it. We all did it still. Kendra and Mary-Ann, now laughing over their scene, were doing it. Kylie and I were too. Hell, Kristine was doing it too! Straight and tall, hands behind our backs, dominant hand grasping the non-dominant wrist. Most of us… still do it to this day. Even though it’s, for me, but a 13 month window of my life, it’s a scarring one for sure. We don’t even notice it most of the time, but now it’s mostly an inside joke. Mostly.
► Show Spoiler
Michela was struggling on the chair in her bondage, and Kylie just walked over and grabbed her by the boobs for a moment before taking the harness in her hands, placing Michela on the floor, and taking the chair away. Now, Michela struggled on her knees on the floor. I felt a burn in my crotch that I casually scratched away as if my stage garter were uncomfortable.
The kneeling position made Michela lose her heels in addition to her lost tits. I was glad, too, as I didn’t like the heels she had chosen with that outfit. She flopped on her side and scowled at the camera and her imaginary audience all while reiterating that beloved “-ell -e!” she said so often while in bondage. I wondered why she said those three or four canned phrases so much…
To whom was she talking, if anyone, by that phrase? I know she’d said she felt it was just acting despite my innermost feelings saying that this was some suppressed part of her childhood. Was I judging my friend in a sense? Was she all right and truly just acting?
There was no fear in her eyes as she squirmed on the floor in such an arousing manner that for a moment I wanted to take over the scene from Kylie. I held my emotions in check. This was just what they needed: to work without anyone else. What if one day one of them was asked to work without the rest of us present? They had to be able to function as their own models. Michela is always adorable when she’s tied up, and there are no exceptions to this rule.
I think she liked having her tits exposed like that. It was empowering for her. We all knew what it was like to experience inappropriate contact and exposure. Michela was controlling herself to the fullest; she was steering her behavior. There were things she couldn’t fix, but she was quite determined to fix what she could. There was a competitive fire in her eyes now.
What. A. Damsel. In. Distress.
“It’s time to get you ready,” Mary-Ann took me by the arm, “Come on. You’ll still see her.”
“All right!” I happily followed along now that I knew Michela was all right.
Things were looking up for all of us!
► Show Spoiler
“How are you, Mary-Ann?” I asked her as I took my seat, “Where will your birthday dinner be?”
“I’m doing good. I haven’t thought about it. Wait!”
“You have an idea?” Kendra’s eyes brightened.
“That last time I went with my grandpa on my birthday, we went to this little place. I go by it on my way to work. Can we go there? I promise I’ll cry.”
“Anything for you, M.A. Anything,” I responded.
“Hannah Bandana!” she picked right up off the floor, “You and Kendra planned this all out! And you won!”
“Mary-Ann, you know just how much we care about you!”
We really did care about her.
=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=#=
What kind of food does the restaurant serve?
(A) American Breakfast
(B) French Dinner
(C) Italian Dinner
Last edited by AlexUSA3 3 days ago, edited 2 times in total.
CGC Short Stories (F+f+/F+f+): viewtopic.php?f=8&t=20527
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
What an exquisite bondage loaded Chapter again
A it is - this personally. I do not like French Breakfast
A it is - this personally. I do not like French Breakfast
-
silvertejp590
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All right then! Mary-Ann wants breakfast for dinner.
Story 10 Chapter 3: Threesome
I don’t want to sound like a spoil sport, but I’m going to be because I was quite gorgeous in my blue striped top (studio’s) and blue skirt (mine). It was quite the tie, actually. Oh, heck, let’s get into it. I’ll give you the details.
My legs were tied in a typical TAC manner, but my wrists were tied in front really well when I was seated on the chair. M.A. tightly tied me to that chair at my thighs and on either side of my tits. I was going nowhere. Then they used the blue ball gag on my mouth. If you’re wondering, yes I did like that ball gag, and the blue ball gags (both sizes) are still my favorite gags from any studio for which I have modeled.
There was no cheesecake needed before or after this one; I was scrumptious enough already! I’d say I am partial to Mary-Ann’s rope work; I don’t escape her bondage! The photos do not do her work justice. I was stuck. I was going nowhere. I was trapped. I could reach up and paw at the gag, but I couldn’t reach the straps.
“MMMMMMM!” I yelled out and crashed my heels on the concrete, “Ehhhhh!”
“Hey, hottie, can you get out of that? Hmmmm?” Mary-Ann taunted me.
“Mmmmm!” I didn’t try to speak words and just went for the groaning.
“Would you like me to remove that big, beautiful blue ball, Busty Beauty?” she squeezed my cheek.
“Mmm hmm!” I wailed like I was in real danger.
“Well, I’m not!”
The film that followed the photos saw me with tits out. Mary-Ann gleefully exposed me. It was a short film, maybe 2 or 3 minutes, but it was even more fun after. One by one, each of the girls, in age order, walked up to me and fondled my tits. At the end of the line was Kylie, who not only fondled me but sat on me and sensually played with my tits and kissed me until I orgasmed. Why didn't Michela play too?
I loved being humiliated in that kind of fashion.
It was a good day. We all grew a little closer to each other, including Kristine, and we all left a little richer and with good intentions for the money unlike when Kendra and I were common junkies. We could commiserate a bit in that regard. We worked best as a group, and Steve rewarded us a little. His kindness seemed unnoticed by anyone but me and Kylie.
Onto Best Buy.
Teddy’s - All Breakfast, All the Time
After a long work shift, I was glad to go into the restaurant and see that my friends were already at a table, looking like they just got seated moments before. Kylie and Kenny saw me and waved me over to sit between them, and I hurried over to them because I was hungry in more than one way after that bondage shoot. Taking the seat, I let out a sigh of satisfaction.
“I ordered a coffee for you,” Kendra said kindly, “I know how you are.”
“Thank you!” I smiled and sat up straight, “I appreciate that!”
“How was work?” Michela asked me with a smile, “Kylie’s coming home with us.”
“Sweet, but, more importantly, Mary-Ann,” I turned to the birthday girl, “How are you?”
“For a girl who hasn’t seen this place since she was 12, devastated,” she choked up a bit.
“Don’t dwell on it, Mary,” Kendra reminded her, “You only hurt yourself.”
“I grew up thinking parents were only there to feed their kids and give them a home. Any love I got came from Grandma and Grandpa Voisin,” Mary-Ann let her mind wander, “Losing Grandpa was like the nail in the coffin for me. I didn’t get to say goodbye; the warden wouldn’t let me go to the funeral. It wasn’t until I met you, Hannah, and Kendra that I realized parents were meant to love their children.”
“So how do you feel?” Kylie asked, “Empty? Enamored with the joys of friendship?”
“Empty. My heart always lacked something all the other kids had. We were kids and couldn’t explain such esoteric things. Only when I was an adult did I realize that love’s a language, not a thing you describe, and that it means so many things. How God loves me is different from how I loved Grandpa or how I love Kendra. It’s like I’m 13 again; it’s raining outside; I’m curled up in a ball on the ground, shivering because it’s only 45 degrees; and I’m huddled against the simple headstone marking where my grandparents are buried. That’s how every moment of my life feels except when I’m with you girls. Here, right now, I feel full of meaning and purpose, just like I did when I was with Grandpa. I spent so much time with the Voisin’s that I felt it enough, but I never felt it in juvie except during those rec hours. Only loneliness kept me company those two months I wandered around homeless. Then I moved in with my cousin, and I got some of it back. She loves me dearly, but you girls love me in that way… I can’t explain.”
Mary-Ann was tired. She leaned back and sank in the chair with a grimace; tears rolled down her cheeks. She was lost and confused and overwhelmed by life. She turned to each of us with a mixture of panic and fear until her eyes settled on Kendra. Then a smile filled her face, and even the tears couldn’t contain the happiness as she sat back up.
“If you girls want to be immature like me, you’ll get either Belgian Waffles or a Super Stack.”
“Mary, you’re OK, right?” Kendra reached out her hand and stopped upon seeing Michela.
“Do it, Kenny,” I encouraged her.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Mary-Ann watched Kendra take her hand, “Best friends forever, I hope.”
“BFFs, baby. Here come our drinks; get ready to order!”
“All right!” the joy returned to Mary-Ann.
A few Super Stacks of pancakes and a couple of Belgian Waffles didn’t really matter; we freely stole from each other’s plates. We knew there was a reason to keep coming back here. This was Mary-Ann’s happy place, and we made sure that it was a very happy birthday for one sweet girl whom we all loved very much.
“Your mom knows you're here, right?” I asked Kylie just to be certain.
“Oh, yeah. I'm going to be tied up by two bandana queens, yes?”
“I don't know who’ll be the second one tied, if either, but you’ll be tied,” I smiled.
“I like holding girls,” Michela hand gagged Kylie, “While you tie them.”
“I think she needs to be naked. What do you say?”
“Naked is nice, but we're sexiest with clothes on.”
“Naked means we can make her eat her own or the other captive's orgasm though.”
That won over Michela. We all enjoyed the orgasm gags, but for Kylie and I orgasm gags were the best gag of all. Dirty socks, worn hose, and c-m aroused us all, but the two of us almost instantly orgasmed upon the reception of such a gag. M.A.’s parties were perfect because then we could all get it, get fresh gags as other things happened, and so forth, but we could enjoy ourselves like this.
Naked wasn't really necessary. We all had short skirts on. Michela had a fuschia knee skirt that was ruffly and a matching bandana headband with a purple long-sleeve shirt. Kylie’s skirt was a denim mini skirt, and she had a black long-sleeve t-shirt. My skirt was a blue knee skirt with a yellow t-shirt and a matching bandana headband.
As part of a little part of our birthday celebration, Janie and Nichole had given us both a nice supply of the blue and orange rubber balls and handkerchiefs like they used for their games and which, in turn, originated in the sorority. I wanted to put them to use on Kylie, but I had a problem. I had just prepared a blue rubber ball with a big white handkerchief to gag Kylie.
“Ball gag? You can't do that to her!” Michela said.
“Kendra and I each had one earlier today. Was that a problem?” I asked her.
“Yes, it was! My daddy's a psycho!” she threw her hands up and turned away, “NO!”
“Michela, stop. Your dad isn't here. No one is getting hurt.”
“I’m fine with it,” Kylie momentarily ignored Michela’s anger for the sake of peace.
“Shut up!” I took advantage.
“Ball gags, R gags, tape strip gag. The R gag was worst of all of them. The memories of it… Daddy putting it in my mouth before he’d…”
“Let's not go there.”
“Hannah, Kylie, why did he do it?” she asked once again, “Why do I like bondage? Am I a monster like he is? Is it kink? Is it coping? Is it an escape? Is it acting out against myself? When Daddy first…”
“STOP!” I ordered her, “Michela, I love you, but I’m not ready for that yet. Hearing it makes me cry.”
“Am I normal? Or am I a monster?” her voice grew quiet.
“It's your way of coping. It's healthy for you. It's an outlet where you share a special bond with your closest friends.”
Kylie was perturbed by our discussion, and Michela seemed more pensive than vacant this time. Michela sat down on the bed and let go of Kylie. We all paused and let my girlfriend have her silence. She quietly put her hands behind her back and closed her eyes. Tears started pouring out of her eyes, and she opened and looked up at me with anxiety and fear. She took a piece of white rope from my bag on the bed and fingered it slowly. Looking down at the rope, Michela opened her mouth, grimaced, and shut it. There was no doubt; Michela was reliving her torture.
She was thinking deeply though. Her eyes were alive. She let go of the rope and took the rubber ball I had prepared for Kylie. She studied it momentarily and briefly held it up to her own mouth. She looked at me for approval and stopped. What was going through her head now?
“Sometimes, when I’d stare at another boy during church, Daddy would order me to gag myself because he knew I hated it. Then he'd tie me and hurt me.”
“Ummmm…”
“I want to claim my life back. I’m a child of God, first. If I… gagged myself with the rubber ball, Hannah, would you tie me up? I don't want to be in mental slavery forever. I want to be your kinky girlfriend, and I want to be able to work my way to a real ball gag. This dog toy is so unlike the real deal… I could handle it as long as you make me really happy. Hannah, please. I’m begging you!”
“I can't… I…”
“Hannah, you used to stand there and obfuscate because you were selfish. Now you stand there and obfuscate because you don't know what's best for me,” there was passion in her words, “I’m asking you to help me! Hannah, 124 times I was tied up by his hands; 83 times he forcefully made a baby with me; 67 times he emptied it into my mouth! Just over 10 months! How much more would I have suffered?”
“I’m not sure I can help!” I admitted how useless I felt I was.
“What kind of psycho r-pes his own daughter, gives her a blowjob?! And he gave me 67 blowjobs, Hannah! Why?! Why?!”
“Michela, I love you so much that I will not answer that question.”
“I’m not ready to reclaim my p-ssy and won't be for a long time, but I’m now ready to reclaim my mouth!” she held one of the orange balls, “Gag me! Hannah, I want to try forced carpet.”
She handed me the ball, and I gagged her with it. She whimpered a bit, but she didn't back down.
Interlude 113: A Visit from Mary-Ann
December 25, 2013
“Someone's getting a visitor!” Michela announced as she took the visitor cards.
“Oh, am I really? Is it Grandma?!”
“You had four visit requests, and they had to deny two of them due to the number of visitors today. Ooh, you're getting visited by a French girl with soft D cup melons!”
“Mary-Ann?! Really?” my jaw hit the floor, “How sweet of her!”
“I’m telling you… she cares. Go to her when you get out.”
“Whatever,” I blew off Michela.
I don't even remember what we said; I just remember that she came. I thought back to this particular moment though when I was dying in that basement, and I recalled what Michela had said. I wish I had listened to Michela. Mary-Ann really loved me then as much as she does now. It was the company that mattered to us at the time, and it's the presence I recall despite not recalling the words.
[/spoil]
“Mmmm!” Kylie groaned into a blue rubber ball.
“Gmmm!” Michela groaned into the orange match.
“Aww, Michela, you are so cute! What would make you happy? Carpet love?”
“Mmm,” she struggled to nod; she was scared.
“I want you to be happy, baby. I love you,” I erotically kissed her cheek.
“Mmmm?” Kylie writhed to get my attention.
“You get a kiss, too,” I repeated it just as sensually.
They were tied the same. Lotus position legs, crossed wrists, rough waist ropes, tight breast harnesses, exposure by having their shirts and bras rolled up, and clothespins. The rubber balls with the handkerchiefs gagged them, their panties had been removed, and both had crotch ropes. Carpet was unique to us three; and tonight Michela would try out a new kink to see if she liked it.
Underneath my crotch was Kylie's face. Michela was also on her back with me right against her carpet, licking and kissing her. I had to be careful right now because I’d possibly ruin Michela forever if I did the wrong thing. I rubbed my crotch on Kylie's face, and that was enough to make my bottom girl orgasm.
“Ohhhhh,” I was already a bit aroused, and I squirted on Kylie’s face, “Not sorry.”
“Mmmmmm,” Kylie squirmed underneath me.
“Mmmmm! Hannah!” Michela said my name erotically right before she squirted.
“Oh!” that surprised me, “Mmmm! Salty and good,” I licked it up.
“Mmmmmm!”
“You girls are so sweet,” I paid them their dues, “This is so much fun.”
It was fun indeed, and I loved eating up Michela's carpet. But, now I felt obliged to a change of pace. I turned them that so she was eating my carpet and Kylie was getting hers licked by me. Can you tell I’m really into carpet even as a woman married to a man? It's still my weak spot.
I realized how momentous an occasion this was and took great care for Michela. Was this perhaps the moment you could say I truly understood how a loving relationship is supposed to work? I had us in a tight triangle on the floor so that Kylie was eating up Michela's carpet albeit while gagged. Michela needed pleasure and comfort beyond my voice. Kylie had a squirty carpet, so I got two orgasms to lick for the same effort that got me one from Michela. Michela went shortly after Kylie's first orgasm; mine came shortly after Kylie’s second. A loud groan came out of Michela, a sexy groan of the best kind, but it was mixed with discomfort.
“Did you like eating my p-ssy?” I asked while I seated up my lotus tied beauties.
“No,” Michela shook her head and started crying, “I -ove -ou tho huch!”
“I want you to be happy. Michela, are you happy at least?”
“Mmm hmm,” she nodded, “Ahhhh… ah’m hahin’ hun.”
“Perfect,” I kissed her cheek, “Tears of joy are good tears.”
“Awwwwwww!” Michela's happiness made Kylie happy too.
I had to make this special for my girlfriend, and I put washcloths under both crotch ropes. The vibrator was on the way, and I explained, in a whisper, to Kylie that I needed to give Michela a little bit of special attention. After that, I redid their bonds so their legs were bound like normal at ankles, knees, thighs, and big toes.
“Was that gag so bad?” I asked Michela while I kissed her on the lips.
“No,” she said and kissed me back, “This has been fun, unlike Daddy.”
“Michela,” I paused, “most tools aren't evil. The user can be though.”
“I love you,” her eyes sparkled and went vacant, “Why do you love me?”
“Why do you love me?” I turned her question on her, “It doesn't matter now.”
“Mmmm,” she said when I put my lips against hers, “You're so cute.”
“You're cuter than me when you're happy.”
“Agree to disagree.”
We quite strongly fornicated, and in little snippets she confessed emotions toward me, feelings about the rubber toy ball gag, and carpet. We were kissing, grinding, and, by the aid of the vibrator, orgasming. Michela was alive underneath it all. I accepted the sad reality that she, like me, was ruined for life in some regards, but I now believed I was making a positive impact in her recovery.
Now, it was time to invite Kylie back into the threesome. I laid them next to each other and removed the gag from the Queen of Orgasm’s mouth. It was a perfect time to put a thigh against either girl’s padded crotch and start grinding them. I kissed the blonde on the lips while Michela kissed us on our cheeks.
Kylie didn't want to admit the truth that she was extremely TUG sexual and only had any sexual feelings for her Pod F friends. She was truly asexual, possibly a result of being the Pod F girl who got wrecked the most by Mr. Reardon. I saw it, but I knew if she didn't say it herself then she didn't want it said at all. Kylie was such a private girl I only knew her sibling’s names from her Facebook.
Another thing was Kylie's intelligence. She did homework assignments for our shared classes in 15-60 minutes while I’d sometimes take 2-3 hours. Everything from essays for a literature class to Calculus 2 just came intuitively to her. I think she suffered as a result of prison, perhaps more than any of us. I only knew she genuinely loved all of her friends.
The thing that was most amazing about fornicating with Kylie was the softness of her skin. Was it a blessing or a curse because it made me want to hold her? Her reaction said blessing. Despite her blessings of intellect and health, you weren’t about to hear a boastful word from her lips. We had a lot of reasons to love Kylie Svensson.
“Hannah, this is fun,” Kylie muttered when I let her have a moment.
“Shhhh,” I put a finger to my lips and grinded her to orgasm, “Hannah Bandana is in control.”
“This is fun for real,” Michela’s eyes were full of life for once.
“Michela, you’ve never been so beautiful,” I said before both Kylie and I kissed her.
“Neither have you two,” she responded, “For once I am truly enjoying myself.”
“That’s good,” Kylie grinned before her lips met Michela’s.
“Sounds like this was a good idea,” I contributed before really pushing against their crotches.
“Yummy cummy washcloths,” I smiled after snapping the duct tape.
“Mmmmm!” Kylie agreed wholeheartedly.
“Mmmmm,” Michela writhed on the bed in an erotic manner.
“And you’re both all mine,” I kissed them each on their gagged lips, “Does it taste good?”
“No!’ Michela quickly responded.
“Yeth!” Kylie was just as fast.
Poor Kylie had orgasmed something north of 20 times during this evening, and then to force feed it to Michela forced my girlfriend to orgasm. Kylie likewise orgasmed when I fed her Michela’s crotch cloth. Forced carpet, fingering, spanking, tit torture, a little mild breathplay (for Kylie), hair pulling, and tickling had been among the big and well-deserved menu for the evening.
On the day of mine and Kylie's birthday, we'd enjoyed a threesome with Michela on top, hence why I skipped that one because it was a busy evening, but Kylie went home after that. Tonight, my bound and gagged beauties were remaining bound and gagged. The tape crushed their faces so beautifully.
It was time for some heavier kink. The pains and tortures of before had been solely to stimulate an erotic reaction. Now, it was time to explore pain and pleasure. Spanking and tit twisting were going to the top of the menu. It was going to be a long night.
I learned something for real that night: Michela and Kylie could be kinky, with Kylie being super kinky. Everything I did somehow excited or aroused her. For Michela, I wasn't certain what to expect; it was all new to her. She liked nearly everything I did except the breathplay and the already discussed carpet though.
Afterwards, I untied them, and we enjoyed a true nude threesome, and man was that fun! So many things I could say, but… what really mattered was seeing Michela keep up her vitality throughout the night. Never once did she fade up out long term. I was doing something right, or someone in this house was. Michela was regaining her grip on her own spirit, taking it back from the man who tried to destroy her, enough that she could feel safe and comfortable again in her own home.
We were winning.
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Due to the emotional depth of these concluding chapters, the interludes and polls will no longer continue. This part of my story needs to be one continuous chunk.
All right then! Mary-Ann wants breakfast for dinner.
Story 10 Chapter 3: Threesome
I don’t want to sound like a spoil sport, but I’m going to be because I was quite gorgeous in my blue striped top (studio’s) and blue skirt (mine). It was quite the tie, actually. Oh, heck, let’s get into it. I’ll give you the details.
My legs were tied in a typical TAC manner, but my wrists were tied in front really well when I was seated on the chair. M.A. tightly tied me to that chair at my thighs and on either side of my tits. I was going nowhere. Then they used the blue ball gag on my mouth. If you’re wondering, yes I did like that ball gag, and the blue ball gags (both sizes) are still my favorite gags from any studio for which I have modeled.
There was no cheesecake needed before or after this one; I was scrumptious enough already! I’d say I am partial to Mary-Ann’s rope work; I don’t escape her bondage! The photos do not do her work justice. I was stuck. I was going nowhere. I was trapped. I could reach up and paw at the gag, but I couldn’t reach the straps.
“MMMMMMM!” I yelled out and crashed my heels on the concrete, “Ehhhhh!”
“Hey, hottie, can you get out of that? Hmmmm?” Mary-Ann taunted me.
“Mmmmm!” I didn’t try to speak words and just went for the groaning.
“Would you like me to remove that big, beautiful blue ball, Busty Beauty?” she squeezed my cheek.
“Mmm hmm!” I wailed like I was in real danger.
“Well, I’m not!”
The film that followed the photos saw me with tits out. Mary-Ann gleefully exposed me. It was a short film, maybe 2 or 3 minutes, but it was even more fun after. One by one, each of the girls, in age order, walked up to me and fondled my tits. At the end of the line was Kylie, who not only fondled me but sat on me and sensually played with my tits and kissed me until I orgasmed. Why didn't Michela play too?
I loved being humiliated in that kind of fashion.
It was a good day. We all grew a little closer to each other, including Kristine, and we all left a little richer and with good intentions for the money unlike when Kendra and I were common junkies. We could commiserate a bit in that regard. We worked best as a group, and Steve rewarded us a little. His kindness seemed unnoticed by anyone but me and Kylie.
Onto Best Buy.
► Show Spoiler
After a long work shift, I was glad to go into the restaurant and see that my friends were already at a table, looking like they just got seated moments before. Kylie and Kenny saw me and waved me over to sit between them, and I hurried over to them because I was hungry in more than one way after that bondage shoot. Taking the seat, I let out a sigh of satisfaction.
“I ordered a coffee for you,” Kendra said kindly, “I know how you are.”
“Thank you!” I smiled and sat up straight, “I appreciate that!”
“How was work?” Michela asked me with a smile, “Kylie’s coming home with us.”
“Sweet, but, more importantly, Mary-Ann,” I turned to the birthday girl, “How are you?”
“For a girl who hasn’t seen this place since she was 12, devastated,” she choked up a bit.
“Don’t dwell on it, Mary,” Kendra reminded her, “You only hurt yourself.”
“I grew up thinking parents were only there to feed their kids and give them a home. Any love I got came from Grandma and Grandpa Voisin,” Mary-Ann let her mind wander, “Losing Grandpa was like the nail in the coffin for me. I didn’t get to say goodbye; the warden wouldn’t let me go to the funeral. It wasn’t until I met you, Hannah, and Kendra that I realized parents were meant to love their children.”
“So how do you feel?” Kylie asked, “Empty? Enamored with the joys of friendship?”
“Empty. My heart always lacked something all the other kids had. We were kids and couldn’t explain such esoteric things. Only when I was an adult did I realize that love’s a language, not a thing you describe, and that it means so many things. How God loves me is different from how I loved Grandpa or how I love Kendra. It’s like I’m 13 again; it’s raining outside; I’m curled up in a ball on the ground, shivering because it’s only 45 degrees; and I’m huddled against the simple headstone marking where my grandparents are buried. That’s how every moment of my life feels except when I’m with you girls. Here, right now, I feel full of meaning and purpose, just like I did when I was with Grandpa. I spent so much time with the Voisin’s that I felt it enough, but I never felt it in juvie except during those rec hours. Only loneliness kept me company those two months I wandered around homeless. Then I moved in with my cousin, and I got some of it back. She loves me dearly, but you girls love me in that way… I can’t explain.”
Mary-Ann was tired. She leaned back and sank in the chair with a grimace; tears rolled down her cheeks. She was lost and confused and overwhelmed by life. She turned to each of us with a mixture of panic and fear until her eyes settled on Kendra. Then a smile filled her face, and even the tears couldn’t contain the happiness as she sat back up.
“If you girls want to be immature like me, you’ll get either Belgian Waffles or a Super Stack.”
“Mary, you’re OK, right?” Kendra reached out her hand and stopped upon seeing Michela.
“Do it, Kenny,” I encouraged her.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Mary-Ann watched Kendra take her hand, “Best friends forever, I hope.”
“BFFs, baby. Here come our drinks; get ready to order!”
“All right!” the joy returned to Mary-Ann.
A few Super Stacks of pancakes and a couple of Belgian Waffles didn’t really matter; we freely stole from each other’s plates. We knew there was a reason to keep coming back here. This was Mary-Ann’s happy place, and we made sure that it was a very happy birthday for one sweet girl whom we all loved very much.
► Show Spoiler
“Oh, yeah. I'm going to be tied up by two bandana queens, yes?”
“I don't know who’ll be the second one tied, if either, but you’ll be tied,” I smiled.
“I like holding girls,” Michela hand gagged Kylie, “While you tie them.”
“I think she needs to be naked. What do you say?”
“Naked is nice, but we're sexiest with clothes on.”
“Naked means we can make her eat her own or the other captive's orgasm though.”
That won over Michela. We all enjoyed the orgasm gags, but for Kylie and I orgasm gags were the best gag of all. Dirty socks, worn hose, and c-m aroused us all, but the two of us almost instantly orgasmed upon the reception of such a gag. M.A.’s parties were perfect because then we could all get it, get fresh gags as other things happened, and so forth, but we could enjoy ourselves like this.
Naked wasn't really necessary. We all had short skirts on. Michela had a fuschia knee skirt that was ruffly and a matching bandana headband with a purple long-sleeve shirt. Kylie’s skirt was a denim mini skirt, and she had a black long-sleeve t-shirt. My skirt was a blue knee skirt with a yellow t-shirt and a matching bandana headband.
As part of a little part of our birthday celebration, Janie and Nichole had given us both a nice supply of the blue and orange rubber balls and handkerchiefs like they used for their games and which, in turn, originated in the sorority. I wanted to put them to use on Kylie, but I had a problem. I had just prepared a blue rubber ball with a big white handkerchief to gag Kylie.
“Ball gag? You can't do that to her!” Michela said.
“Kendra and I each had one earlier today. Was that a problem?” I asked her.
“Yes, it was! My daddy's a psycho!” she threw her hands up and turned away, “NO!”
“Michela, stop. Your dad isn't here. No one is getting hurt.”
“I’m fine with it,” Kylie momentarily ignored Michela’s anger for the sake of peace.
“Shut up!” I took advantage.
“Ball gags, R gags, tape strip gag. The R gag was worst of all of them. The memories of it… Daddy putting it in my mouth before he’d…”
“Let's not go there.”
“Hannah, Kylie, why did he do it?” she asked once again, “Why do I like bondage? Am I a monster like he is? Is it kink? Is it coping? Is it an escape? Is it acting out against myself? When Daddy first…”
“STOP!” I ordered her, “Michela, I love you, but I’m not ready for that yet. Hearing it makes me cry.”
“Am I normal? Or am I a monster?” her voice grew quiet.
“It's your way of coping. It's healthy for you. It's an outlet where you share a special bond with your closest friends.”
Kylie was perturbed by our discussion, and Michela seemed more pensive than vacant this time. Michela sat down on the bed and let go of Kylie. We all paused and let my girlfriend have her silence. She quietly put her hands behind her back and closed her eyes. Tears started pouring out of her eyes, and she opened and looked up at me with anxiety and fear. She took a piece of white rope from my bag on the bed and fingered it slowly. Looking down at the rope, Michela opened her mouth, grimaced, and shut it. There was no doubt; Michela was reliving her torture.
She was thinking deeply though. Her eyes were alive. She let go of the rope and took the rubber ball I had prepared for Kylie. She studied it momentarily and briefly held it up to her own mouth. She looked at me for approval and stopped. What was going through her head now?
“Sometimes, when I’d stare at another boy during church, Daddy would order me to gag myself because he knew I hated it. Then he'd tie me and hurt me.”
“Ummmm…”
“I want to claim my life back. I’m a child of God, first. If I… gagged myself with the rubber ball, Hannah, would you tie me up? I don't want to be in mental slavery forever. I want to be your kinky girlfriend, and I want to be able to work my way to a real ball gag. This dog toy is so unlike the real deal… I could handle it as long as you make me really happy. Hannah, please. I’m begging you!”
“I can't… I…”
“Hannah, you used to stand there and obfuscate because you were selfish. Now you stand there and obfuscate because you don't know what's best for me,” there was passion in her words, “I’m asking you to help me! Hannah, 124 times I was tied up by his hands; 83 times he forcefully made a baby with me; 67 times he emptied it into my mouth! Just over 10 months! How much more would I have suffered?”
“I’m not sure I can help!” I admitted how useless I felt I was.
“What kind of psycho r-pes his own daughter, gives her a blowjob?! And he gave me 67 blowjobs, Hannah! Why?! Why?!”
“Michela, I love you so much that I will not answer that question.”
“I’m not ready to reclaim my p-ssy and won't be for a long time, but I’m now ready to reclaim my mouth!” she held one of the orange balls, “Gag me! Hannah, I want to try forced carpet.”
She handed me the ball, and I gagged her with it. She whimpered a bit, but she didn't back down.
Interlude 113: A Visit from Mary-Ann
December 25, 2013
“Someone's getting a visitor!” Michela announced as she took the visitor cards.
“Oh, am I really? Is it Grandma?!”
“You had four visit requests, and they had to deny two of them due to the number of visitors today. Ooh, you're getting visited by a French girl with soft D cup melons!”
“Mary-Ann?! Really?” my jaw hit the floor, “How sweet of her!”
“I’m telling you… she cares. Go to her when you get out.”
“Whatever,” I blew off Michela.
I don't even remember what we said; I just remember that she came. I thought back to this particular moment though when I was dying in that basement, and I recalled what Michela had said. I wish I had listened to Michela. Mary-Ann really loved me then as much as she does now. It was the company that mattered to us at the time, and it's the presence I recall despite not recalling the words.
[/spoil]
“Mmmm!” Kylie groaned into a blue rubber ball.
“Gmmm!” Michela groaned into the orange match.
“Aww, Michela, you are so cute! What would make you happy? Carpet love?”
“Mmm,” she struggled to nod; she was scared.
“I want you to be happy, baby. I love you,” I erotically kissed her cheek.
“Mmmm?” Kylie writhed to get my attention.
“You get a kiss, too,” I repeated it just as sensually.
They were tied the same. Lotus position legs, crossed wrists, rough waist ropes, tight breast harnesses, exposure by having their shirts and bras rolled up, and clothespins. The rubber balls with the handkerchiefs gagged them, their panties had been removed, and both had crotch ropes. Carpet was unique to us three; and tonight Michela would try out a new kink to see if she liked it.
Underneath my crotch was Kylie's face. Michela was also on her back with me right against her carpet, licking and kissing her. I had to be careful right now because I’d possibly ruin Michela forever if I did the wrong thing. I rubbed my crotch on Kylie's face, and that was enough to make my bottom girl orgasm.
“Ohhhhh,” I was already a bit aroused, and I squirted on Kylie’s face, “Not sorry.”
“Mmmmmm,” Kylie squirmed underneath me.
“Mmmmm! Hannah!” Michela said my name erotically right before she squirted.
“Oh!” that surprised me, “Mmmm! Salty and good,” I licked it up.
“Mmmmmm!”
“You girls are so sweet,” I paid them their dues, “This is so much fun.”
It was fun indeed, and I loved eating up Michela's carpet. But, now I felt obliged to a change of pace. I turned them that so she was eating my carpet and Kylie was getting hers licked by me. Can you tell I’m really into carpet even as a woman married to a man? It's still my weak spot.
I realized how momentous an occasion this was and took great care for Michela. Was this perhaps the moment you could say I truly understood how a loving relationship is supposed to work? I had us in a tight triangle on the floor so that Kylie was eating up Michela's carpet albeit while gagged. Michela needed pleasure and comfort beyond my voice. Kylie had a squirty carpet, so I got two orgasms to lick for the same effort that got me one from Michela. Michela went shortly after Kylie's first orgasm; mine came shortly after Kylie’s second. A loud groan came out of Michela, a sexy groan of the best kind, but it was mixed with discomfort.
“Did you like eating my p-ssy?” I asked while I seated up my lotus tied beauties.
“No,” Michela shook her head and started crying, “I -ove -ou tho huch!”
“I want you to be happy. Michela, are you happy at least?”
“Mmm hmm,” she nodded, “Ahhhh… ah’m hahin’ hun.”
“Perfect,” I kissed her cheek, “Tears of joy are good tears.”
“Awwwwwww!” Michela's happiness made Kylie happy too.
I had to make this special for my girlfriend, and I put washcloths under both crotch ropes. The vibrator was on the way, and I explained, in a whisper, to Kylie that I needed to give Michela a little bit of special attention. After that, I redid their bonds so their legs were bound like normal at ankles, knees, thighs, and big toes.
► Show Spoiler
“No,” she said and kissed me back, “This has been fun, unlike Daddy.”
“Michela,” I paused, “most tools aren't evil. The user can be though.”
“I love you,” her eyes sparkled and went vacant, “Why do you love me?”
“Why do you love me?” I turned her question on her, “It doesn't matter now.”
“Mmmm,” she said when I put my lips against hers, “You're so cute.”
“You're cuter than me when you're happy.”
“Agree to disagree.”
We quite strongly fornicated, and in little snippets she confessed emotions toward me, feelings about the rubber toy ball gag, and carpet. We were kissing, grinding, and, by the aid of the vibrator, orgasming. Michela was alive underneath it all. I accepted the sad reality that she, like me, was ruined for life in some regards, but I now believed I was making a positive impact in her recovery.
Now, it was time to invite Kylie back into the threesome. I laid them next to each other and removed the gag from the Queen of Orgasm’s mouth. It was a perfect time to put a thigh against either girl’s padded crotch and start grinding them. I kissed the blonde on the lips while Michela kissed us on our cheeks.
Kylie didn't want to admit the truth that she was extremely TUG sexual and only had any sexual feelings for her Pod F friends. She was truly asexual, possibly a result of being the Pod F girl who got wrecked the most by Mr. Reardon. I saw it, but I knew if she didn't say it herself then she didn't want it said at all. Kylie was such a private girl I only knew her sibling’s names from her Facebook.
Another thing was Kylie's intelligence. She did homework assignments for our shared classes in 15-60 minutes while I’d sometimes take 2-3 hours. Everything from essays for a literature class to Calculus 2 just came intuitively to her. I think she suffered as a result of prison, perhaps more than any of us. I only knew she genuinely loved all of her friends.
The thing that was most amazing about fornicating with Kylie was the softness of her skin. Was it a blessing or a curse because it made me want to hold her? Her reaction said blessing. Despite her blessings of intellect and health, you weren’t about to hear a boastful word from her lips. We had a lot of reasons to love Kylie Svensson.
“Hannah, this is fun,” Kylie muttered when I let her have a moment.
“Shhhh,” I put a finger to my lips and grinded her to orgasm, “Hannah Bandana is in control.”
“This is fun for real,” Michela’s eyes were full of life for once.
“Michela, you’ve never been so beautiful,” I said before both Kylie and I kissed her.
“Neither have you two,” she responded, “For once I am truly enjoying myself.”
“That’s good,” Kylie grinned before her lips met Michela’s.
“Sounds like this was a good idea,” I contributed before really pushing against their crotches.
► Show Spoiler
“Mmmmm!” Kylie agreed wholeheartedly.
“Mmmmm,” Michela writhed on the bed in an erotic manner.
“And you’re both all mine,” I kissed them each on their gagged lips, “Does it taste good?”
“No!’ Michela quickly responded.
“Yeth!” Kylie was just as fast.
Poor Kylie had orgasmed something north of 20 times during this evening, and then to force feed it to Michela forced my girlfriend to orgasm. Kylie likewise orgasmed when I fed her Michela’s crotch cloth. Forced carpet, fingering, spanking, tit torture, a little mild breathplay (for Kylie), hair pulling, and tickling had been among the big and well-deserved menu for the evening.
On the day of mine and Kylie's birthday, we'd enjoyed a threesome with Michela on top, hence why I skipped that one because it was a busy evening, but Kylie went home after that. Tonight, my bound and gagged beauties were remaining bound and gagged. The tape crushed their faces so beautifully.
It was time for some heavier kink. The pains and tortures of before had been solely to stimulate an erotic reaction. Now, it was time to explore pain and pleasure. Spanking and tit twisting were going to the top of the menu. It was going to be a long night.
I learned something for real that night: Michela and Kylie could be kinky, with Kylie being super kinky. Everything I did somehow excited or aroused her. For Michela, I wasn't certain what to expect; it was all new to her. She liked nearly everything I did except the breathplay and the already discussed carpet though.
Afterwards, I untied them, and we enjoyed a true nude threesome, and man was that fun! So many things I could say, but… what really mattered was seeing Michela keep up her vitality throughout the night. Never once did she fade up out long term. I was doing something right, or someone in this house was. Michela was regaining her grip on her own spirit, taking it back from the man who tried to destroy her, enough that she could feel safe and comfortable again in her own home.
We were winning.
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Due to the emotional depth of these concluding chapters, the interludes and polls will no longer continue. This part of my story needs to be one continuous chunk.
CGC Short Stories (F+f+/F+f+): viewtopic.php?f=8&t=20527
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
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harveygasson
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 1374
- Joined: 6 years ago
Very much enjoying this and interested to see where you go now.
Great update!! I'm cheering for Michela!!
@charliesmith, @silvertejp590, @SquidIncMaster, @Switcher1313, @The G-Man, @Caesar73, @Lucky Lottie, @Phantomette, @0Kay, @Yewteed, @Solarbeast, @GreyLord, @Kinky_boi,@harveygasson, @hafnermg, @johopp, @Bilmik
@DommeKirsten and @lanadelgagged I apologize for the tag, but I think you two would appreciate this tale and whatever sequels may arise from it.
Has anyone else cried yet?
Story 11 Chapter 1: The Custom
May 1, 2014
I am panting as my worn socks are shoved into my mouth. Duct tape wraps about my head 9 times to secure them into my mouth. My crossed wrists have already been put in layers of savage, violent duct tape. My arms are crushed against my torso on either side of my tits and at my waist. I’m wearing athletic shorts, so the tape on my thighs, ankles, and knees is right against my skin. My shirt and bra cut to expose my tits for my killer to grope before he snuffs me.
He has plans first though. He pulls down my shorts and panties and pushes his c-ck into my body, my unwilling body. He gets a huge thrill out of it, one of the heartiest pumps I ever got from him, right into my p-ssy. I’m slung over his shoulder and led to the basement, where I am taped to the water pipe. He leaves me to slowly starve to death down there.
“Hannah! Wake up!” I heard Michela's voice, and I saw we were in bed in the dark.
“Michela!” I burst into tears, “Will the nightmares ever end?!”
“I don't know,” she candidly admitted, “But I’m always here for you.”
“It was so real. Like it happened yesterday.”
“Quiet,” she brought our lips together, “You be the small spoon, OK?”
“OK,” I felt like a child in her mother's arms, “I love you.”
I felt desolate and dead just like then, and the feeling slowly faded.
May 7, 2014
The college semester had ended. My friends from Minnesota Tech were back home, which for some means no longer in Minnesota. I was sitting at home playing video games since I’d worked a morning shift. Michela, Luisa, Sofia, and I are enjoying ourselves when I get a phone call. It's Steve.
“Hi, Steve! It's been a few weeks! How are you?”
“Good, Hannah. Listen, we have work for you. A custom. You're a star. Can you drop by tomorrow morning?”
“I sure can! I don't have work tomorrow! Is 9 good?” I asked him.
“Sure! We’ll be ready! See you then!” he said.
“All right! See you!”
The last few weeks saw my friends all enjoy scenes, but I’d turned my one request down because I was focused on exams. I was financially stable now that I didn't have to worry any more, and I knew there'd be a next time. Bondage was always afoot for me anyway. A bondage party at Mary-Ann’s had happened; a real Cool Girls’ Club meeting had taken place to discuss our hopes for the summer. It was big and real!
Late spring had seen my skirts get shorter or replaced by shorts, but Michela remained a constant. Skirt or jeans for her and always a bandana headband unless she attended mass for which she wore kerchiefs. I was similarly always wearing a bandana; today, we were in bandana teams. Luisa and I had blue kerchiefs; Michela and Sofia had red headbands. We enjoyed our little party games.
It was beautiful to see. No love had been lost between the sisters despite the four year period in which they’d been deprived of each other. Michela had shot their father; did that make her a hero in their eyes once they understood what had happened? Really, it didn't matter; I was their sister's best friend and loved like one of the family.
In recent weeks, big things happened here. The basement had been gutted for all new floors, new lights, and fresh, bright paint. The room had gone from the location of our beloved Michela's torture to a new space. It was where we sat now, in fact. Gone was all the old furniture; nothing remained of the crime scene.
This place now featured two large matching sofas, a TV console, and so forth. It was now the room where the girls could hide when they had friends visiting or, since such was a problem here in Minnesota, hide during severe thunderstorms and tornadoes. I had hidden from many storms in my lifetime, but some followed me everywhere with a vengeance. The girls normally kept the video game console in the family room, but we brought it down with us since Mom Palmeri insisted we be down here during any and all active warnings.
“Dang it,” my phone rang again with a number I thought looked familiar, “Hello.”
“Hello? Miss Hannah Larsson?” a kindly feminine voice asked.
“Yes, this is Hannah. Who is this?”
“This is Veronica Stickel from the Minnesota Tech financial aid office…”
I couldn't believe my ears. Through a series of events, Minnesota Tech had an offer I knew I shouldn't refuse thanks, in part, to the College of Psychology. My dream was coming true; I was going to get help and perhaps help others. After sharing my news with my present loved ones, I sent a text to two Facebook groups: Pod F 2013 and the Cool Girls’ Club.
May 8, 2014
“Good morning!” a singing voice greeted me from Luisa when I arrived.
“Hey, good morning, sweetie! What are you making?” I asked them.
“Where's Michela?” Luisa asked me, and I saw Mom must have left already.
“In the shower, but she’ll be down soon,” I smiled and sat at the table.
“Why do you and Michela share a bed?” Luisa asked me, “Michela says it's wrong.”
“Luisa, Michela was younger than you when your dad started hurting her.”
“I’m serious. Did she tell you why?” Luisa played hardball.
“Because she believes the sin of doing what she does with me is less than the sins she would commit without me.”
“You think it's because of Daddy?” she handled it well for a girl turning 16 this summer.
“I know it is. Luisa, I’m sorry. The Michela you knew before will never come back, but if we all work together she will be just as good and lovable.”
“I never loved her less for anything she's done. I think you're a good friend and truly care about her.”
It was a really messed up situation for real. This family had gone from a hockey star merely being punished for having sex with a boy to the father abusing that same girl to that same girl being in prison for four years for ending the abuse to that same girl now being in an open same sex relationship with her former cellmate. Despite their religious qualms, I was accepted as Michela’s best friend and lover.
“When Michela shot Dad,” Luisa paused, “It was terrifying. At first, I thought she'd gone crazy and was killing us all. Then Mom explained it all, more and more as I got older, and when I was 13 it all began to click. I learned really well.”
“How did you learn really well?” I asked the teenager.
“I learned so well that I did the same thing. Burned my virginity for my 14th.”
“Was this your way of spiting your father?” I understood her motives.
“No one knows but you and that boy. I hope Dad felt it when I did it.”
“You're more bitter than I realized,” I simply observed while she cooked the pancakes.
“Of course I’m bitter! My dad’s a psycho, and my sister is a shell of herself!”
“Your family is broken and hurt, but you're still together. I and a few of my friends have no family; our parents threw us out, abandoned us, or died.”
Luisa looked at me and sighed; I confused her in so many ways. I was her big sister’s live-in girlfriend despite everyone in this family firmly believing it was wrong, even Michela. But I was good to Michela and to them. I encouraged them in their beliefs despite having none of my own, yet. I was a true criminal who had reformed. Where in the sand was this line that Michela seemed to toe so dangerously?
Yet the girl respected me and seemed to see me as Michela did; a naturally good soul who just hadn't learned how to be good. My goodness outweighed the bad, it seemed. During our little game moments like yesterday, Luisa would often ask to team with me as if she admired me despite what she perceived as my flaws.
“Hannah, I’m glad you moved in,” she started, but then we heard Michela.
“Goooooood morning! How are my scholars?” the cheerful girl entered the room.
“Good morning, sis!” Luisa grinned.
“Someone's happy!” I said and got a kiss from her, and I saw Luisa smile at us.
“I’m happy for you!” my girlfriend explained, “It'll hurt seeing you go, but happiness for you will replace it.”
“I know… I know where I’ll be when I’m not at school though!”
I finally had a place where I was wanted and accepted and could call home. I wasn't a Palmeri or even Italian, but I was loved because Michela loved me. Perhaps that tells you just how good of a girl Michela is and was even before everything that happened.
If I were to say we were doing something that could be considered genuinely bad, the modeling was it. We were fapping dolls for men across the world, and I can't say that I saw it that way. Bondage is erotica, I get that, but I saw it more as being a damsel in distress than a fapping toy. The kidnapped girls in movies weren't there to make guys touch themselves.
My dear Michela was wearing blue jeans, a red t-shirt, and a black bandana headband this time. She smiled now and was aware of why she was smiling. She could look at me and smile because we were friends without the empty lust and passion. She was a new person, but she was still so much the same girl who fell in love with me in prison and who was taken from this house 4 years before.
“Did I interrupt anything?” the smiling hockey player asked us.
“Actually, yes,” Luisa smiled, “I was telling Hannah how happy all of us are that you have her in your life despite what we believe. We love having her.”
“Aw, Lulu, did you really say that?” Michela's eyes brightened.
“Yes, she did. I’m at home with your family.”
“Hannah, Mom will never say this, but thank you for all you've done for Michela. To have my hero back here and to see her smiling again means the world to me,” Luisa was more direct about her feelings than Michela or their mother.
“It's an honor,” I responded, “Michela isn't just a friend or a love interest. She's… the sister I never had.”
We held hands on the way to my dear old jalopy. It was a piece of crap compared to the sparkling machines in the driveway; it suited me just fine. I, too, had proven to be trustworthy under the rust, loose paint, and damaged metalwork. I held the door for my girlfriend and let her take a seat. How I loved loving and being loved, even by the people with whom I wasn't in a sexual relationship! The only problem was she stole the driving seat!
I wore what I call my “naughty schoolgirl skirt” because it's only knee length, plaid in a series of black and red, and a bit floppy. Of course I had a red bandana headband on my head, and I wore a white t-shirt with it. Red wasn't my best color, but I could get away with any color I wanted even if they didn't all look amazing on me.
“It was beautiful the day I opened the door to that old hovel and saw you standing on my front step,” I recalled that November day.
“And me begging you to come to my place for Thanksgiving.”
“And begging me to move out.”
“And you coming to my place for Thanksgiving… after we screwed.”
“‘It was fun, but we like boys more’ you said. Wrong!” I laughed at the memory.
“Hannah,” she seemed hurt by my laughter, “You still don't get it?!”
“What don't I get?” I felt small now.
“It's not a matter of if but when you sleep with a boy. Me, I don't know. Nick was an amazing boy, but… Daddy… Hannah… It's over for me. I probably can't have kids.”
“Truth be told, me neither. Greg wrecked me, but…”
“I know you want a family. I’m not breaking up with you! You get too much comfort out of the lesbian side of you, and so do I! Hell, you probably won't marry a guy if he won't let you occasionally play with me, and I feel the same way. You have a dream, and I'm not stopping you. I love you too much.”
“You love me more than I knew…,” she parked the car at Steve’s and put the sunblocker up.
“Do I ever,” she climbed on top of me, “It's wrong, but so good.”
That was the first time either of us performed a sexual act in a car. Michela controlled the entire moment, grinding me and kissing me all the way until we orgasmed. Like we cared about that. I was on my blob anyway and had a pad just in case. I realized I had to make the most of my time; she was right. I wanted kids; that meant a husband. I hoped to one day again have a c-ck inside me, and she fancied the thought herself. I admit we each have a dark and moving story about the days we respectively dared let a d-ck enter our bodies, but it's not for now.
Why did Michela let me live with her when she strongly believed that homosexuality was a sin? She clearly believed it wasn't a choice but was ingrained in us whether by genetics or as a response to our traumas. It wasn't just me, either; she loved Kylie in the erotic sense and had a crush on Cassie like I had on Joyce.
“Michela,” I took a big gulp, “I want to start going to church regularly.”
“A really bad time to say that,” she groaned, “We’ll talk after.”
“Mmmmm,” I got a big kiss on my lips, “All right.”
“Let’s sit back; see why I got you to leave early? Lose the buzz,” she admitted she tricked me.
“You know something, don’t you? Steve already told you about this custom.”
“Me? Well, of course we talked about it first, because he didn’t want to do a custom you’d hate.”
“You picked today because you know I’m reeling over my baby, didn’t you?”
I accepted that with confidence without knowing what the custom would be. Unlike some of my friends, I could handle a secret being kept from me when there was just cause. We held hands as we walked up to the door and were greeted by Marcy, who was as maternal and kind as ever. We were welcomed inside and asked to take a seat to talk business before the scene.
I took a seat and accepted the glass of orange juice that Marcy offered me. Michela sat next to me, and Steve took his usual place on his recliner. He took a sip from his own juice, and I never noticed just how healthily he personally ate when I was here until now. He had blue jeans, steel toe work boots, and a red t-shirt, and he put on his reading glasses after grabbing a manila folder. He took a piece of paper and began to describe the request to me.
The request was disgusting. It was a request for a damsel-in-distress scene in which I was quite rudely duct taped by Steve. During the scene, he’d come on camera to cut my shirt open, play with my breasts, and abandon me in a typical fashion. There was no way I would do that! I was not letting anyone, especially a man, duct tape me or cut my shirt open. It was over, and I put down my drink.
“No f-cking way,” I said bluntly and tersely, “Am I done, then?”
“Now, Hannah, wait a moment!” Michela kindly took my arm.
“NO! I am not doing it! You b-tch! You knew this and still let him ask me?!”
“Perhaps this is just what you need, like I needed that rubber dog ball gag!”
“I didn’t realize my execution was a fat f-cking joke to you!” I stood up despite her grip.
“It’s not! I love you, Hannah, and I want to see you take back your life from that d-ck!”
“Taped, r-ped, and left to die!” I shook with hysteria, “I barely lived! NO! NO! NOOOOO!”
Then I blacked out.
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I am panting as my worn socks are shoved into my mouth. Duct tape wraps about my head 9 times to secure them into my mouth. My crossed wrists have already been put in layers of savage, violent duct tape. My arms are crushed against my torso on either side of my tits and at my waist. I’m wearing athletic shorts, so the tape on my thighs, ankles, and knees is right against my skin. My shirt and bra cut to expose my tits for my killer to grope before he snuffs me.
He has plans first though. He pulls down my shorts and panties and pushes his c-ck into my body, my unwilling body. He gets a huge thrill out of it, one of the heartiest pumps I ever got from him, right into my p-ssy. I’m slung over his shoulder and led to the basement, where I am taped to the water pipe. He leaves me to slowly starve to death down there.
“Hannah! Wake up!” I heard Michela's voice, and I saw I’m on the Moreau's couch.
“Did I?” I rubbed my head.
“You had another panic attack, baby,” she said, “It's OK. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I pushed my hair out of my eyes.
“Because, Hannah, I made the custom request. I wanted to see you be happy like the girl I knew in juvie, and I pushed you too far.”
“Michela, you love me so much,” I sat up and kissed her cheek.
I feel this time the memory was different. I am in control. Just as Michela reclaimed her mouth, I could reclaim my former love of duct tape. I trusted Steve, unlike Greg, and I had both Marcy and Michela here to support me. I remembered how I escaped; how I freed Stacy; how I clubbed Greg with that trusty 2x4; how I led Stacy to safety since I knew which neighbors I trusted; how I was voluntarily homeless and living out of my car and chose to humble myself. Every step that got me from being a normal teenager to being here was a series of good and bad choices whether it was my choice or not. It was my choice. My baby didn’t get one. I had a choice not to do the custom, or I could choose to take over my mind and not forever associate duct tape with a cold blooded attempt on my life.
I stood up and began pacing while holding Michela’s hand. Steve and Marcy were sweet, kind, and patient not to throw me out for these repeated episodes. I was a mess, and I couldn’t help it if I was traumatized. I could, however, try to find an outlet or a pathway whereby I could enjoy something I formerly enjoyed. There was no guarantee doing this would work, but I couldn’t die unlike the last time.
“Steve,” I took off my bandana and looked him in the eye, “I’ll do it. Slowly.”
“Hannah, we will do anything to keep you comfortable,” he said.
“You care about me more than my biological parents,” my voice shook a little.
“You’re not the first girl who said that,” Marcy’s voice was even kinder.
“I’m going to go get something to wear,” I forced a smile, “Michela, would you please?”
“Of course, baby,” she took my hand and led me to the basement.
“I might need some encouragement,” I warned them that it might be a minute or two.
A brightly patterned skirt, a nice blue sweater, hose, blue heels, and two kisses from Michela bring it all together. I started shaking at the thought of being duct taped, and I clutched Michela like I clutched Achilles while in juvie. She gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead and whispered something in my ear. I stepped back and asked her to take a picture of me before I went upstairs to face my fears.
Greg was in prison; he had no possibility of parole. The man who beat me, killed my baby, taped me up, and tried to kill me could never hurt me again. If I could face a little roll of duct tape, I’d be able to face anything with time. With my head held high, I let go of Michela and began going up the stairs. As Michela and I had learned in the bedroom, the tool isn’t evil; the user is. Duct tape isn’t evil; Greg is.
With a confident stride, I went back to my orange juice and finished the beverage I had forgotten during my panic attack. I turned to the Moreau’s; they waited for me to give the command. This had to happen on my terms, not theirs. After a hopeful smile from each of them, I decided it had to be done.
“Steve, the sooner you do it, the sooner I can look at Michela again and be comfortable.”
“Let’s go,” he took out the duct tape and began wrapping it around my arms.
“Michela!” I looked at her and started whimpering.
“It’s OK, see?” she said, and she even started taking her own photos of me.
“I’m OK,” I took a deep breath, “I’m OK!” and then I heard the tape snap.
“I have something special for your gag,” Michela took yesterday’s pink socks from her purse.
I instinctively open my mouth to the erotic thoughts of Michela’s socks. It had to be dirty socks, of course, just like Greg had done. But these were Michela’s socks, and I voluntarily took them into my mouth. They tasted so rancid, but they excited me. I loved being gagged with her socks so much that the tape didn’t seem so frightful anymore. Steve put strip after strip of tape on my lips.
More tape wrapped my torso and pushed my tits out. Oh, my tits were perking, and I focused on the girl who’d made this request for my sake. I had to look at her because otherwise I was going to have yet another panic attack. Why was I so scared? I shook violently, but I kept clearing my mind by focusing on her. She loved me; she wanted me to be well; she knew I needed this more than anything else.
Then the tape bound my ankles. Snap! I winced. Then it bound below my knees. Snap! Again, I wince and whimper. Then it wrapped around above my knees. Snap! The job is done, and I’m trying my best not to scream. It’s time to begin the film, which this time comes before the photo shoot. I take a deep breath and look at Michela, and Marcy starts filming.
“Mmmmm!” I started on the camera.
“No, worries, honey, let’s take you to the other room!” Steve picked me up.
“Noooo!” I cried into Michela’s socks while he slung me over his shoulder.
“Just a little transfer,” he said, “We’re already almost there.”
“EEEEEE!” I shrieked, and I’m dropped on the sofa.
“Enjoy your visit,” Steve cackled and left me alone.
I tried my best, and I kept myself from bursting into a fit of hysteria. Steve set up the camera for the photos, and Marcy kept filming my suffering. I wailed a lot into those socks, let me tell you. I found my cries strangely comforting, and the presence of Michela helped matters.
I struggled, swinging my arms left and right, trying to pick at the tape on my legs or loosen that on my arms. I throw my legs up on the sofa, and some of the crying I do is quite real. There has to be a way out of this. The goal of the film is to try to get out or fail trying. I’m failing, but that day one year ago I succeed!
Greg… I thought you loved me. We had so much fun making that baby. I was taped just in the way I asked you to do. Then we passionately kissed (well, you did) while you explored my body with your c-ck. It was so arousing, so beautiful. You never loved me for a moment! You forced me to kill our baby! That baby did nothing to you! You just enjoyed my looks, the sex, and the free p-rn you made from our sessions. F-ck you! I hate you!
I twisted about and even grabbed my own tit. That baby was hard. I was somehow a bit aroused while stressed; hormones at work. I dropped to my knees on the carpet and started choking up a bit. What a fool I had been. I should have done what all of my friends said and stayed with my grandma; Greg hadn’t bothered me after I’d been sprung from juvie. In fact, he seemed fine with the situation since he knew I wouldn’t squawk to the police and risk my own self as his principal accomplice. Tears rolled down my cheeks while I recalled my foolishness, and I turned away from the camera.
I wiped my tears on the sofa. Those tears were tears of sorrow, for the months of friendship that I deprived myself and, especially, Mary-Ann and Kendra. M.A. and Kenny needed me so much at that time, and I wasn’t there for them. Instead, I hid from them until they all tracked me down because they believed I could be someone good. All this time I had been suffering because every person believed in me except for me.
“MMMMMMMM!” I yelled and resumed my struggle.
I was a human. I was no longer just a piece of flotsam that had been f-cked and left to die by a psychopath. I was loved. I had so many friends–Ashley, Casey, Cassie, Emilia, Jenny, Joyce, Kendra, Kylie, Mary-Ann, Michela, Nichole–people who loved me. I had Grandma Larsson. I had Luisa and Sofia. My life mattered! They all believed I was special; I loved all of them back.
“GAH!” I rolled around so I was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa now.
Most of all, I had Michela. We were nothing without each other, and now we were something again only because of each other. We saved each other’s lives from a hopeless spiraling descent into madness. I loved her so much; she was beautiful inside and out. We were more than simply best friends; we were sisters from different parents. I had that ally that would forgive me every sin I committed and would love me to my dying breath just like Jenny and Nichole had in each other.
“Mmmmm!” I moved my body about in my bondage.
On top of all this, I was a beautiful damsel-in-distress, a bondagette. I was not just F09, prisoner JF11120288, from the Mudville Juvenile Detention Center, the 288th girl incarcerated there at least temporarily in 2012, booked in November. I was a model, and I was a damned good one at that. I starred in the photoset that was the top seller for April 2015. I was a college student, too, and soon to be a Minnesota Tech Eagle. I had a life to live!
“MMMMMM!” I rolled back up onto the sofa, and I fell to the floor.
“MMM!” I grip my heels and let out one last great wail for the camera, but I’m not done yet.
“Come here, gorgeous!” Steve came over and cut the shirt open.
“NOOOO!” I yelled at him and looked at Michela for moral support.
“Nice tits, hot stuff,” he fondled me a little and left.
“Mmmmmmm!” I continued and took my heels off.
I escaped my first experience with death by finding a sharp piece of metal on the floor and chopping the duct tape that had left me to die. Now, I look at Michela, and I feel excitement in me. I escaped my first experience with life by taking my heel and punching it through the tape that bound my arms behind my back. Greg is gone; Hannah is here. I may have been left to die, but I have escaped you again, Greg Lofton. I might never make the nightmares go away, but I can end the grip you have on my mind and soul. Be gone, you piece of sh-t!
“GRM!” I tore the tape off me, looked at the camera, flipped the bird, and unpeeled the gag.
“Hannah!” Michela runs over as I pull out her socks, and we erotically kiss, “You did it!”
“I did!” I embraced her and fell on top of her in the most satisfying kiss we ever shared.
“I’m so proud of you! Baby! I love you so much!”
“He’s gone! He’s gone! I have my life back! Thank you!” and I started crying and holding her.
“Those are tears of joy,” Michela let me clutch her just like we had in the basement.
“Mmmm hmmm!” I nodded and buried my face in her chest.
“I’m calling up all the girls! The CGC, Pod F! We have to celebrate! Hannah, you won! This is so much bigger than Minn Tech! You exorcised the demons! You’re free!”
I won! This was a cause for celebration! Michela excitedly posted one of the pictures she took of me to both the CGC and Pod F groups and told them all to meet us for dinner if they were able to do so. We were going to party in our own little way, and then she revealed just how much she believed in my ability to succeed.
“I already counted up our friends and reserved that many seats for us at a restaurant and a couple more just in case I forgot anyone.”
“You’re the best!” I said, and my phone rang; Michela handed me my phone with a Minneapolis number, “Hello?”
“Is this Hannah?” I heard the voice, of all people, of Cassie.
“Cassie, is that you?” I asked in surprise while Michela finished freeing me from the tape.
“It is! Hannah! OMG! You did it! We’re so proud of you! We knew it would work!”
“What do you mean?” I stood up and stretched, “How did you know about this?!”
“Because me, Millie, and Joyce helped Michela form the idea, silly!” she explained, “She loves you so much that after our last scene she exchanged contact with us to get our opinions on how to help you. Oh, Hannah, it’s an honor to see you change so much over the past month!”
“It would mean a lot to me if you came to the party tonight,” I sheepishly said the words.
“I already made plans. Unfortunately, Millie and Joyce went home already.”
“The last six months I have made or renewed so many friendships. It’s like magic.”
So many friends. So much love. I went from friendless, desolate, and scared to surrounded by so many amazing people. It all happened because of two people, Michela Palmeri and Casey Clark, who believed in me and relentlessly sought me out because they knew I could reach a moment such as this.
Thank you for believing in me.
@DommeKirsten and @lanadelgagged I apologize for the tag, but I think you two would appreciate this tale and whatever sequels may arise from it.
Has anyone else cried yet?
Story 11 Chapter 1: The Custom
May 1, 2014
I am panting as my worn socks are shoved into my mouth. Duct tape wraps about my head 9 times to secure them into my mouth. My crossed wrists have already been put in layers of savage, violent duct tape. My arms are crushed against my torso on either side of my tits and at my waist. I’m wearing athletic shorts, so the tape on my thighs, ankles, and knees is right against my skin. My shirt and bra cut to expose my tits for my killer to grope before he snuffs me.
He has plans first though. He pulls down my shorts and panties and pushes his c-ck into my body, my unwilling body. He gets a huge thrill out of it, one of the heartiest pumps I ever got from him, right into my p-ssy. I’m slung over his shoulder and led to the basement, where I am taped to the water pipe. He leaves me to slowly starve to death down there.
“Hannah! Wake up!” I heard Michela's voice, and I saw we were in bed in the dark.
“Michela!” I burst into tears, “Will the nightmares ever end?!”
“I don't know,” she candidly admitted, “But I’m always here for you.”
“It was so real. Like it happened yesterday.”
“Quiet,” she brought our lips together, “You be the small spoon, OK?”
“OK,” I felt like a child in her mother's arms, “I love you.”
I felt desolate and dead just like then, and the feeling slowly faded.
May 7, 2014
The college semester had ended. My friends from Minnesota Tech were back home, which for some means no longer in Minnesota. I was sitting at home playing video games since I’d worked a morning shift. Michela, Luisa, Sofia, and I are enjoying ourselves when I get a phone call. It's Steve.
“Hi, Steve! It's been a few weeks! How are you?”
“Good, Hannah. Listen, we have work for you. A custom. You're a star. Can you drop by tomorrow morning?”
“I sure can! I don't have work tomorrow! Is 9 good?” I asked him.
“Sure! We’ll be ready! See you then!” he said.
“All right! See you!”
The last few weeks saw my friends all enjoy scenes, but I’d turned my one request down because I was focused on exams. I was financially stable now that I didn't have to worry any more, and I knew there'd be a next time. Bondage was always afoot for me anyway. A bondage party at Mary-Ann’s had happened; a real Cool Girls’ Club meeting had taken place to discuss our hopes for the summer. It was big and real!
Late spring had seen my skirts get shorter or replaced by shorts, but Michela remained a constant. Skirt or jeans for her and always a bandana headband unless she attended mass for which she wore kerchiefs. I was similarly always wearing a bandana; today, we were in bandana teams. Luisa and I had blue kerchiefs; Michela and Sofia had red headbands. We enjoyed our little party games.
It was beautiful to see. No love had been lost between the sisters despite the four year period in which they’d been deprived of each other. Michela had shot their father; did that make her a hero in their eyes once they understood what had happened? Really, it didn't matter; I was their sister's best friend and loved like one of the family.
In recent weeks, big things happened here. The basement had been gutted for all new floors, new lights, and fresh, bright paint. The room had gone from the location of our beloved Michela's torture to a new space. It was where we sat now, in fact. Gone was all the old furniture; nothing remained of the crime scene.
This place now featured two large matching sofas, a TV console, and so forth. It was now the room where the girls could hide when they had friends visiting or, since such was a problem here in Minnesota, hide during severe thunderstorms and tornadoes. I had hidden from many storms in my lifetime, but some followed me everywhere with a vengeance. The girls normally kept the video game console in the family room, but we brought it down with us since Mom Palmeri insisted we be down here during any and all active warnings.
“Dang it,” my phone rang again with a number I thought looked familiar, “Hello.”
“Hello? Miss Hannah Larsson?” a kindly feminine voice asked.
“Yes, this is Hannah. Who is this?”
“This is Veronica Stickel from the Minnesota Tech financial aid office…”
I couldn't believe my ears. Through a series of events, Minnesota Tech had an offer I knew I shouldn't refuse thanks, in part, to the College of Psychology. My dream was coming true; I was going to get help and perhaps help others. After sharing my news with my present loved ones, I sent a text to two Facebook groups: Pod F 2013 and the Cool Girls’ Club.
May 8, 2014
“Good morning!” a singing voice greeted me from Luisa when I arrived.
“Hey, good morning, sweetie! What are you making?” I asked them.
“Where's Michela?” Luisa asked me, and I saw Mom must have left already.
“In the shower, but she’ll be down soon,” I smiled and sat at the table.
“Why do you and Michela share a bed?” Luisa asked me, “Michela says it's wrong.”
“Luisa, Michela was younger than you when your dad started hurting her.”
“I’m serious. Did she tell you why?” Luisa played hardball.
“Because she believes the sin of doing what she does with me is less than the sins she would commit without me.”
“You think it's because of Daddy?” she handled it well for a girl turning 16 this summer.
“I know it is. Luisa, I’m sorry. The Michela you knew before will never come back, but if we all work together she will be just as good and lovable.”
“I never loved her less for anything she's done. I think you're a good friend and truly care about her.”
It was a really messed up situation for real. This family had gone from a hockey star merely being punished for having sex with a boy to the father abusing that same girl to that same girl being in prison for four years for ending the abuse to that same girl now being in an open same sex relationship with her former cellmate. Despite their religious qualms, I was accepted as Michela’s best friend and lover.
“When Michela shot Dad,” Luisa paused, “It was terrifying. At first, I thought she'd gone crazy and was killing us all. Then Mom explained it all, more and more as I got older, and when I was 13 it all began to click. I learned really well.”
“How did you learn really well?” I asked the teenager.
“I learned so well that I did the same thing. Burned my virginity for my 14th.”
“Was this your way of spiting your father?” I understood her motives.
“No one knows but you and that boy. I hope Dad felt it when I did it.”
“You're more bitter than I realized,” I simply observed while she cooked the pancakes.
“Of course I’m bitter! My dad’s a psycho, and my sister is a shell of herself!”
“Your family is broken and hurt, but you're still together. I and a few of my friends have no family; our parents threw us out, abandoned us, or died.”
Luisa looked at me and sighed; I confused her in so many ways. I was her big sister’s live-in girlfriend despite everyone in this family firmly believing it was wrong, even Michela. But I was good to Michela and to them. I encouraged them in their beliefs despite having none of my own, yet. I was a true criminal who had reformed. Where in the sand was this line that Michela seemed to toe so dangerously?
Yet the girl respected me and seemed to see me as Michela did; a naturally good soul who just hadn't learned how to be good. My goodness outweighed the bad, it seemed. During our little game moments like yesterday, Luisa would often ask to team with me as if she admired me despite what she perceived as my flaws.
“Hannah, I’m glad you moved in,” she started, but then we heard Michela.
“Goooooood morning! How are my scholars?” the cheerful girl entered the room.
“Good morning, sis!” Luisa grinned.
“Someone's happy!” I said and got a kiss from her, and I saw Luisa smile at us.
“I’m happy for you!” my girlfriend explained, “It'll hurt seeing you go, but happiness for you will replace it.”
“I know… I know where I’ll be when I’m not at school though!”
I finally had a place where I was wanted and accepted and could call home. I wasn't a Palmeri or even Italian, but I was loved because Michela loved me. Perhaps that tells you just how good of a girl Michela is and was even before everything that happened.
If I were to say we were doing something that could be considered genuinely bad, the modeling was it. We were fapping dolls for men across the world, and I can't say that I saw it that way. Bondage is erotica, I get that, but I saw it more as being a damsel in distress than a fapping toy. The kidnapped girls in movies weren't there to make guys touch themselves.
My dear Michela was wearing blue jeans, a red t-shirt, and a black bandana headband this time. She smiled now and was aware of why she was smiling. She could look at me and smile because we were friends without the empty lust and passion. She was a new person, but she was still so much the same girl who fell in love with me in prison and who was taken from this house 4 years before.
“Did I interrupt anything?” the smiling hockey player asked us.
“Actually, yes,” Luisa smiled, “I was telling Hannah how happy all of us are that you have her in your life despite what we believe. We love having her.”
“Aw, Lulu, did you really say that?” Michela's eyes brightened.
“Yes, she did. I’m at home with your family.”
“Hannah, Mom will never say this, but thank you for all you've done for Michela. To have my hero back here and to see her smiling again means the world to me,” Luisa was more direct about her feelings than Michela or their mother.
“It's an honor,” I responded, “Michela isn't just a friend or a love interest. She's… the sister I never had.”
We held hands on the way to my dear old jalopy. It was a piece of crap compared to the sparkling machines in the driveway; it suited me just fine. I, too, had proven to be trustworthy under the rust, loose paint, and damaged metalwork. I held the door for my girlfriend and let her take a seat. How I loved loving and being loved, even by the people with whom I wasn't in a sexual relationship! The only problem was she stole the driving seat!
I wore what I call my “naughty schoolgirl skirt” because it's only knee length, plaid in a series of black and red, and a bit floppy. Of course I had a red bandana headband on my head, and I wore a white t-shirt with it. Red wasn't my best color, but I could get away with any color I wanted even if they didn't all look amazing on me.
“It was beautiful the day I opened the door to that old hovel and saw you standing on my front step,” I recalled that November day.
“And me begging you to come to my place for Thanksgiving.”
“And begging me to move out.”
“And you coming to my place for Thanksgiving… after we screwed.”
“‘It was fun, but we like boys more’ you said. Wrong!” I laughed at the memory.
“Hannah,” she seemed hurt by my laughter, “You still don't get it?!”
“What don't I get?” I felt small now.
“It's not a matter of if but when you sleep with a boy. Me, I don't know. Nick was an amazing boy, but… Daddy… Hannah… It's over for me. I probably can't have kids.”
“Truth be told, me neither. Greg wrecked me, but…”
“I know you want a family. I’m not breaking up with you! You get too much comfort out of the lesbian side of you, and so do I! Hell, you probably won't marry a guy if he won't let you occasionally play with me, and I feel the same way. You have a dream, and I'm not stopping you. I love you too much.”
“You love me more than I knew…,” she parked the car at Steve’s and put the sunblocker up.
“Do I ever,” she climbed on top of me, “It's wrong, but so good.”
That was the first time either of us performed a sexual act in a car. Michela controlled the entire moment, grinding me and kissing me all the way until we orgasmed. Like we cared about that. I was on my blob anyway and had a pad just in case. I realized I had to make the most of my time; she was right. I wanted kids; that meant a husband. I hoped to one day again have a c-ck inside me, and she fancied the thought herself. I admit we each have a dark and moving story about the days we respectively dared let a d-ck enter our bodies, but it's not for now.
Why did Michela let me live with her when she strongly believed that homosexuality was a sin? She clearly believed it wasn't a choice but was ingrained in us whether by genetics or as a response to our traumas. It wasn't just me, either; she loved Kylie in the erotic sense and had a crush on Cassie like I had on Joyce.
“Michela,” I took a big gulp, “I want to start going to church regularly.”
“A really bad time to say that,” she groaned, “We’ll talk after.”
“Mmmmm,” I got a big kiss on my lips, “All right.”
“Let’s sit back; see why I got you to leave early? Lose the buzz,” she admitted she tricked me.
“You know something, don’t you? Steve already told you about this custom.”
“Me? Well, of course we talked about it first, because he didn’t want to do a custom you’d hate.”
“You picked today because you know I’m reeling over my baby, didn’t you?”
I accepted that with confidence without knowing what the custom would be. Unlike some of my friends, I could handle a secret being kept from me when there was just cause. We held hands as we walked up to the door and were greeted by Marcy, who was as maternal and kind as ever. We were welcomed inside and asked to take a seat to talk business before the scene.
I took a seat and accepted the glass of orange juice that Marcy offered me. Michela sat next to me, and Steve took his usual place on his recliner. He took a sip from his own juice, and I never noticed just how healthily he personally ate when I was here until now. He had blue jeans, steel toe work boots, and a red t-shirt, and he put on his reading glasses after grabbing a manila folder. He took a piece of paper and began to describe the request to me.
The request was disgusting. It was a request for a damsel-in-distress scene in which I was quite rudely duct taped by Steve. During the scene, he’d come on camera to cut my shirt open, play with my breasts, and abandon me in a typical fashion. There was no way I would do that! I was not letting anyone, especially a man, duct tape me or cut my shirt open. It was over, and I put down my drink.
“No f-cking way,” I said bluntly and tersely, “Am I done, then?”
“Now, Hannah, wait a moment!” Michela kindly took my arm.
“NO! I am not doing it! You b-tch! You knew this and still let him ask me?!”
“Perhaps this is just what you need, like I needed that rubber dog ball gag!”
“I didn’t realize my execution was a fat f-cking joke to you!” I stood up despite her grip.
“It’s not! I love you, Hannah, and I want to see you take back your life from that d-ck!”
“Taped, r-ped, and left to die!” I shook with hysteria, “I barely lived! NO! NO! NOOOOO!”
Then I blacked out.
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I am panting as my worn socks are shoved into my mouth. Duct tape wraps about my head 9 times to secure them into my mouth. My crossed wrists have already been put in layers of savage, violent duct tape. My arms are crushed against my torso on either side of my tits and at my waist. I’m wearing athletic shorts, so the tape on my thighs, ankles, and knees is right against my skin. My shirt and bra cut to expose my tits for my killer to grope before he snuffs me.
He has plans first though. He pulls down my shorts and panties and pushes his c-ck into my body, my unwilling body. He gets a huge thrill out of it, one of the heartiest pumps I ever got from him, right into my p-ssy. I’m slung over his shoulder and led to the basement, where I am taped to the water pipe. He leaves me to slowly starve to death down there.
“Hannah! Wake up!” I heard Michela's voice, and I saw I’m on the Moreau's couch.
“Did I?” I rubbed my head.
“You had another panic attack, baby,” she said, “It's OK. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I pushed my hair out of my eyes.
“Because, Hannah, I made the custom request. I wanted to see you be happy like the girl I knew in juvie, and I pushed you too far.”
“Michela, you love me so much,” I sat up and kissed her cheek.
I feel this time the memory was different. I am in control. Just as Michela reclaimed her mouth, I could reclaim my former love of duct tape. I trusted Steve, unlike Greg, and I had both Marcy and Michela here to support me. I remembered how I escaped; how I freed Stacy; how I clubbed Greg with that trusty 2x4; how I led Stacy to safety since I knew which neighbors I trusted; how I was voluntarily homeless and living out of my car and chose to humble myself. Every step that got me from being a normal teenager to being here was a series of good and bad choices whether it was my choice or not. It was my choice. My baby didn’t get one. I had a choice not to do the custom, or I could choose to take over my mind and not forever associate duct tape with a cold blooded attempt on my life.
I stood up and began pacing while holding Michela’s hand. Steve and Marcy were sweet, kind, and patient not to throw me out for these repeated episodes. I was a mess, and I couldn’t help it if I was traumatized. I could, however, try to find an outlet or a pathway whereby I could enjoy something I formerly enjoyed. There was no guarantee doing this would work, but I couldn’t die unlike the last time.
“Steve,” I took off my bandana and looked him in the eye, “I’ll do it. Slowly.”
“Hannah, we will do anything to keep you comfortable,” he said.
“You care about me more than my biological parents,” my voice shook a little.
“You’re not the first girl who said that,” Marcy’s voice was even kinder.
“I’m going to go get something to wear,” I forced a smile, “Michela, would you please?”
“Of course, baby,” she took my hand and led me to the basement.
“I might need some encouragement,” I warned them that it might be a minute or two.
A brightly patterned skirt, a nice blue sweater, hose, blue heels, and two kisses from Michela bring it all together. I started shaking at the thought of being duct taped, and I clutched Michela like I clutched Achilles while in juvie. She gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead and whispered something in my ear. I stepped back and asked her to take a picture of me before I went upstairs to face my fears.
Greg was in prison; he had no possibility of parole. The man who beat me, killed my baby, taped me up, and tried to kill me could never hurt me again. If I could face a little roll of duct tape, I’d be able to face anything with time. With my head held high, I let go of Michela and began going up the stairs. As Michela and I had learned in the bedroom, the tool isn’t evil; the user is. Duct tape isn’t evil; Greg is.
With a confident stride, I went back to my orange juice and finished the beverage I had forgotten during my panic attack. I turned to the Moreau’s; they waited for me to give the command. This had to happen on my terms, not theirs. After a hopeful smile from each of them, I decided it had to be done.
“Steve, the sooner you do it, the sooner I can look at Michela again and be comfortable.”
“Let’s go,” he took out the duct tape and began wrapping it around my arms.
“Michela!” I looked at her and started whimpering.
“It’s OK, see?” she said, and she even started taking her own photos of me.
“I’m OK,” I took a deep breath, “I’m OK!” and then I heard the tape snap.
“I have something special for your gag,” Michela took yesterday’s pink socks from her purse.
I instinctively open my mouth to the erotic thoughts of Michela’s socks. It had to be dirty socks, of course, just like Greg had done. But these were Michela’s socks, and I voluntarily took them into my mouth. They tasted so rancid, but they excited me. I loved being gagged with her socks so much that the tape didn’t seem so frightful anymore. Steve put strip after strip of tape on my lips.
More tape wrapped my torso and pushed my tits out. Oh, my tits were perking, and I focused on the girl who’d made this request for my sake. I had to look at her because otherwise I was going to have yet another panic attack. Why was I so scared? I shook violently, but I kept clearing my mind by focusing on her. She loved me; she wanted me to be well; she knew I needed this more than anything else.
Then the tape bound my ankles. Snap! I winced. Then it bound below my knees. Snap! Again, I wince and whimper. Then it wrapped around above my knees. Snap! The job is done, and I’m trying my best not to scream. It’s time to begin the film, which this time comes before the photo shoot. I take a deep breath and look at Michela, and Marcy starts filming.
“Mmmmm!” I started on the camera.
“No, worries, honey, let’s take you to the other room!” Steve picked me up.
“Noooo!” I cried into Michela’s socks while he slung me over his shoulder.
“Just a little transfer,” he said, “We’re already almost there.”
“EEEEEE!” I shrieked, and I’m dropped on the sofa.
“Enjoy your visit,” Steve cackled and left me alone.
I tried my best, and I kept myself from bursting into a fit of hysteria. Steve set up the camera for the photos, and Marcy kept filming my suffering. I wailed a lot into those socks, let me tell you. I found my cries strangely comforting, and the presence of Michela helped matters.
I struggled, swinging my arms left and right, trying to pick at the tape on my legs or loosen that on my arms. I throw my legs up on the sofa, and some of the crying I do is quite real. There has to be a way out of this. The goal of the film is to try to get out or fail trying. I’m failing, but that day one year ago I succeed!
Greg… I thought you loved me. We had so much fun making that baby. I was taped just in the way I asked you to do. Then we passionately kissed (well, you did) while you explored my body with your c-ck. It was so arousing, so beautiful. You never loved me for a moment! You forced me to kill our baby! That baby did nothing to you! You just enjoyed my looks, the sex, and the free p-rn you made from our sessions. F-ck you! I hate you!
I twisted about and even grabbed my own tit. That baby was hard. I was somehow a bit aroused while stressed; hormones at work. I dropped to my knees on the carpet and started choking up a bit. What a fool I had been. I should have done what all of my friends said and stayed with my grandma; Greg hadn’t bothered me after I’d been sprung from juvie. In fact, he seemed fine with the situation since he knew I wouldn’t squawk to the police and risk my own self as his principal accomplice. Tears rolled down my cheeks while I recalled my foolishness, and I turned away from the camera.
I wiped my tears on the sofa. Those tears were tears of sorrow, for the months of friendship that I deprived myself and, especially, Mary-Ann and Kendra. M.A. and Kenny needed me so much at that time, and I wasn’t there for them. Instead, I hid from them until they all tracked me down because they believed I could be someone good. All this time I had been suffering because every person believed in me except for me.
“MMMMMMMM!” I yelled and resumed my struggle.
I was a human. I was no longer just a piece of flotsam that had been f-cked and left to die by a psychopath. I was loved. I had so many friends–Ashley, Casey, Cassie, Emilia, Jenny, Joyce, Kendra, Kylie, Mary-Ann, Michela, Nichole–people who loved me. I had Grandma Larsson. I had Luisa and Sofia. My life mattered! They all believed I was special; I loved all of them back.
“GAH!” I rolled around so I was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa now.
Most of all, I had Michela. We were nothing without each other, and now we were something again only because of each other. We saved each other’s lives from a hopeless spiraling descent into madness. I loved her so much; she was beautiful inside and out. We were more than simply best friends; we were sisters from different parents. I had that ally that would forgive me every sin I committed and would love me to my dying breath just like Jenny and Nichole had in each other.
“Mmmmm!” I moved my body about in my bondage.
On top of all this, I was a beautiful damsel-in-distress, a bondagette. I was not just F09, prisoner JF11120288, from the Mudville Juvenile Detention Center, the 288th girl incarcerated there at least temporarily in 2012, booked in November. I was a model, and I was a damned good one at that. I starred in the photoset that was the top seller for April 2015. I was a college student, too, and soon to be a Minnesota Tech Eagle. I had a life to live!
“MMMMMM!” I rolled back up onto the sofa, and I fell to the floor.
“MMM!” I grip my heels and let out one last great wail for the camera, but I’m not done yet.
“Come here, gorgeous!” Steve came over and cut the shirt open.
“NOOOO!” I yelled at him and looked at Michela for moral support.
“Nice tits, hot stuff,” he fondled me a little and left.
“Mmmmmmm!” I continued and took my heels off.
I escaped my first experience with death by finding a sharp piece of metal on the floor and chopping the duct tape that had left me to die. Now, I look at Michela, and I feel excitement in me. I escaped my first experience with life by taking my heel and punching it through the tape that bound my arms behind my back. Greg is gone; Hannah is here. I may have been left to die, but I have escaped you again, Greg Lofton. I might never make the nightmares go away, but I can end the grip you have on my mind and soul. Be gone, you piece of sh-t!
“GRM!” I tore the tape off me, looked at the camera, flipped the bird, and unpeeled the gag.
“Hannah!” Michela runs over as I pull out her socks, and we erotically kiss, “You did it!”
“I did!” I embraced her and fell on top of her in the most satisfying kiss we ever shared.
“I’m so proud of you! Baby! I love you so much!”
“He’s gone! He’s gone! I have my life back! Thank you!” and I started crying and holding her.
“Those are tears of joy,” Michela let me clutch her just like we had in the basement.
“Mmmm hmmm!” I nodded and buried my face in her chest.
“I’m calling up all the girls! The CGC, Pod F! We have to celebrate! Hannah, you won! This is so much bigger than Minn Tech! You exorcised the demons! You’re free!”
I won! This was a cause for celebration! Michela excitedly posted one of the pictures she took of me to both the CGC and Pod F groups and told them all to meet us for dinner if they were able to do so. We were going to party in our own little way, and then she revealed just how much she believed in my ability to succeed.
“I already counted up our friends and reserved that many seats for us at a restaurant and a couple more just in case I forgot anyone.”
“You’re the best!” I said, and my phone rang; Michela handed me my phone with a Minneapolis number, “Hello?”
“Is this Hannah?” I heard the voice, of all people, of Cassie.
“Cassie, is that you?” I asked in surprise while Michela finished freeing me from the tape.
“It is! Hannah! OMG! You did it! We’re so proud of you! We knew it would work!”
“What do you mean?” I stood up and stretched, “How did you know about this?!”
“Because me, Millie, and Joyce helped Michela form the idea, silly!” she explained, “She loves you so much that after our last scene she exchanged contact with us to get our opinions on how to help you. Oh, Hannah, it’s an honor to see you change so much over the past month!”
“It would mean a lot to me if you came to the party tonight,” I sheepishly said the words.
“I already made plans. Unfortunately, Millie and Joyce went home already.”
“The last six months I have made or renewed so many friendships. It’s like magic.”
So many friends. So much love. I went from friendless, desolate, and scared to surrounded by so many amazing people. It all happened because of two people, Michela Palmeri and Casey Clark, who believed in me and relentlessly sought me out because they knew I could reach a moment such as this.
Thank you for believing in me.
CGC Short Stories (F+f+/F+f+): viewtopic.php?f=8&t=20527
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!