Plymouth isn't new, but I'm aware some of you may be. To her life and world. To which end I'll endeavour to describe past events where relevant.RB.
A Life in Bondage and Porn: Plymouth (MF+/F+) *NEW* another roll more chapters 26/04 *NEW*
A Life in Bondage and Porn: Plymouth (MF+/F+) *NEW* another roll more chapters 26/04 *NEW*
Plymouth isn't new, but I'm aware some of you may be. To her life and world. To which end I'll endeavour to describe past events where relevant.RB.
Last edited by RopeBunny 13 hours ago, edited 7 times in total.
001.
"Arthur?"
"Last time I checked." An easy smile, which I return, holding the front door open wider.
"Find me okay?"
"With the sat nav yeah." A nod out the window as we walk through to my kitchen. "This whole wood really yours?"
"Well. No." Gesturing to a seat at the table. "Coffee?"
"Please."
"It's a Forestry Commission property, which I manage."
"When you aren't shooting porn."
"When I'm not shooting porn." Arms folded beneath F cup canons that thrust out into the world, large and round. Pert. Leaning back against the counter, waiting on the kettle. "Quite an old name, Arthur."
"I'm lucky it wasn't Merlin." Smiling as I laugh, eyes going wide in disbelief. "No, really." Nodding. "My parents are heavily into all that. Arthur is the tame end of what they had in mind."
The kettle jets steam, getting louder announcing its readiness. I pour, setting down two mugs and sitting opposite, taking the chance to look.
Mid twenties like me, average height at just under six foot and with a chunky build. Thick arms and legs, muscle but with a layer- or two -of fat added, belly straining his blue jeans and black 'Iron Maiden' tee. Brown hair cut short around the sides, spiked but messy up top and stubble left to grow it looks like on purpose.
Inked arms, an assortment of designs: skulls and fish, words that might be lyrics, the St George's Cross flag half seen below the sleeve.
"So." Smiling, teasing. "What is it about tying me up that interests you?"
"Ha." Smiling back. No need to answer, it had been the first question I'd asked, that first meeting.
Jester's Revenge. My own long ago aborted attempt at starting a site, the idea becoming, recently like an itch. Growing until I couldn't not scratch.
So I advertised, for a rigger slash photographer. Male, because anytime I get too close to a girl it invariably gets.
Messy.
Arthur represents my first pick, young and keen. We'd gotten along, no awkwardness so far having video called and shared a drink at his local.
A good- as if I'd need one but still -excuse to take the Hayabusa for a blast.
Where, the pub, I'd met his girlfriend too. And the fact of Arthur not being single, that she approves this venture, all stuff in the plus column.
Today represents the final test. We get along, but can we work together?
"And you definitely want to do this?" Looking over the written- scribbled -plan, a single sheet of paper, pushed across the table. "Straight in the deep end?"
"Sink or swim." A shrug, taking his metaphor and running with it. "Manage this, we'll be in-fucking-vincible."
"True." Tapping the paper, a nod, a smile. "Okay."
Simple logic, we go all out. The final test is a shoot, so we do everything turned up to eleven. And if it works, if Arthur manages and if working with him, allowing him to work on me feels right.
Then we're good.
Slight undercurrent of danger, of course. Arthur still in some respects an unknown despite digging and checking. Despite Daniel actually knowing the guy.
Which is a large part of why he's my first pick.
But. The ever present danger of placing my trust in another. At some point you've just got to say go, take the risk.
Might as well be today.
Drinking done we head outside. Owl Wood, which I solo manage the position comes with a house, on site beside which sits the storage shed. Barn like in size with large doors and a high curving roof. Easily three times the size required for the tractor, works pickup and tools stored inside.
Today though the vehicles are outside, opening up the space, freeing up the three wooden support pillars running in a line down the centre, the central of the three now sporting a loose ring of equipment.
Because I've half set up, wanting, allowing Arthur to finish based on his own knowledge and preferences.
"So." Patting the pillar as I stand slightly to one side, close. "Tie you to this, with rope?"
"Yes." Small tingle, probably some models aren't into the porn they shoot. Just a job, a paycheck. But I love bondage.
Despite being the cause of several downfalls in my life, I wouldn't, likely can't give it up.
"And then." Running a hand down the paper, glancing up to me. I nod. "Right."
"Come stand against this then." Paper folded and stuffed into a butt pocket, patting the pillar. "Let me work out the angles."
"Sure."
Tingle building slightly, watching Arthur move the two tripods: one for full frontal and the other a side view but slightly off, capturing the back too. Checking cables, nodding to himself the occasional quiet mutter.
"Okay. Um, Plymouth. We're ready."
"Great."
Plymouth, my superman double life, my porn name. Brooke becoming Plymouth, the line often blurring.
I strip, kicking off Adidas, shedding drawstring joggers and a loose tee to leave me naked. A skinny but toned six, tanned and near covered in ink though mostly on the left side: lighthouse drifting through clouds on my upper leg and a chained mermaid silhouette on the arm to name two of the bigger pieces.
Hair long and curling, tumbling a cascade of light blue with white tips.
Returning to the pillar, stepping back until I can feel rough wood on my butt and shoulders.
Reaching around as Arthur approaches, coiled rope dangling from both hands, finding my hands behind the pillar. Assuming the position.
But only just able to grasp fingertips, the pillar being thick.
"Plymouth?"
"No, it's." I'd gasped, pleasure and it's been awhile. Arthur's first loop around my wrists, tugging to force my limbs together yanking my arms back and pushing my chest out. "Carry on."
Letting out a shaky breath, I'd told him- being honest -that I'm into it.
Wrists bound, crossed. The long doubled up rope passed around the pillar too, fed between it and my butt, binding my wrists to the wood. A second rope around my waist, securing that to the pillar too.
Moving down, kneeling. Head level with my throbbing- in anticipation -crotch.
Binding my legs: ankle, knee and upper thigh, rope pinching and forcing the limbs tight together, wrapping the pillar too, of course. Preventing the escape I won't be seeking anyway.
Because it's a shoot.
But I probably wouldn't try to escape regardless.
Silly. Foolish- as has been proved -but true.
Upper body. Breasts being squeezed above and below, feeling myself forced back against the wood and, because we're going all out, Arthur uses more rope to wrap figure of eights around my F cups, squeezing them that much tighter, nipples becoming hypersensitive.
My whole body feeling like one constant tingle.
"You're okay?"
"Buzzing." Shaky laugh, Arthur smiles, nods understanding whether real or not.
"Yes. Though." Nodding. "Do the rest Arthur, I'm good. Thanks."
"Great." Tipping me a salute. Fetching more rope off the floor.
Which becomes my gag, no ball or scarf, no tape. The barn looks dirty, the floor oil stained and so I've spend some time messing this batch of rope up too, on purpose. Making it fit, the whole esthetic that I've been abandoned someplace dirty and old.
Opening wide, pleased to note that like all his bindings the gag is on the tight side. Real, not for show which I suppose some sites, riggers and models do. Maybe sometimes it looks real but isn't? Prehaps once the director yells 'cut' some models simply shrug the ropes off?
Not me. It has to be real too. I look helpless because I am helpless.
The rope digs in at the sides, pushing my tongue back and giving my face a naturally distressed look.
Perfect.
Arthur takes photos. Circling me, camera in hand picking and choosing angles. Standing and kneeling, two complete circuits just to be sure.
Moving in for closeups: my pussy, rope squeezed F cups nipples standing proud, my face, eyes wide, drooling.
A thumbs up. Photos done. Moving on.
To the ultimate test of compatibility, because yes he's touched my breasts. Multiple times so far whilst binding them, lifting and holding. But now Arthur fetches a wand vibrator, spending close to five minutes about the somewhat fiddly task of attaching it to my upper right leg in such a way that the bulbous head is nestled against my pussy and won't slip down once I begin struggling.
Just the feel of it, inactive yet a firm contact, pushing through my pussy lips and pressed on my clit. Just that and my breath has shallowed out, heart fluttering.
Anticipation.
Final check of his- fixed -cameras, a thumbs up.
"And we're rolling film Plymouth." Offering a smile, stepping back to lean against a workbench, my laptop there cables snaking from it to the equipment.
I give it a ten count, an old skill giving me, Arthur a chance to do a fade in, a chance to set the scene before I move.
Blinking as though waking, small wriggle and a serious of low moans. Eyes looking left, right and down. Taking it all in.
More small struggles and quiet moans as Arthur circles me again, capturing closeups stepping in shot, back out. We'll edit him out later. Standing right in front of me, slow pan up from pussy to face and I make sure to drool, to slow blink and moan. Eye contact with the camera.
I'm so tightly bound and gagged please help me.
Out of shot, remote in hand.
Sudden kick in my crotch as the vibrator buzzes to life, from nothing to full power in seconds my moans increasing with it.
Struggles too. Wriggling and fighting, seeking an impossible escape as though I don't actually want to climax all bound and forced to do so.
It's a hard life.
Screaming against the rope gag and thank fuck my house is quite far removed from the main woodland walking routes. The orgasm speeds through me, breathing like a freight train body locking at the moment of pleasure when on approach I'd been bucking, breasts bouncing up down up.
But there's no respite.
I'd told Arthur to leave the remote alone post orgasm. Because I'm pushing the limits, going all in.
Knowing the vibrator, buzzing angrily against my now becoming tender clit will force a second climax quite quickly.
My moaning becomes something more urgent, more pleading and- half real -begging then just pleasure, which is still there building fast only now I'm fighting against it more.
Whilst the first time around might play as my wanting it, now there's distress. Like I'm being used, abused and dominated. Forced. And a fair percentage of people who like bondage porn like the more extreme end.
They like, want to see this. Me, apparently, pushed into climaxing again despite not, apparently, wanting to.
An act. Of course.
I've had far worse done to me, and enjoyed it too.
Probably shouldn't admit such.
But the footage will play well, Plymouth forced to climax twice.
Naked.
Lashed to the pillar with dirty rope.
A good start.
And only the slightest feeling of sadness, freed and waving Arthur off, wishing I were still bound and gagged.
The old Plymouth curse, that I'm just dying to surrender, way too eager to become someone's bitch.
But not today.
"Arthur?"
"Last time I checked." An easy smile, which I return, holding the front door open wider.
"Find me okay?"
"With the sat nav yeah." A nod out the window as we walk through to my kitchen. "This whole wood really yours?"
"Well. No." Gesturing to a seat at the table. "Coffee?"
"Please."
"It's a Forestry Commission property, which I manage."
"When you aren't shooting porn."
"When I'm not shooting porn." Arms folded beneath F cup canons that thrust out into the world, large and round. Pert. Leaning back against the counter, waiting on the kettle. "Quite an old name, Arthur."
"I'm lucky it wasn't Merlin." Smiling as I laugh, eyes going wide in disbelief. "No, really." Nodding. "My parents are heavily into all that. Arthur is the tame end of what they had in mind."
The kettle jets steam, getting louder announcing its readiness. I pour, setting down two mugs and sitting opposite, taking the chance to look.
Mid twenties like me, average height at just under six foot and with a chunky build. Thick arms and legs, muscle but with a layer- or two -of fat added, belly straining his blue jeans and black 'Iron Maiden' tee. Brown hair cut short around the sides, spiked but messy up top and stubble left to grow it looks like on purpose.
Inked arms, an assortment of designs: skulls and fish, words that might be lyrics, the St George's Cross flag half seen below the sleeve.
"So." Smiling, teasing. "What is it about tying me up that interests you?"
"Ha." Smiling back. No need to answer, it had been the first question I'd asked, that first meeting.
Jester's Revenge. My own long ago aborted attempt at starting a site, the idea becoming, recently like an itch. Growing until I couldn't not scratch.
So I advertised, for a rigger slash photographer. Male, because anytime I get too close to a girl it invariably gets.
Messy.
Arthur represents my first pick, young and keen. We'd gotten along, no awkwardness so far having video called and shared a drink at his local.
A good- as if I'd need one but still -excuse to take the Hayabusa for a blast.
Where, the pub, I'd met his girlfriend too. And the fact of Arthur not being single, that she approves this venture, all stuff in the plus column.
Today represents the final test. We get along, but can we work together?
"And you definitely want to do this?" Looking over the written- scribbled -plan, a single sheet of paper, pushed across the table. "Straight in the deep end?"
"Sink or swim." A shrug, taking his metaphor and running with it. "Manage this, we'll be in-fucking-vincible."
"True." Tapping the paper, a nod, a smile. "Okay."
Simple logic, we go all out. The final test is a shoot, so we do everything turned up to eleven. And if it works, if Arthur manages and if working with him, allowing him to work on me feels right.
Then we're good.
Slight undercurrent of danger, of course. Arthur still in some respects an unknown despite digging and checking. Despite Daniel actually knowing the guy.
Which is a large part of why he's my first pick.
But. The ever present danger of placing my trust in another. At some point you've just got to say go, take the risk.
Might as well be today.
Drinking done we head outside. Owl Wood, which I solo manage the position comes with a house, on site beside which sits the storage shed. Barn like in size with large doors and a high curving roof. Easily three times the size required for the tractor, works pickup and tools stored inside.
Today though the vehicles are outside, opening up the space, freeing up the three wooden support pillars running in a line down the centre, the central of the three now sporting a loose ring of equipment.
Because I've half set up, wanting, allowing Arthur to finish based on his own knowledge and preferences.
"So." Patting the pillar as I stand slightly to one side, close. "Tie you to this, with rope?"
"Yes." Small tingle, probably some models aren't into the porn they shoot. Just a job, a paycheck. But I love bondage.
Despite being the cause of several downfalls in my life, I wouldn't, likely can't give it up.
"And then." Running a hand down the paper, glancing up to me. I nod. "Right."
"Come stand against this then." Paper folded and stuffed into a butt pocket, patting the pillar. "Let me work out the angles."
"Sure."
Tingle building slightly, watching Arthur move the two tripods: one for full frontal and the other a side view but slightly off, capturing the back too. Checking cables, nodding to himself the occasional quiet mutter.
"Okay. Um, Plymouth. We're ready."
"Great."
Plymouth, my superman double life, my porn name. Brooke becoming Plymouth, the line often blurring.
I strip, kicking off Adidas, shedding drawstring joggers and a loose tee to leave me naked. A skinny but toned six, tanned and near covered in ink though mostly on the left side: lighthouse drifting through clouds on my upper leg and a chained mermaid silhouette on the arm to name two of the bigger pieces.
Hair long and curling, tumbling a cascade of light blue with white tips.
Returning to the pillar, stepping back until I can feel rough wood on my butt and shoulders.
Reaching around as Arthur approaches, coiled rope dangling from both hands, finding my hands behind the pillar. Assuming the position.
But only just able to grasp fingertips, the pillar being thick.
"Plymouth?"
"No, it's." I'd gasped, pleasure and it's been awhile. Arthur's first loop around my wrists, tugging to force my limbs together yanking my arms back and pushing my chest out. "Carry on."
Letting out a shaky breath, I'd told him- being honest -that I'm into it.
Wrists bound, crossed. The long doubled up rope passed around the pillar too, fed between it and my butt, binding my wrists to the wood. A second rope around my waist, securing that to the pillar too.
Moving down, kneeling. Head level with my throbbing- in anticipation -crotch.
Binding my legs: ankle, knee and upper thigh, rope pinching and forcing the limbs tight together, wrapping the pillar too, of course. Preventing the escape I won't be seeking anyway.
Because it's a shoot.
But I probably wouldn't try to escape regardless.
Silly. Foolish- as has been proved -but true.
Upper body. Breasts being squeezed above and below, feeling myself forced back against the wood and, because we're going all out, Arthur uses more rope to wrap figure of eights around my F cups, squeezing them that much tighter, nipples becoming hypersensitive.
My whole body feeling like one constant tingle.
"You're okay?"
"Buzzing." Shaky laugh, Arthur smiles, nods understanding whether real or not.
"Yes. Though." Nodding. "Do the rest Arthur, I'm good. Thanks."
"Great." Tipping me a salute. Fetching more rope off the floor.
Which becomes my gag, no ball or scarf, no tape. The barn looks dirty, the floor oil stained and so I've spend some time messing this batch of rope up too, on purpose. Making it fit, the whole esthetic that I've been abandoned someplace dirty and old.
Opening wide, pleased to note that like all his bindings the gag is on the tight side. Real, not for show which I suppose some sites, riggers and models do. Maybe sometimes it looks real but isn't? Prehaps once the director yells 'cut' some models simply shrug the ropes off?
Not me. It has to be real too. I look helpless because I am helpless.
The rope digs in at the sides, pushing my tongue back and giving my face a naturally distressed look.
Perfect.
Arthur takes photos. Circling me, camera in hand picking and choosing angles. Standing and kneeling, two complete circuits just to be sure.
Moving in for closeups: my pussy, rope squeezed F cups nipples standing proud, my face, eyes wide, drooling.
A thumbs up. Photos done. Moving on.
To the ultimate test of compatibility, because yes he's touched my breasts. Multiple times so far whilst binding them, lifting and holding. But now Arthur fetches a wand vibrator, spending close to five minutes about the somewhat fiddly task of attaching it to my upper right leg in such a way that the bulbous head is nestled against my pussy and won't slip down once I begin struggling.
Just the feel of it, inactive yet a firm contact, pushing through my pussy lips and pressed on my clit. Just that and my breath has shallowed out, heart fluttering.
Anticipation.
Final check of his- fixed -cameras, a thumbs up.
"And we're rolling film Plymouth." Offering a smile, stepping back to lean against a workbench, my laptop there cables snaking from it to the equipment.
I give it a ten count, an old skill giving me, Arthur a chance to do a fade in, a chance to set the scene before I move.
Blinking as though waking, small wriggle and a serious of low moans. Eyes looking left, right and down. Taking it all in.
More small struggles and quiet moans as Arthur circles me again, capturing closeups stepping in shot, back out. We'll edit him out later. Standing right in front of me, slow pan up from pussy to face and I make sure to drool, to slow blink and moan. Eye contact with the camera.
I'm so tightly bound and gagged please help me.
Out of shot, remote in hand.
Sudden kick in my crotch as the vibrator buzzes to life, from nothing to full power in seconds my moans increasing with it.
Struggles too. Wriggling and fighting, seeking an impossible escape as though I don't actually want to climax all bound and forced to do so.
It's a hard life.
Screaming against the rope gag and thank fuck my house is quite far removed from the main woodland walking routes. The orgasm speeds through me, breathing like a freight train body locking at the moment of pleasure when on approach I'd been bucking, breasts bouncing up down up.
But there's no respite.
I'd told Arthur to leave the remote alone post orgasm. Because I'm pushing the limits, going all in.
Knowing the vibrator, buzzing angrily against my now becoming tender clit will force a second climax quite quickly.
My moaning becomes something more urgent, more pleading and- half real -begging then just pleasure, which is still there building fast only now I'm fighting against it more.
Whilst the first time around might play as my wanting it, now there's distress. Like I'm being used, abused and dominated. Forced. And a fair percentage of people who like bondage porn like the more extreme end.
They like, want to see this. Me, apparently, pushed into climaxing again despite not, apparently, wanting to.
An act. Of course.
I've had far worse done to me, and enjoyed it too.
Probably shouldn't admit such.
But the footage will play well, Plymouth forced to climax twice.
Naked.
Lashed to the pillar with dirty rope.
A good start.
And only the slightest feeling of sadness, freed and waving Arthur off, wishing I were still bound and gagged.
The old Plymouth curse, that I'm just dying to surrender, way too eager to become someone's bitch.
But not today.
002.
I have friends, and like most people they're split into distinct groups. Two groups.
Work: by which I mean porn, because Brooke toils alone in Owl Wood, yet Plymouth has, yes contacts- people I've worked with before who I may hit up again, may hit me up again. But I've got friends in porn too. Genuine fun to be around let's get drunk and play monopoly friends.
The second group are the Kings. Three Kings, the biker gang I've been riding with for years, courtesy of an ex: Lili, who died badly a motorbike accident that claimed her parents too. Tragic in every sense. Lili's father was a King, one of the Three founding Kings. My black leather jacket proudly displays the patch- Three chess piece Kings, two white and a black on the right. Tall and looming.
Bikes. Bondage porn. My two favourite things.
Sometimes it's fun to mix.
A barbecue. The advance forecast showing sun, a good day for shorts. So hasty plans are made, messages pinging and zipping around the Kings group WhatsApp. Owl Wood allows I can keep my own hours and schedule, so I reach out.
And Daniel brings Shauna.
"You in porn too?"
Smiling as I approach from behind. What I do isn't a secret here, amongst friends, and there's a trail of logic because these are people I invited. The asking, curious in no way malicious, so I hang back, smile widening as Daniel nods, hugging his girlfriend and being honest.
No shame, and no reason there should be.
We're, the porn crowd in a sea of bikers. Excepting that I tick that box too. But the three of us have, unplanned, turned up wearing matching tee's: black, baggy on Daniel's skinny frame but stretched tight across Shauna's enhanced C's and my canon F's. Our 'Carnival of Chains' clothing, the legend writ large across the back, tour dates list like below.
The show, my fault though there's no blame despite I'd used it as an excuse to run away. Twice.
Carnival was, is, like a show, bondage done as games, exhibition like. A thrill ride.
We sold these tee's at the shows, our many- shocking that my idea actually worked out, was somehow popular enough -sold out venues. But ours have the additional word 'Crew' added. Marking us special.
I, no shame, proud, wear mine- I have over a half dozen on rotation, all the crew had multiples -at least twice a week.
Daniel owns, shoots and is rigger for Strange Ropes, bondage with a twist of the weird. Probably some of the most fun shoots I've done. Skinny with messy hair, total opposites with his black skinned curvy framed girlfriend and occasional model.
"The two most sensible people here."
"What's that?" Pivoting, turning from a conversation done to face me, Daniel asking but Shauna still held close, eyebrow raised in echo of his question.
"Shorts." Gesturing with my water bottle, bare legs on them, jeans hugging mine.
"Well." Slight frown. "We're also the only one's who arrived here on four wheels so...."
"Except for Dave and Carol." Another gesture, waving out into the crowd. "But someone had to bring the supplies."
A much loved local picnic spot, brick built barbecue areas around which wooden benches are set. We, the King's, have taken over one of the patches, leather jackets and helmets stacked in orderly disarray off to one side.
The carpark a sea of two wheeled steel beasts, fat wheeled custom choppers leaning beside sleek sports models like mine, all seeming to spoil for a rumble.
Despite the weather we're all in jeans, because shorts on a bike isn't far off suicide.
Although.
"Honestly, Plymouth." Sticking her tongue out as I tuck the freshly removed tee through my belt, letting it hang and revealing the shades of purple camouflage halter bikini top that's.
Not quite.
Containing my breasts.
I stick mine out back, Daniel rolls his eyes.
We're friends.
"So." A friend, asking. Daniel clinks his plastic bottle of Pepsi to mine of water. "How was it?"
"It was."
Body pinned to the pillar, sensations fire like running all over me as the dirty rope digs in. Throb in my pussy, which never remembers work isn't sex. Watching and failing to control both breathing and heart rate. Watching Arthur walk a slow circle, camera in hand and gaze flicking over me. Seeking angles and best shots.
"We worked well," nodding, "together."
"Wasn't weird?"
"You mean."
Gagged now, Arthur kneeling head level with my pussy, still throbbing it wants. Something. And he knows I'm into it because I've been honest. For the best and better to forewarn that I won't need to pretend enjoyment of what's being done, by him to me.
Feeling the vibrator my canons won't let me see, bulb like head pressing against my pussy lips. Gagged gasp, a moan I can't hold back as Arthur's fingers touch me. Business, a man about a task not taking advantage despite he could. Easily given my roped state. His fingers pressing at my slit, opening and guiding, bringing the vibrator fully into contact with my all too awake clit.
"Well." I shrug, smile. "He was fine."
"Good." Visibly happy, the weight of worry unloaded.
I've had. Issues, several twists in the path of my modelling career. To which end I made a list, with Daniel's help of sites and people- within the industry -whom I could trust. Men and women I can work for, and with, without fear or danger of things going south.
Arthur, whilst not actually working in bondage had an interest, and as a friend of Daniel's he was worth trying.
And it seems we'll be okay. If he can feel me up, breasts and pussy, but maintain that business angle, then I'm happy.
"You know his girlfriend's into it too."
"I know." Giving Shauna, teasing tone and stirring, a playful push. "No doubt she'll make the fact known more obviously at some point."
"And?"
"And when she does." I smile. "Why not. If she wants and he wants. Why not."
By which point the food's ready, and the conversation drifts away from work.
The day passes, pleasant. Warm and relaxing.
"Where's-"
"-Still travelling."
Mostly pleasant.
I have friends, and like most people they're split into distinct groups. Two groups.
Work: by which I mean porn, because Brooke toils alone in Owl Wood, yet Plymouth has, yes contacts- people I've worked with before who I may hit up again, may hit me up again. But I've got friends in porn too. Genuine fun to be around let's get drunk and play monopoly friends.
The second group are the Kings. Three Kings, the biker gang I've been riding with for years, courtesy of an ex: Lili, who died badly a motorbike accident that claimed her parents too. Tragic in every sense. Lili's father was a King, one of the Three founding Kings. My black leather jacket proudly displays the patch- Three chess piece Kings, two white and a black on the right. Tall and looming.
Bikes. Bondage porn. My two favourite things.
Sometimes it's fun to mix.
A barbecue. The advance forecast showing sun, a good day for shorts. So hasty plans are made, messages pinging and zipping around the Kings group WhatsApp. Owl Wood allows I can keep my own hours and schedule, so I reach out.
And Daniel brings Shauna.
"You in porn too?"
Smiling as I approach from behind. What I do isn't a secret here, amongst friends, and there's a trail of logic because these are people I invited. The asking, curious in no way malicious, so I hang back, smile widening as Daniel nods, hugging his girlfriend and being honest.
No shame, and no reason there should be.
We're, the porn crowd in a sea of bikers. Excepting that I tick that box too. But the three of us have, unplanned, turned up wearing matching tee's: black, baggy on Daniel's skinny frame but stretched tight across Shauna's enhanced C's and my canon F's. Our 'Carnival of Chains' clothing, the legend writ large across the back, tour dates list like below.
The show, my fault though there's no blame despite I'd used it as an excuse to run away. Twice.
Carnival was, is, like a show, bondage done as games, exhibition like. A thrill ride.
We sold these tee's at the shows, our many- shocking that my idea actually worked out, was somehow popular enough -sold out venues. But ours have the additional word 'Crew' added. Marking us special.
I, no shame, proud, wear mine- I have over a half dozen on rotation, all the crew had multiples -at least twice a week.
Daniel owns, shoots and is rigger for Strange Ropes, bondage with a twist of the weird. Probably some of the most fun shoots I've done. Skinny with messy hair, total opposites with his black skinned curvy framed girlfriend and occasional model.
"The two most sensible people here."
"What's that?" Pivoting, turning from a conversation done to face me, Daniel asking but Shauna still held close, eyebrow raised in echo of his question.
"Shorts." Gesturing with my water bottle, bare legs on them, jeans hugging mine.
"Well." Slight frown. "We're also the only one's who arrived here on four wheels so...."
"Except for Dave and Carol." Another gesture, waving out into the crowd. "But someone had to bring the supplies."
A much loved local picnic spot, brick built barbecue areas around which wooden benches are set. We, the King's, have taken over one of the patches, leather jackets and helmets stacked in orderly disarray off to one side.
The carpark a sea of two wheeled steel beasts, fat wheeled custom choppers leaning beside sleek sports models like mine, all seeming to spoil for a rumble.
Despite the weather we're all in jeans, because shorts on a bike isn't far off suicide.
Although.
"Honestly, Plymouth." Sticking her tongue out as I tuck the freshly removed tee through my belt, letting it hang and revealing the shades of purple camouflage halter bikini top that's.
Not quite.
Containing my breasts.
I stick mine out back, Daniel rolls his eyes.
We're friends.
"So." A friend, asking. Daniel clinks his plastic bottle of Pepsi to mine of water. "How was it?"
"It was."
Body pinned to the pillar, sensations fire like running all over me as the dirty rope digs in. Throb in my pussy, which never remembers work isn't sex. Watching and failing to control both breathing and heart rate. Watching Arthur walk a slow circle, camera in hand and gaze flicking over me. Seeking angles and best shots.
"We worked well," nodding, "together."
"Wasn't weird?"
"You mean."
Gagged now, Arthur kneeling head level with my pussy, still throbbing it wants. Something. And he knows I'm into it because I've been honest. For the best and better to forewarn that I won't need to pretend enjoyment of what's being done, by him to me.
Feeling the vibrator my canons won't let me see, bulb like head pressing against my pussy lips. Gagged gasp, a moan I can't hold back as Arthur's fingers touch me. Business, a man about a task not taking advantage despite he could. Easily given my roped state. His fingers pressing at my slit, opening and guiding, bringing the vibrator fully into contact with my all too awake clit.
"Well." I shrug, smile. "He was fine."
"Good." Visibly happy, the weight of worry unloaded.
I've had. Issues, several twists in the path of my modelling career. To which end I made a list, with Daniel's help of sites and people- within the industry -whom I could trust. Men and women I can work for, and with, without fear or danger of things going south.
Arthur, whilst not actually working in bondage had an interest, and as a friend of Daniel's he was worth trying.
And it seems we'll be okay. If he can feel me up, breasts and pussy, but maintain that business angle, then I'm happy.
"You know his girlfriend's into it too."
"I know." Giving Shauna, teasing tone and stirring, a playful push. "No doubt she'll make the fact known more obviously at some point."
"And?"
"And when she does." I smile. "Why not. If she wants and he wants. Why not."
By which point the food's ready, and the conversation drifts away from work.
The day passes, pleasant. Warm and relaxing.
"Where's-"
"-Still travelling."
Mostly pleasant.
003.
You can't launch a site without content.
Day one, live, we'll need a bunch. Offerings, bondage to entice and welcome. I've got some old content, stuff shot before but never released for varying reasons. But I need new stuff too.
Which is why I've taken two days off and ridden the Hayabusa up to Scotland. And Sonya.
"Not too tired Plymouth?"
"Nah." Grinning, prehaps too wide but prolonged speed- a bad habit the Hayabusa makes too easy -brings the manic side of me out. "Buzzing."
"Great." Smiling back, nod of thanks as I open the door wider. Letting her in.
Sonya's on Daniel's list by virtue that she knows someone who knows him, someone he trusts vouching her in turn. She's young, and new. Starting out so this here, multiple shoots will benefit us both.
Footage all round, stills and hopefully for her some sort of social media bump from having worked with me.
Given she still lives at home I've booked a hotel room.
We'll just have to be quiet.
"As we discussed then?" Looking over the paperwork, neat lines everything properly worded as it should be: who does what to who, and who gets to use it afterward. Who gets paid and how much.
In this case neither of us. All the footage is for us both, her use and mine.
And Sonya knows I'll- established -likely get more hits, but my name on her site will help her too.
Or that's the plan.
"For one and two."
"Great." Taking the offered pen, signing beneath my scribble. "I'll change?"
"Bathroom." Pointing out the door, of course the ensuite in this two room hotel room. But being polite counts for something. "Take your time, I'll finish setting up."
"Kay." Thumbs up, and backpack in hand Sonya wanders from bedroom to bathroom.
Keeping the door open because privacy doesn't really matter when you're shooting porn.
Eighteen and change. Young. Pale skinned and a curvy size twelve, packing a pair of pert E's with long hair dyed red like fire.
Hence: Flame, Sonya's other side, what she's trying to create in the same fashion I turned Brooke into Plymouth.
Looking the part- because she, Sonya as Flame, wants to lean at the Domme end of the bondage porn market -enough, stepping from the ensuite just the sight and my submissiveness wakes up. Taking notice.
Black latex, a one piece hugging every curve, showing every detail making her lack of underwear obvious. Zipped up at the front the runner disappearing between her legs, on which thigh high boots have been laced, black and tight with heels that add several inches. Gloves, more black latex from fingertips to bicep.
And next to her I'm severely underdressed: a bikini. Pale blue halter top and black tie side thong bottoms, white skull and crossbones on the tiny front triangle.
We'll do more, but for now things are simple.
One, I bind her.
Two, Flame's revenge.
"You look stunning Plymouth." Nodding, playing. "I love how you've gone a size too small on purpose."
"Well I think it's great how you decided to save money by not buying a thong."
Grinning at each other. Tension building I can feel it, static charge arcing off her and me. Seeking release.
Prelude to the shoot, both of us keen.
"Ready?"
"To be tied up," Playful side nudge, "by the famous Plymouth. Destroyer of worlds."
"Ha." Nudging her back. "Plymouth, rope slut for hire more like."
Said without thinking, the truth. And Flame grins. Nods.
"I guess we'll find out in the second shoot."
I smile back, brief fidget to hide the sudden tingle and shiver. The rush, because Flame is a Domme.
And soon I'll be all hers.
You can't launch a site without content.
Day one, live, we'll need a bunch. Offerings, bondage to entice and welcome. I've got some old content, stuff shot before but never released for varying reasons. But I need new stuff too.
Which is why I've taken two days off and ridden the Hayabusa up to Scotland. And Sonya.
"Not too tired Plymouth?"
"Nah." Grinning, prehaps too wide but prolonged speed- a bad habit the Hayabusa makes too easy -brings the manic side of me out. "Buzzing."
"Great." Smiling back, nod of thanks as I open the door wider. Letting her in.
Sonya's on Daniel's list by virtue that she knows someone who knows him, someone he trusts vouching her in turn. She's young, and new. Starting out so this here, multiple shoots will benefit us both.
Footage all round, stills and hopefully for her some sort of social media bump from having worked with me.
Given she still lives at home I've booked a hotel room.
We'll just have to be quiet.
"As we discussed then?" Looking over the paperwork, neat lines everything properly worded as it should be: who does what to who, and who gets to use it afterward. Who gets paid and how much.
In this case neither of us. All the footage is for us both, her use and mine.
And Sonya knows I'll- established -likely get more hits, but my name on her site will help her too.
Or that's the plan.
"For one and two."
"Great." Taking the offered pen, signing beneath my scribble. "I'll change?"
"Bathroom." Pointing out the door, of course the ensuite in this two room hotel room. But being polite counts for something. "Take your time, I'll finish setting up."
"Kay." Thumbs up, and backpack in hand Sonya wanders from bedroom to bathroom.
Keeping the door open because privacy doesn't really matter when you're shooting porn.
Eighteen and change. Young. Pale skinned and a curvy size twelve, packing a pair of pert E's with long hair dyed red like fire.
Hence: Flame, Sonya's other side, what she's trying to create in the same fashion I turned Brooke into Plymouth.
Looking the part- because she, Sonya as Flame, wants to lean at the Domme end of the bondage porn market -enough, stepping from the ensuite just the sight and my submissiveness wakes up. Taking notice.
Black latex, a one piece hugging every curve, showing every detail making her lack of underwear obvious. Zipped up at the front the runner disappearing between her legs, on which thigh high boots have been laced, black and tight with heels that add several inches. Gloves, more black latex from fingertips to bicep.
And next to her I'm severely underdressed: a bikini. Pale blue halter top and black tie side thong bottoms, white skull and crossbones on the tiny front triangle.
We'll do more, but for now things are simple.
One, I bind her.
Two, Flame's revenge.
"You look stunning Plymouth." Nodding, playing. "I love how you've gone a size too small on purpose."
"Well I think it's great how you decided to save money by not buying a thong."
Grinning at each other. Tension building I can feel it, static charge arcing off her and me. Seeking release.
Prelude to the shoot, both of us keen.
"Ready?"
"To be tied up," Playful side nudge, "by the famous Plymouth. Destroyer of worlds."
"Ha." Nudging her back. "Plymouth, rope slut for hire more like."
Said without thinking, the truth. And Flame grins. Nods.
"I guess we'll find out in the second shoot."
I smile back, brief fidget to hide the sudden tingle and shiver. The rush, because Flame is a Domme.
And soon I'll be all hers.
Plymouth binds Flame.
Shoot one.
I've paid a little extra for an upgrade, a slightly bigger more plush room.
King sized bed not a double, two plush fabric armchairs off to the side and a better view- because we're higher up -out the window. Decent sized bath, and the wall mounted flatscreen is a fifty-five not a fourty.
There are static cameras set up angled at the bed: foot end and side on, plus a second behind it but higher, angled to look down from above head height.
Everything linked to my laptop, the files I'll put on a memory stick for Sonya. Flame. So she can upload them to hers, edit as she sees fit for her site whilst I do the same for mine.
"Okay?"
"Okay." Checking my screen having switched all three cameras on. A thumbs up as I wander into shot, joining Flame as we stand together in front of the bed one arm around each others waist. Hugging.
Friends.
Counting down from five, muttering. Flame giggles but regains a straight face by the time I get to zero.
"Hey." Waving. "And welcome. It's Plymouth, and I'm here with the always sexy Flame." Squeezing her closer, Flame smiles, waves too. "And you've found your way here to shoot one."
"Of a special two shoot set."
"Yes." A nod. "First I'm going to be binding Flame."
"And then, after. I'll be making Plymouth my bitch."
Caught off guard by the spank, Flame's hand moving from my waist to administer a single hard slap. Making me gasp, combining with her words to set off a depth charge like throb in my pussy.
"Yes." Voice a little shaky, breath a little fast. I half smile. "So." Squeezing her again, Flame squeezes me back. "Enjoy."
And then quite unexpectedly, not that we have a set script anyway, Flame half turns using her grip on my waist to turn me too.
And suddenly she's kissing me. For the cameras, slow and I feel her tongue sliding against my teeth, in as I respond. Kissing her back.
Leaving us both breathing fast as we pull apart, swapping grins as I walk out of shoot.
Fetching rope.
"So how will you be tying me?"
"Hogtie." Stood behind her, Flame's wrists pressed together side by side and already rope wrapped, cinched tight. I'm working on making her elbows the same, yanking, using my muscle to bring them together.
Grunt from Flame, body jerked and latex clad chest thrust forward.
"Kay." Between grunts, a small nod and- I see later, watching the footage -a quick smile. Working the Domme thing so being bound will be a rarity, but Flame appreciates the angle: that people want to see a Domme bound sometimes, plus the whole revenge two shoot storyline.
"Not your first then?"
"No I'm." Smiling as she half turns, peering back at me. "Somewhat of an expert by now."
"It shows." Nodding to me, then forward to the camera. Shaking her bound arms as I step back.
Watching.
"Gag time."
"Right." Opening wide as I step back in, jaws closing around the black ball, gripping though she doesn't have much choice. I lean in, breasts pressed against hers, reaching around to buckle the straps behind.
"Okay?"
"Mmnnnffggghhhhh." Nodding, blinking. Right leg briefly spasming because I'm still standing close one hand groping a humped breast, my other sliding up and down between her legs.
Feeling her up. Making Flame squirm for the camera.
Leaning in I kiss her gagged lips.
"Gggdddfffmmmrrrrr." Like a sigh, and I see her eyes track to the camera. To stare.
Good work.
I keep it up another minute, groping and kissing. Bending to lick across her latex chest.
Then I help Flame up onto the bed, gently lower her to lay belly down, sideways across the bed facing the camera.
Rope to bind her legs together, ankles and knees. Kneeling beside, leaning in and working, glancing up to smile at the camera seeing Flame switch between gazing off to one side and lifting her head to moan at the lens.
Soft. Quiet. Not distressed, Into it.
A final rope to hogtie her, ankles linked to elbows. Tight, yanking in the slack Flame's moans climbing up in scale as I pull, restricting her more and more. Making it severe.
Which equals better.
Leaning in, a kiss on the cheek.
"She's all yours." Winking at the camera, knowing that my acres of cleavage is in shot, looming beside her. "For awhile."
Climbing back, retreating out of shot.
Leaving Flame to put on a show.
She's slow to start, not used to and not entirely comfortable with being the one bound. Unsure, I can tell from my spot on the armchair, relaxing, that she's stopping to think each move through first.
Which doesn't stop it being some great footage, because her pausing adds a different level. Often she'll stare into the camera, possibly moan. A handful of times she fights the gag, mouth working. Drooling.
And five minutes in, just about to rise, to step in, Flame suddenly begins to.
Attack, it feels like, watching. She goes from still to a full body struggle like clicking fingers, writhing and bucking, moaning. For close to a minute she acts like a woman possessed, like.
Someone panicking?
The thought forming even as she winds down. Is Domme Sonya desperate to say stop? Is she genuinely worrying, somehow forgetting it's a shoot?
I hunker down, out of shot behind the camera, catch her eye and half frown, show a wiggling thumbs up.
Okay?
To which she blinks. Pauses.
Nods.
Great, I smile in response, standing back up and walking into shot. Climb up onto the bed and roll Flame over, lay down making us side by side, belly to belly.
And the cameras, now behind me one will be able to see down between us to her, the other a perfect view of my thong clad butt.
I unzip her, slow, opening the front of that skintight latex from neck to crotch. Flame's E cups spilling out, free, her shaved pussy breaking cover too.
"Hi."
"Ggghhhffffff ddddmmmnnlllppp." Wriggling closer, sighing as my hand finds a nipple, rolling it between finger and thumb.
Using my hands, my mouth on gagged lips and budded nipples I coax an orgasm from her. Working slow, building, taking the time to make her squirm. To smile back at each gagged moan and the whole point here is the contrast: my binding Flame is soft, more play like whilst the reverse won't be.
Two sides of bondage.
And. Finished, a final gagged kiss and I climb up, off, walking away leaving Flame hogtied, exposed. Breath slowly returning to normal her body still. Spent.
Off camera, waiting. Counting. And back in, freeing her the shoot over. Working quickly Flame's limbs still floppy, that post climax glow. Rolled onto her back limbs a loose starfish, relaxing whilst I check the laptop, clicking save.
Wrapping up one file set.
Prepping the next.
Shoot one.
I've paid a little extra for an upgrade, a slightly bigger more plush room.
King sized bed not a double, two plush fabric armchairs off to the side and a better view- because we're higher up -out the window. Decent sized bath, and the wall mounted flatscreen is a fifty-five not a fourty.
There are static cameras set up angled at the bed: foot end and side on, plus a second behind it but higher, angled to look down from above head height.
Everything linked to my laptop, the files I'll put on a memory stick for Sonya. Flame. So she can upload them to hers, edit as she sees fit for her site whilst I do the same for mine.
"Okay?"
"Okay." Checking my screen having switched all three cameras on. A thumbs up as I wander into shot, joining Flame as we stand together in front of the bed one arm around each others waist. Hugging.
Friends.
Counting down from five, muttering. Flame giggles but regains a straight face by the time I get to zero.
"Hey." Waving. "And welcome. It's Plymouth, and I'm here with the always sexy Flame." Squeezing her closer, Flame smiles, waves too. "And you've found your way here to shoot one."
"Of a special two shoot set."
"Yes." A nod. "First I'm going to be binding Flame."
"And then, after. I'll be making Plymouth my bitch."
Caught off guard by the spank, Flame's hand moving from my waist to administer a single hard slap. Making me gasp, combining with her words to set off a depth charge like throb in my pussy.
"Yes." Voice a little shaky, breath a little fast. I half smile. "So." Squeezing her again, Flame squeezes me back. "Enjoy."
And then quite unexpectedly, not that we have a set script anyway, Flame half turns using her grip on my waist to turn me too.
And suddenly she's kissing me. For the cameras, slow and I feel her tongue sliding against my teeth, in as I respond. Kissing her back.
Leaving us both breathing fast as we pull apart, swapping grins as I walk out of shoot.
Fetching rope.
"So how will you be tying me?"
"Hogtie." Stood behind her, Flame's wrists pressed together side by side and already rope wrapped, cinched tight. I'm working on making her elbows the same, yanking, using my muscle to bring them together.
Grunt from Flame, body jerked and latex clad chest thrust forward.
"Kay." Between grunts, a small nod and- I see later, watching the footage -a quick smile. Working the Domme thing so being bound will be a rarity, but Flame appreciates the angle: that people want to see a Domme bound sometimes, plus the whole revenge two shoot storyline.
"Not your first then?"
"No I'm." Smiling as she half turns, peering back at me. "Somewhat of an expert by now."
"It shows." Nodding to me, then forward to the camera. Shaking her bound arms as I step back.
Watching.
"Gag time."
"Right." Opening wide as I step back in, jaws closing around the black ball, gripping though she doesn't have much choice. I lean in, breasts pressed against hers, reaching around to buckle the straps behind.
"Okay?"
"Mmnnnffggghhhhh." Nodding, blinking. Right leg briefly spasming because I'm still standing close one hand groping a humped breast, my other sliding up and down between her legs.
Feeling her up. Making Flame squirm for the camera.
Leaning in I kiss her gagged lips.
"Gggdddfffmmmrrrrr." Like a sigh, and I see her eyes track to the camera. To stare.
Good work.
I keep it up another minute, groping and kissing. Bending to lick across her latex chest.
Then I help Flame up onto the bed, gently lower her to lay belly down, sideways across the bed facing the camera.
Rope to bind her legs together, ankles and knees. Kneeling beside, leaning in and working, glancing up to smile at the camera seeing Flame switch between gazing off to one side and lifting her head to moan at the lens.
Soft. Quiet. Not distressed, Into it.
A final rope to hogtie her, ankles linked to elbows. Tight, yanking in the slack Flame's moans climbing up in scale as I pull, restricting her more and more. Making it severe.
Which equals better.
Leaning in, a kiss on the cheek.
"She's all yours." Winking at the camera, knowing that my acres of cleavage is in shot, looming beside her. "For awhile."
Climbing back, retreating out of shot.
Leaving Flame to put on a show.
She's slow to start, not used to and not entirely comfortable with being the one bound. Unsure, I can tell from my spot on the armchair, relaxing, that she's stopping to think each move through first.
Which doesn't stop it being some great footage, because her pausing adds a different level. Often she'll stare into the camera, possibly moan. A handful of times she fights the gag, mouth working. Drooling.
And five minutes in, just about to rise, to step in, Flame suddenly begins to.
Attack, it feels like, watching. She goes from still to a full body struggle like clicking fingers, writhing and bucking, moaning. For close to a minute she acts like a woman possessed, like.
Someone panicking?
The thought forming even as she winds down. Is Domme Sonya desperate to say stop? Is she genuinely worrying, somehow forgetting it's a shoot?
I hunker down, out of shot behind the camera, catch her eye and half frown, show a wiggling thumbs up.
Okay?
To which she blinks. Pauses.
Nods.
Great, I smile in response, standing back up and walking into shot. Climb up onto the bed and roll Flame over, lay down making us side by side, belly to belly.
And the cameras, now behind me one will be able to see down between us to her, the other a perfect view of my thong clad butt.
I unzip her, slow, opening the front of that skintight latex from neck to crotch. Flame's E cups spilling out, free, her shaved pussy breaking cover too.
"Hi."
"Ggghhhffffff ddddmmmnnlllppp." Wriggling closer, sighing as my hand finds a nipple, rolling it between finger and thumb.
Using my hands, my mouth on gagged lips and budded nipples I coax an orgasm from her. Working slow, building, taking the time to make her squirm. To smile back at each gagged moan and the whole point here is the contrast: my binding Flame is soft, more play like whilst the reverse won't be.
Two sides of bondage.
And. Finished, a final gagged kiss and I climb up, off, walking away leaving Flame hogtied, exposed. Breath slowly returning to normal her body still. Spent.
Off camera, waiting. Counting. And back in, freeing her the shoot over. Working quickly Flame's limbs still floppy, that post climax glow. Rolled onto her back limbs a loose starfish, relaxing whilst I check the laptop, clicking save.
Wrapping up one file set.
Prepping the next.
Flame binds Plymouth.
Shoot two.
Flame doesn't know my setup, so I've checked positions and angles, turned on everything and checked again.
Then handed myself over, because this second shoot is hers.
Flame's revenge you could say.
"Naked at the start?" Aware I'm in shot, that the tape is running but we won't use this footage. Asking.
"Please." Nodding too from the armchair without turning around, checking her supplies over. I nod back, stripping off the bikini top and bottoms, tossing both away.
Stand still, just about managing to control the shiver, to tamp it down to nothing beyond a quick indrawn breath as Flame, standing behind me attaches a collar: solid metal band cold and snug against my neck.
Old memories cascading.
I fight to stand still as the lock clicks.
Only a shoot.
Only a shoot, and the trouble isn't fear. I'm not scared or panicked. I'm buzzing. Only a shoot but it could be more and I- foolish -wouldn't protest.
Flame straps and buckles me into a full head harness, tang of metal in my mouth from the large ring, black straps leading off it around and over, under the chin. Small yanks and grunts as she fastens everything tight.
Because we agreed tight for all the shoots. Not pretend, real bondage.
Coming around the front and taking my hands in hers, latex one piece zipped back up, hair neat. Looking calm and in control.
Like a Domme.
"Okay, Plymouth?"
"Dddggg mmrrsssnnmmm." I nod, brief squeeze to reinforce my assent. Yes. Flame nods back, let's go, and walks out of shot.
I stand, collared and gagged, naked facing the camera arms by my sides. Waiting for a count of close to ten.
Flame strides in, booted heels thump thumping on the carpeted floor, walking towards me causing a kick in my gut, the fight or flight reflex, the surrender like a tingle because I'm already collared. Gagged.
"Welcome." Standing beside me both of us facing forward. "To shoot two, and for those of you unawares. Scroll back. Shoot one is worth the watch."
"But you've had your fun. Plymouth." Turning to face me and reaching. Sudden jerk as Flame hooks two fingers through the ring at the front of my collar, pulling me close. "And now it's my turn."
"Ggghhhllllfffffffdddd." Words a tangled mess, the ring forcing my jaws apart. "Mmmnnrrrgggffff."
"That's right." Talking to the camera, I see, her other hand finding my breast. Squeezing. "She's all mine."
"Okay?"
Blinking at the sudden step change, it's been too real too many times, easy to forget this isn't. Flame, stepped back and asking, hand on my arm.
"Ffgggllmmm." I nod, she smiles and nods back.
"Great. I want to bind you to the bed, spread eagled but I won't include the binding in my edit."
"Dddgggmmddpp." Thumbs up and I climb up onto the bed, but.
"You make a cute slave, you know."
Flame's casual comment stopping me, I turn one leg up the other foot still on the floor. Look at her, swirl of emotion beginning. Until I spot the cocked eyebrow, belatedly realise the tone had been playful. Teasing.
"Fffggpp gggllmmmddd." Flipping her off, she laughs.
If only she knew.
A beginner, to the industry and not many shoots under her belt but Flame's no rookie when it comes to rigging. Each of my limbs is bound to a separate post making, forcing my body into an X shape.
And the larger bed making the spread of me more pronounced: legs wider apart and me feeling- looking too no doubt -smaller, more helpless given the posts, and around them the knots representing my freedom, are that much further away.
I'm on my back, breasts pointing skywards limbs locked.
"Can you move?"
"Hhgggmmmnn." Shake of my head, tensing muscles at arm and leg. Trying. "Lllppmmmnnn."
"Right...." Frowing, standing beside the bed looking down on me. I look back, try not to get turned on by the fact she's dressed like a Domme, is- in my head if not for real -looming over me.
"Could you cope with tighter?"
"Ddffpppggg." I nod. If you think you can find tighter, go ahead.
Half amused, until Flame frees the first limb. Brief moment of small slack followed by a tug, then a second reeling the limb back in and I grunt at the strain even as my pussy throbs. Picking up on how- somehow -more tight it feels.
Repeated on the other three, ache in my biceps and calves when she's finished. Taut feeling all over, belly like I've just done a hundred sit ups.
And Flame stood over me, nodding and satisfied.
"Right." Glance at the cameras. "I'll step out of shot, give you some time to struggle alone before coming back to have my fun."
"Ggghhlllmmnnn." I nod, the moan like sound at least half due to the ropes.
Flame nods back, thumbs up and a cheeky wink before she steps away.
And.
It's very hard to struggle when you've been left with less then no slack. But I try, putting on a good show of it. Moaning, like whimpers, like begging please help me.
Please come pay me attention.
Legs, or arms, sometimes both I attempt to pull my limbs towards me and of course nothing happens aside from my already stretched muscles bunching and straining some more.
I moan. Shaking my body F cups bouncing and rocking. Looking side to side, blinking.
Waiting.
Flame, stood out of shot now sporting a thick black rubber cock, strapped and buckled in place it hangs off her waist. Bobbing as she strokes it.
Looking at me as I look back.
Teasing?
Offering?
Promising?
Is she enjoying the sight of me, does Sonya like Brooke all trussed up and naked. Helpless.
I moan once more as Flame walks back to the bed, into shot. Moaning at her by way of greeting. Please, before my head flops back.
Submitting and surrendering to my Domme.
Climbing up onto the bed Flame takes hold of my hair, bunching a fist through the tufts exploding out around the gag straps up top. Pulling, forcing. Thrusting her crotch forwards and forcing the tip of her strap on into my mouth.
Controlling, moving me and her hips, slowly. Making me lick and take the cock in, out. Making me blow her.
Pushing all the way in. Holding. Making me gag and cough, drool. Changing the tempo slow to fast to slow and me breathing, out of breath gasping.
Face fucking me. Using me.
Becoming lost and the sudden cessation has me blinking as Flame slides back, out. Off.
Bending with a smile for me, coming back up holding a riding crop.
Heart hammering, memories of past times. Real times. And suddenly I miss it all so much, miss her.
Flame proves just as expert with the crop as with the ropes. Her aim is perfect, repeated small flicks and impacts to nipples and crotch and I'm whimpering. Literal putty in her hands.
Harsher smacks because she'd- during negotiations -asked and I'd agreed. Of course. Stinging blows to nipples, enough I'm gasping, moans going loud like a muffled gag mangled scream of mixed pleasure and pain.
She works me over, mixing blows with kisses. Fondling my now tender breasts and pussy, gentle scratches and licking switched in an instant to a harsh bite or the whistle of the crop. Landing another hit.
And eventually I'm fucked. Of course. Flame claiming her prize, climbing up to slide the cock straight inside my soaked pussy. And me wet, so turned on by all her attentions, body stinging and singing, mind all in turmoil.
Sliding in and Flame thrusts, hard. Hand squeezing my breast her other on the bed for balance.
And moments later the orgasm rips through me, the release and I'm screaming into the gag body bucking and fighting the impossibly tight ropes. Flame grinning, speaking and in the moment I can't hear her I'm too lost.
Only after, much much later reviewing footage I'll discover she's bossing me.
"Cum for me. Slut."
She's saying.
But she isn't finished, Flame keeps pumping, slowing down and focusing. Her mouth, the attentions of her hands on my breasts. Pinching and biting whilst she pumps away.
Forcing a second orgasm from me some minutes later, no less powerful.
And in the aftermath, drifting only vaguely registering Flame slipping out, clambering up my body on her knees butt sliding across my stomach. Taking my hair again, feeding me the cock.
Taste of myself in my mouth.
Her climbing off, a final kiss to my gagged lips.
Leaving, walking out of shot leaving me a sweaty spent mess on the bed.
Letting the timer run, final footage of slave Plymouth, still trussed.
Abandoned.
Shoot two.
Flame doesn't know my setup, so I've checked positions and angles, turned on everything and checked again.
Then handed myself over, because this second shoot is hers.
Flame's revenge you could say.
"Naked at the start?" Aware I'm in shot, that the tape is running but we won't use this footage. Asking.
"Please." Nodding too from the armchair without turning around, checking her supplies over. I nod back, stripping off the bikini top and bottoms, tossing both away.
Stand still, just about managing to control the shiver, to tamp it down to nothing beyond a quick indrawn breath as Flame, standing behind me attaches a collar: solid metal band cold and snug against my neck.
Old memories cascading.
I fight to stand still as the lock clicks.
Only a shoot.
Only a shoot, and the trouble isn't fear. I'm not scared or panicked. I'm buzzing. Only a shoot but it could be more and I- foolish -wouldn't protest.
Flame straps and buckles me into a full head harness, tang of metal in my mouth from the large ring, black straps leading off it around and over, under the chin. Small yanks and grunts as she fastens everything tight.
Because we agreed tight for all the shoots. Not pretend, real bondage.
Coming around the front and taking my hands in hers, latex one piece zipped back up, hair neat. Looking calm and in control.
Like a Domme.
"Okay, Plymouth?"
"Dddggg mmrrsssnnmmm." I nod, brief squeeze to reinforce my assent. Yes. Flame nods back, let's go, and walks out of shot.
I stand, collared and gagged, naked facing the camera arms by my sides. Waiting for a count of close to ten.
Flame strides in, booted heels thump thumping on the carpeted floor, walking towards me causing a kick in my gut, the fight or flight reflex, the surrender like a tingle because I'm already collared. Gagged.
"Welcome." Standing beside me both of us facing forward. "To shoot two, and for those of you unawares. Scroll back. Shoot one is worth the watch."
"But you've had your fun. Plymouth." Turning to face me and reaching. Sudden jerk as Flame hooks two fingers through the ring at the front of my collar, pulling me close. "And now it's my turn."
"Ggghhhllllfffffffdddd." Words a tangled mess, the ring forcing my jaws apart. "Mmmnnrrrgggffff."
"That's right." Talking to the camera, I see, her other hand finding my breast. Squeezing. "She's all mine."
"Okay?"
Blinking at the sudden step change, it's been too real too many times, easy to forget this isn't. Flame, stepped back and asking, hand on my arm.
"Ffgggllmmm." I nod, she smiles and nods back.
"Great. I want to bind you to the bed, spread eagled but I won't include the binding in my edit."
"Dddgggmmddpp." Thumbs up and I climb up onto the bed, but.
"You make a cute slave, you know."
Flame's casual comment stopping me, I turn one leg up the other foot still on the floor. Look at her, swirl of emotion beginning. Until I spot the cocked eyebrow, belatedly realise the tone had been playful. Teasing.
"Fffggpp gggllmmmddd." Flipping her off, she laughs.
If only she knew.
A beginner, to the industry and not many shoots under her belt but Flame's no rookie when it comes to rigging. Each of my limbs is bound to a separate post making, forcing my body into an X shape.
And the larger bed making the spread of me more pronounced: legs wider apart and me feeling- looking too no doubt -smaller, more helpless given the posts, and around them the knots representing my freedom, are that much further away.
I'm on my back, breasts pointing skywards limbs locked.
"Can you move?"
"Hhgggmmmnn." Shake of my head, tensing muscles at arm and leg. Trying. "Lllppmmmnnn."
"Right...." Frowing, standing beside the bed looking down on me. I look back, try not to get turned on by the fact she's dressed like a Domme, is- in my head if not for real -looming over me.
"Could you cope with tighter?"
"Ddffpppggg." I nod. If you think you can find tighter, go ahead.
Half amused, until Flame frees the first limb. Brief moment of small slack followed by a tug, then a second reeling the limb back in and I grunt at the strain even as my pussy throbs. Picking up on how- somehow -more tight it feels.
Repeated on the other three, ache in my biceps and calves when she's finished. Taut feeling all over, belly like I've just done a hundred sit ups.
And Flame stood over me, nodding and satisfied.
"Right." Glance at the cameras. "I'll step out of shot, give you some time to struggle alone before coming back to have my fun."
"Ggghhlllmmnnn." I nod, the moan like sound at least half due to the ropes.
Flame nods back, thumbs up and a cheeky wink before she steps away.
And.
It's very hard to struggle when you've been left with less then no slack. But I try, putting on a good show of it. Moaning, like whimpers, like begging please help me.
Please come pay me attention.
Legs, or arms, sometimes both I attempt to pull my limbs towards me and of course nothing happens aside from my already stretched muscles bunching and straining some more.
I moan. Shaking my body F cups bouncing and rocking. Looking side to side, blinking.
Waiting.
Flame, stood out of shot now sporting a thick black rubber cock, strapped and buckled in place it hangs off her waist. Bobbing as she strokes it.
Looking at me as I look back.
Teasing?
Offering?
Promising?
Is she enjoying the sight of me, does Sonya like Brooke all trussed up and naked. Helpless.
I moan once more as Flame walks back to the bed, into shot. Moaning at her by way of greeting. Please, before my head flops back.
Submitting and surrendering to my Domme.
Climbing up onto the bed Flame takes hold of my hair, bunching a fist through the tufts exploding out around the gag straps up top. Pulling, forcing. Thrusting her crotch forwards and forcing the tip of her strap on into my mouth.
Controlling, moving me and her hips, slowly. Making me lick and take the cock in, out. Making me blow her.
Pushing all the way in. Holding. Making me gag and cough, drool. Changing the tempo slow to fast to slow and me breathing, out of breath gasping.
Face fucking me. Using me.
Becoming lost and the sudden cessation has me blinking as Flame slides back, out. Off.
Bending with a smile for me, coming back up holding a riding crop.
Heart hammering, memories of past times. Real times. And suddenly I miss it all so much, miss her.
Flame proves just as expert with the crop as with the ropes. Her aim is perfect, repeated small flicks and impacts to nipples and crotch and I'm whimpering. Literal putty in her hands.
Harsher smacks because she'd- during negotiations -asked and I'd agreed. Of course. Stinging blows to nipples, enough I'm gasping, moans going loud like a muffled gag mangled scream of mixed pleasure and pain.
She works me over, mixing blows with kisses. Fondling my now tender breasts and pussy, gentle scratches and licking switched in an instant to a harsh bite or the whistle of the crop. Landing another hit.
And eventually I'm fucked. Of course. Flame claiming her prize, climbing up to slide the cock straight inside my soaked pussy. And me wet, so turned on by all her attentions, body stinging and singing, mind all in turmoil.
Sliding in and Flame thrusts, hard. Hand squeezing my breast her other on the bed for balance.
And moments later the orgasm rips through me, the release and I'm screaming into the gag body bucking and fighting the impossibly tight ropes. Flame grinning, speaking and in the moment I can't hear her I'm too lost.
Only after, much much later reviewing footage I'll discover she's bossing me.
"Cum for me. Slut."
She's saying.
But she isn't finished, Flame keeps pumping, slowing down and focusing. Her mouth, the attentions of her hands on my breasts. Pinching and biting whilst she pumps away.
Forcing a second orgasm from me some minutes later, no less powerful.
And in the aftermath, drifting only vaguely registering Flame slipping out, clambering up my body on her knees butt sliding across my stomach. Taking my hair again, feeding me the cock.
Taste of myself in my mouth.
Her climbing off, a final kiss to my gagged lips.
Leaving, walking out of shot leaving me a sweaty spent mess on the bed.
Letting the timer run, final footage of slave Plymouth, still trussed.
Abandoned.
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 284
- Joined: 1 year ago
A strong start to a new tale! As you mentioned, a lot of callbacks to help set the stage, which makes sense.
The bondage is just the way Plymouth likes it as well, understandably sparking a lot of conflicting thoughts for her. A push and pull as it were, the mental bonds constricting in tandem with the physical ones. And now the stage is set, new characters in place... Curious to see exactly what direction the tale heads. Perhaps this time Brooke will find/strike the right balance for herself.
Or perhaps she shall fall into the same seductive trap as many times before. Either way, should be interesting!
The bondage is just the way Plymouth likes it as well, understandably sparking a lot of conflicting thoughts for her. A push and pull as it were, the mental bonds constricting in tandem with the physical ones. And now the stage is set, new characters in place... Curious to see exactly what direction the tale heads. Perhaps this time Brooke will find/strike the right balance for herself.
Or perhaps she shall fall into the same seductive trap as many times before. Either way, should be interesting!
ThanksBlissfulMisery wrote: ↑2 weeks ago A strong start to a new tale! As you mentioned, a lot of callbacks to help set the stage, which makes sense.
have been toying with what path to take since the vote poll, working out angles, deciding what I wanted to write next for my favourite model.So far so good.
As for the callbacks, I do enjoy Plymouth's backstory, plenty of unfinished business or fun things there to mine. Can't say at this point if I'll follow any of them up.
Having fun so far, hoping you all are too.
004.
"Plymouth?"
I get into it, deeply into it. Which I don't see as a problem or issue despite the fact diving so deeply has led to trouble on multiple occasions.
I love bondage. Being submissive, being bound and gagged, used.
Fucked.
The more extreme the shoot, the deeper I dive the more I soak it up. The longer and harder is the climb back out.
"Brooke?"
"I'm...."
Drifting, but slowly rising, becoming more aware of reality moment to moment.
Able to talk?
Shifting, the mattress beneath moving at the same moment I'm discovering a surprising lack of rope around my limbs. Freedom, un-sought yet granted.
Because it was a shoot. Stupid.
Contact, and I'm rolling even as the arm hooks around me, even whilst feeling the slippery latex and warmer skin ensemble pressing into my back, I'm rolling over and around.
Face to face with Flame.
"Sonya." A half smile and she offers one in return, shed of boots, gloves, the rest of her curves still covered though the one piece is unzipped from neck to belly, E cups making a half successful bid for freedom pushing the tight material aside, widening the opening.
Flash of nipple.
As though, half undressed she'd come over.
To check on me?
And me, still naked, but shed of ropes, the gag.
The collar.
"Everything alright," still loosely holding me, hooked arm behind though her body is distant enough I've got a perfect view of those escaping breasts, "Brooke?"
"Yeah." Huffing out a breath, hand up, running the gauntlet of her breasts and mine that narrow space between us. Running it through my hair. "Sorry."
"For what?" Amused. "You were zoned out is all, right?"
Flare of the urge. Need, to explain. Opening my mouth but finding no words.
"Looked like you needed a hug." Giving me a squeeze to emphasise her point, effortlessly- and me like a ragdoll -rolling me over and pulling me back against her. Laying down too.
"Got to say," talking low, a must given her mouth is right beside my ear, "you were fucking amazing."
"Well." Warm glow at the compliment, I reach down to pat the hand hugging my belly. "Takes two you know."
"Sure." A nod I feel as hairs tickling my shoulder and back. "Course. But I'm into it see. Love the Domme shit, the bondage too when I'm in the mood. But that." Quick kiss landing on my shoulder. "Definitely the best work I've done."
And from my own experience. Lily. Morgan who became Thirteen. Cough, Deborah, cough. From experience I know the best shoots are those where both parties aren't there solely for the paycheck.
But something, prehaps that I can still see the yawning chasm I'm still not quite risen free of. Some instinct stops me telling Sonya I'm into it too.
Instead I take the offered companionship, the hug. Laying still, breath steady enjoying the feel of Sonya's hand on my belly. Safe ground. Enjoying too the feel of her pressed into my back.
"Brooke?"
"Still here."
"Indeed." Amused, brief squeeze of my belly. "I need a smoke."
"Right."
Plus it's basically dinner, for those of us who skipped lunch anyway. So we untangle and dress: back into the blue spandex shorts and pink 'Roxy Girl' tee Sonya turned up in, black Adidas on her feet and simple white lace underwear beneath her clothes. Faded black jeans for me, almost grey and paired with my black steel toed biker slash work boots. Because I rode here and didn't want to cart extra shoes in my limited luggage. No jacket, because of the weather and over the top of a pink bra I slip on a white vest top, black dragon that's all segmented angled pieces climbing the left side.
We go out, walking. Sonya caught a bus here and I didn't bring a spare helmet. And it turns out, once we leave the busy city centre behind, heading into a park, that Sonya's 'smoke' is actually a spliff.
"Want some?"
"I." Haven't smoked since my teens, young and experimenting. Messing around like kids do. But. "Sure." Fuck it. With a shrug I take it, inhaling, remembering how: drag and hold, slow exhale.
Feel the tingle, a spreading sensation, nice.
"Thought you meant an actual fag."
"Nope." Voice strange, holding her breath and a little smoke leaks out. I laugh and Sonya can't not laugh back. Coughing.
"This is okay though?" Holding the spliff out to me, offering. "You don't mind?"
"Your life." Nodding thanks as I take it. "So long as this is it?"
"Definitely." Pulling a disgusted face. "Just a nice mellow buzz, nothing stronger."
"Good." Passing it back, pointing out a restaurant on the far side of a small lake, outdoor seating on decking. Sonya nods and we change course.
"Don't know how you can eat that crap." Jabbing a fork at my salad, beside which sits a single patty cheeseburger. Her own plate a mess of cheese drizzled chips and a double burger, plus bacon. "Suppose it helps keep the figure though?"
"It does." Trying not to stare, I could've joined her, found a reason. But I like, prefer, being a six. Toned and so on. Plus I'd had pizza yesterday, and too many days makes a habit.
Looking from my plate to hers. Small frown, and then Sonya looks at me. Grins, winks.
Taking a small handful of chips and placing them on the edge of my plate.
I smile back, take one. Try hard not to melt at just how damn good it tastes.
"So what next?"
We'd only agreed, in detail, the first two shoots. We'd batted ideas around, agreeing that yes we would spend today and tomorrow churning out content, working hard. But the what of it hasn't been set.
So.
"Maybe...." Thinking, feeling around inside and no, I can't face being submissive again. Not yet, not to Sonya when part of me is still down in the pit. Eager and willing to drag the rest of me.
And she's into it, she's said so. I can see, there's a possible future and I can almost reach out and touch it. Maybe a few choice words from me, an offer. A dropped hint or two, a certain level and kind of flirting.
I could see, possibly, and potentially quite easily depending on her. But there exists a route which ends in my surrender, to Sonya.
For real not just for a shoot.
And I. Can't. Because part of me wants to I can't suggest submitting. Not yet.
The slope is slippery, I need to be careful.
"How about I tie you to the bed?"
"Yeah." Raised eyebrow and a half smile. Thinking. "What's the angle?"
"Maybe...." Think fast Brooke, I'd literally voiced my first thought so she couldn't get in first. "Something like." Spreading hands across the table as I say it, like presenting the title writ invisibly. "A night with Plymouth."
"Going to leave me tied up all night?"
A frown, clearly- Domme -not liking the thought and I laugh.
No. But, maybe you could leave me?
"Just for the shoot." Smiling and a playful nudge across the table. "Wear something sexy, I'll take photos and shoot video. Struggle some."
"Well." Nodding. "That's fine, except I sleep naked."
"Then I suppose we'll be going shopping."
In the end we both buy sleepwear. Sonya playfully pushes me into choosing too, the Domme in her surfacing, poking it's head above water enough to give an edge to her words. Command like. And I crumble.
She casually mentions, the tones- hard, making it order like -binding me for a bed shoot too. And I manage to, under cover of playfulness, push that plan back to tomorrow morning.
Breathe out. Suppress the shiver.
I don't think she's making a play for me. Sonya's simply a natural dominant, used to getting her way and taking charge, which rubs up against and easily rolls over my natural submissiveness.
That she's letting me bind her at all is some kind of special, rare thing.
The dynamics aside, or even with them, we have fun. The clothes shop is large, a whole floor dedicated at least half the space to lingerie and sleepwear for ladies. Basket in hand Sonya and me tour the aisles, picking up and putting down, holding items up to each other.
Arguing, playfully, over whether she's a ten, twelve, or maybe a fourteen due to that mammoth burger.
To which she, playfully, responds that I should buy an eight because.
"No way those tits will fit into a six."
Purchases made, bag in hand we walk.
Via the park so Sonya can light up again.
Back to the hotel. Plenty of time for another shoot before bed.
"Plymouth?"
I get into it, deeply into it. Which I don't see as a problem or issue despite the fact diving so deeply has led to trouble on multiple occasions.
I love bondage. Being submissive, being bound and gagged, used.
Fucked.
The more extreme the shoot, the deeper I dive the more I soak it up. The longer and harder is the climb back out.
"Brooke?"
"I'm...."
Drifting, but slowly rising, becoming more aware of reality moment to moment.
Able to talk?
Shifting, the mattress beneath moving at the same moment I'm discovering a surprising lack of rope around my limbs. Freedom, un-sought yet granted.
Because it was a shoot. Stupid.
Contact, and I'm rolling even as the arm hooks around me, even whilst feeling the slippery latex and warmer skin ensemble pressing into my back, I'm rolling over and around.
Face to face with Flame.
"Sonya." A half smile and she offers one in return, shed of boots, gloves, the rest of her curves still covered though the one piece is unzipped from neck to belly, E cups making a half successful bid for freedom pushing the tight material aside, widening the opening.
Flash of nipple.
As though, half undressed she'd come over.
To check on me?
And me, still naked, but shed of ropes, the gag.
The collar.
"Everything alright," still loosely holding me, hooked arm behind though her body is distant enough I've got a perfect view of those escaping breasts, "Brooke?"
"Yeah." Huffing out a breath, hand up, running the gauntlet of her breasts and mine that narrow space between us. Running it through my hair. "Sorry."
"For what?" Amused. "You were zoned out is all, right?"
Flare of the urge. Need, to explain. Opening my mouth but finding no words.
"Looked like you needed a hug." Giving me a squeeze to emphasise her point, effortlessly- and me like a ragdoll -rolling me over and pulling me back against her. Laying down too.
"Got to say," talking low, a must given her mouth is right beside my ear, "you were fucking amazing."
"Well." Warm glow at the compliment, I reach down to pat the hand hugging my belly. "Takes two you know."
"Sure." A nod I feel as hairs tickling my shoulder and back. "Course. But I'm into it see. Love the Domme shit, the bondage too when I'm in the mood. But that." Quick kiss landing on my shoulder. "Definitely the best work I've done."
And from my own experience. Lily. Morgan who became Thirteen. Cough, Deborah, cough. From experience I know the best shoots are those where both parties aren't there solely for the paycheck.
But something, prehaps that I can still see the yawning chasm I'm still not quite risen free of. Some instinct stops me telling Sonya I'm into it too.
Instead I take the offered companionship, the hug. Laying still, breath steady enjoying the feel of Sonya's hand on my belly. Safe ground. Enjoying too the feel of her pressed into my back.
"Brooke?"
"Still here."
"Indeed." Amused, brief squeeze of my belly. "I need a smoke."
"Right."
Plus it's basically dinner, for those of us who skipped lunch anyway. So we untangle and dress: back into the blue spandex shorts and pink 'Roxy Girl' tee Sonya turned up in, black Adidas on her feet and simple white lace underwear beneath her clothes. Faded black jeans for me, almost grey and paired with my black steel toed biker slash work boots. Because I rode here and didn't want to cart extra shoes in my limited luggage. No jacket, because of the weather and over the top of a pink bra I slip on a white vest top, black dragon that's all segmented angled pieces climbing the left side.
We go out, walking. Sonya caught a bus here and I didn't bring a spare helmet. And it turns out, once we leave the busy city centre behind, heading into a park, that Sonya's 'smoke' is actually a spliff.
"Want some?"
"I." Haven't smoked since my teens, young and experimenting. Messing around like kids do. But. "Sure." Fuck it. With a shrug I take it, inhaling, remembering how: drag and hold, slow exhale.
Feel the tingle, a spreading sensation, nice.
"Thought you meant an actual fag."
"Nope." Voice strange, holding her breath and a little smoke leaks out. I laugh and Sonya can't not laugh back. Coughing.
"This is okay though?" Holding the spliff out to me, offering. "You don't mind?"
"Your life." Nodding thanks as I take it. "So long as this is it?"
"Definitely." Pulling a disgusted face. "Just a nice mellow buzz, nothing stronger."
"Good." Passing it back, pointing out a restaurant on the far side of a small lake, outdoor seating on decking. Sonya nods and we change course.
"Don't know how you can eat that crap." Jabbing a fork at my salad, beside which sits a single patty cheeseburger. Her own plate a mess of cheese drizzled chips and a double burger, plus bacon. "Suppose it helps keep the figure though?"
"It does." Trying not to stare, I could've joined her, found a reason. But I like, prefer, being a six. Toned and so on. Plus I'd had pizza yesterday, and too many days makes a habit.
Looking from my plate to hers. Small frown, and then Sonya looks at me. Grins, winks.
Taking a small handful of chips and placing them on the edge of my plate.
I smile back, take one. Try hard not to melt at just how damn good it tastes.
"So what next?"
We'd only agreed, in detail, the first two shoots. We'd batted ideas around, agreeing that yes we would spend today and tomorrow churning out content, working hard. But the what of it hasn't been set.
So.
"Maybe...." Thinking, feeling around inside and no, I can't face being submissive again. Not yet, not to Sonya when part of me is still down in the pit. Eager and willing to drag the rest of me.
And she's into it, she's said so. I can see, there's a possible future and I can almost reach out and touch it. Maybe a few choice words from me, an offer. A dropped hint or two, a certain level and kind of flirting.
I could see, possibly, and potentially quite easily depending on her. But there exists a route which ends in my surrender, to Sonya.
For real not just for a shoot.
And I. Can't. Because part of me wants to I can't suggest submitting. Not yet.
The slope is slippery, I need to be careful.
"How about I tie you to the bed?"
"Yeah." Raised eyebrow and a half smile. Thinking. "What's the angle?"
"Maybe...." Think fast Brooke, I'd literally voiced my first thought so she couldn't get in first. "Something like." Spreading hands across the table as I say it, like presenting the title writ invisibly. "A night with Plymouth."
"Going to leave me tied up all night?"
A frown, clearly- Domme -not liking the thought and I laugh.
No. But, maybe you could leave me?
"Just for the shoot." Smiling and a playful nudge across the table. "Wear something sexy, I'll take photos and shoot video. Struggle some."
"Well." Nodding. "That's fine, except I sleep naked."
"Then I suppose we'll be going shopping."
In the end we both buy sleepwear. Sonya playfully pushes me into choosing too, the Domme in her surfacing, poking it's head above water enough to give an edge to her words. Command like. And I crumble.
She casually mentions, the tones- hard, making it order like -binding me for a bed shoot too. And I manage to, under cover of playfulness, push that plan back to tomorrow morning.
Breathe out. Suppress the shiver.
I don't think she's making a play for me. Sonya's simply a natural dominant, used to getting her way and taking charge, which rubs up against and easily rolls over my natural submissiveness.
That she's letting me bind her at all is some kind of special, rare thing.
The dynamics aside, or even with them, we have fun. The clothes shop is large, a whole floor dedicated at least half the space to lingerie and sleepwear for ladies. Basket in hand Sonya and me tour the aisles, picking up and putting down, holding items up to each other.
Arguing, playfully, over whether she's a ten, twelve, or maybe a fourteen due to that mammoth burger.
To which she, playfully, responds that I should buy an eight because.
"No way those tits will fit into a six."
Purchases made, bag in hand we walk.
Via the park so Sonya can light up again.
Back to the hotel. Plenty of time for another shoot before bed.
Plymouth binds Flame.
Shoot three.
"You know I don't normally let people tie me up." No longer bothering with the bathroom, instead Sonya's changing in the corner, next to the wardrobe. "Not often."
"Well." Taking a moment, a pause from positioning the tripod mounted camera. Looking over and Sonya looks back. I shrug. "For a good cause right?"
"True."
Slipping the outfit on, walking over and taking my hand, I look at her. The serious expression.
"Not sure I can do this a third time though."
"Okay." Easy shrug, it's fine. Not a deal breaker. "Not easy surrendering huh?"
"Just feels weird." Small quick laugh. "Odd. And I don't mind." A shrug. "With you, for shoots. But it's not me."
"Okay."
"Sure?" Searching my face, biting her lip. "I still want to work all tomorrow, just."
"Maybe no more sub stuff, unless you feel up to it?"
"Yes."
"That's fine."
And it is.
Though in the flow of it all I miss the wider implication: Sonya not being tied means she'll only be binding me.
"So," striking a pose, teasing grin hands on hips, chest pushed forward and legs apart one slightly bent, "how do I look Plymouth?"
She's wearing a babydoll. Thin black shoulder straps running down to cups in leopard print, deep plunging neckline and plenty of E cup cleavage. Below an elasticated band hugs Sonya's. Flame's now, the switch seamless yet there. The band hugs the top part to her chest, below which the babydoll flares out, black lace with a hem just below the waist. Not at all covering the small black string and leopard print triangles thong.
Bare flesh for days and me still dressed in jeans and my vest top.
"Amazing." Smiling and nodding approval. "Flame."
"Great."
"So." Gestured wave at the bed. "I lay down, in the middle?"
"On the far side." Gesturing too. "Hands above your head, legs together."
"Right." Climbing up, kneeling in the rough centre, looking at and facing me. "And then?"
"I'll get you bound, gagged." A nod as I think and say the plan almost straight after. "Take a bunch of photos, couple with me in it."
"Cool." Nodding, small grin.
"Then shoot film, not long just of you laid all tied up. Waiting like."
"Waiting for you?"
"Sure."
"To come enjoy me?"
"Or whatever." Shrugging. "Just, waiting. Leave the why up to whoever watches."
"Right." Thumbs up, Flame gets into position.
Couple of deep breaths, a testament to the fact she really doesn't love being bound. And a nod. Ready.
I get her tied up, or locked up more accurately. Going for cuffs and chains as a last minute idea strikes.
Possibly easier for Flame, the cuffs not digging in, and quicker to set up too so less time spent helpless.
Showing her the key, professional courtesy and maybe it'll help the nerves too? And then I use the first pair of cuffs- heavy duty steel, police issue style -on her wrists.
Click click of the mechanism and Flame shivers.
"Okay?" Gets me a small smile, a nod.
Cuffs on her ankles too, and then I use the long chain: it's fairly thick, heavy enough to clank and thud if I dropped it. I wrap one end over the small chain between Flame's wrist cuffs, locking link to link with a padlock, then manage, with much grunting and cursing.
Flame laughing.
To feed the chain down and under the bed, coming up at the foot end.
Flame gasping, biting her lip as I take hold of both ankles and tug pulling her down the bed. Straightening her arms. After which I wrap the chain around the leg cuff chain, locking it off.
Locking her in.
"Gag?"
"What?" Blinking, small fidget but I've locked her too flat. Ridged and stretched. No place to go. "Right. Sure." Blowing out a breath. "Only. Could I...."
"You okay?"
"Could we kiss?" Laughing, brief and loud. "First. Only...."
Voice trailing off. And she's fine, not panicked. Just not used to it.
"Course." Dropping the scarf beside her, climbing up and half climbing half rolling across Flames splayed body. Coming to rest laid beside her on the bed, one hand resting on her belly.
Close, my face hovering beside hers.
Flame blows out a breath, slightly shaky. Stares at the ceiling.
"I'm just going to have to punish you."
"That right?" Did she notice the brief spasm of my hand?
"Definitely." A tight nod. "Can't tie up a Domme and not get punished for it."
"Guess not."
Kick like jolt inside as Flame's words bring on a pair of memories. Because, technically if we're keeping score there are two Dommes out there. Somewhere. Who owe me revenge.
Punishment.
"I'll spank you tomorrow."
"For a shoot?"
Turning her head, slow, to regard me and I feel a second kick in the belly as our eyes meet. Literal flame behind her gaze.
"Tomorrow." Said with all the force of a person not actually tied. "Plymouth."
"Okay." And my voice small, and if right now she told me to switch places I would.
If she told me I was remaining cuffed all night I'd nod. Yes. Of course whatever you wish.
The chasm, loose cliffs and me stumbling at the edge.
But then she laughs, all a game. A shoot, for fun and no consequences or threats. The Domme vanishing like smoke.
"Gag me." A nod, despite we haven't kissed. "Do the shoot then we can go get pissed in the bar."
"Sure." I smile, sit back up. Somewhat confused and feeling out of snych with the flow of events but. "Great plan."
Back to work.
Flame has to lift her head, and even then it isn't easy gagging her. Pushing the scarf between her head and raised arms. Unable to comment with the wool in place she nonetheless rolls her eyes.
I shrug back, straightening up from reaching around behind her, tying a double knot.
"Right." Kneeling, hands on my upper legs. "I'm going to take a mass of photos, cover the angles you. I. Can delete at will later. I'll do a couple with me laid beside you and such. Like teasing."
Brief muffled laugh from Flame. I grin back, pat her belly.
"I know, but it'll go down well. I'll let the tripod cameras roll for the duration, and will shoot some close up video too. Again, you and me can edit later to taste." Thinking, anything else?
No.
"Okay?"
Flame nods. I fetch the camera, pausing at the others, at my laptop, to set everything rolling.
She remains still, body tense due to the tightness of the chain, likely tense due to other factors too. But Flame handles the 'oddness'- her word -well. Looking at the camera, me, when I ask, in a not commanding simply suggesting tone.
Stripping down to my underwear, that pink bra matched with white lace boyshorts I take a double handful of selfie photos: laid beside Flame camera held out, up and lens pointing down. Kissing her cheek, smiling. Teasing.
Trusting the tripod mounted stuff, knowing we can both make stills from the footage, so long as we're both.
Still.
I fetch a book. Flame coughing out a gagged laugh as I sit beside her, leaning back against the headboard. Pretending to read like I care nothing at all for the sexy chained girl laying next to me.
And when I'm done, photos over, video time, in my opinion she's great. Minimal struggles, but that's an esthetic all its own. She moans, quietly, occasionally tensing her limbs, but there's no fighting the cuffs, no rattle of chains being tested and worked at.
It wouldn't make a good long video, too little action, but as a four or five minute piece, a couple of swooping closeups of breasts and pussy, face. As something short it's brilliant.
"Perfect."
"Yeah?" Doubt, flexing her arms and sitting up whilst I come around the bed, key in hand to free her ankles. "You sure?"
"Sure I'm sure." Hunkering down. "You look great, the babydoll. And I know it isn't you, so much, but the bondage came out well."
"Good." Nodding, and a small smile when I glance up.
That glow inside, compliments.
"Still want that drink?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
"Right." I tug on the top of her outfit, the deep cleavage offering front. "Best change then."
"Ha." Snagging me back, the same move pulling my bra front, letting go so it pings back. "You mean this doesn't count as acceptable clothing in the bar?"
"Well." Stepping back, hands on hips and a grin. "Some places I've been in."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Sounds like a fun night out."
Nodding and thoughtful, prehaps trying to imagine. Work? Or was I there to play? But she doesn't ask, as we change or in my case slip jeans and top back on. No shoes since we're only walking to the onsite bar.
Time to wind down.
Shoot three.
"You know I don't normally let people tie me up." No longer bothering with the bathroom, instead Sonya's changing in the corner, next to the wardrobe. "Not often."
"Well." Taking a moment, a pause from positioning the tripod mounted camera. Looking over and Sonya looks back. I shrug. "For a good cause right?"
"True."
Slipping the outfit on, walking over and taking my hand, I look at her. The serious expression.
"Not sure I can do this a third time though."
"Okay." Easy shrug, it's fine. Not a deal breaker. "Not easy surrendering huh?"
"Just feels weird." Small quick laugh. "Odd. And I don't mind." A shrug. "With you, for shoots. But it's not me."
"Okay."
"Sure?" Searching my face, biting her lip. "I still want to work all tomorrow, just."
"Maybe no more sub stuff, unless you feel up to it?"
"Yes."
"That's fine."
And it is.
Though in the flow of it all I miss the wider implication: Sonya not being tied means she'll only be binding me.
"So," striking a pose, teasing grin hands on hips, chest pushed forward and legs apart one slightly bent, "how do I look Plymouth?"
She's wearing a babydoll. Thin black shoulder straps running down to cups in leopard print, deep plunging neckline and plenty of E cup cleavage. Below an elasticated band hugs Sonya's. Flame's now, the switch seamless yet there. The band hugs the top part to her chest, below which the babydoll flares out, black lace with a hem just below the waist. Not at all covering the small black string and leopard print triangles thong.
Bare flesh for days and me still dressed in jeans and my vest top.
"Amazing." Smiling and nodding approval. "Flame."
"Great."
"So." Gestured wave at the bed. "I lay down, in the middle?"
"On the far side." Gesturing too. "Hands above your head, legs together."
"Right." Climbing up, kneeling in the rough centre, looking at and facing me. "And then?"
"I'll get you bound, gagged." A nod as I think and say the plan almost straight after. "Take a bunch of photos, couple with me in it."
"Cool." Nodding, small grin.
"Then shoot film, not long just of you laid all tied up. Waiting like."
"Waiting for you?"
"Sure."
"To come enjoy me?"
"Or whatever." Shrugging. "Just, waiting. Leave the why up to whoever watches."
"Right." Thumbs up, Flame gets into position.
Couple of deep breaths, a testament to the fact she really doesn't love being bound. And a nod. Ready.
I get her tied up, or locked up more accurately. Going for cuffs and chains as a last minute idea strikes.
Possibly easier for Flame, the cuffs not digging in, and quicker to set up too so less time spent helpless.
Showing her the key, professional courtesy and maybe it'll help the nerves too? And then I use the first pair of cuffs- heavy duty steel, police issue style -on her wrists.
Click click of the mechanism and Flame shivers.
"Okay?" Gets me a small smile, a nod.
Cuffs on her ankles too, and then I use the long chain: it's fairly thick, heavy enough to clank and thud if I dropped it. I wrap one end over the small chain between Flame's wrist cuffs, locking link to link with a padlock, then manage, with much grunting and cursing.
Flame laughing.
To feed the chain down and under the bed, coming up at the foot end.
Flame gasping, biting her lip as I take hold of both ankles and tug pulling her down the bed. Straightening her arms. After which I wrap the chain around the leg cuff chain, locking it off.
Locking her in.
"Gag?"
"What?" Blinking, small fidget but I've locked her too flat. Ridged and stretched. No place to go. "Right. Sure." Blowing out a breath. "Only. Could I...."
"You okay?"
"Could we kiss?" Laughing, brief and loud. "First. Only...."
Voice trailing off. And she's fine, not panicked. Just not used to it.
"Course." Dropping the scarf beside her, climbing up and half climbing half rolling across Flames splayed body. Coming to rest laid beside her on the bed, one hand resting on her belly.
Close, my face hovering beside hers.
Flame blows out a breath, slightly shaky. Stares at the ceiling.
"I'm just going to have to punish you."
"That right?" Did she notice the brief spasm of my hand?
"Definitely." A tight nod. "Can't tie up a Domme and not get punished for it."
"Guess not."
Kick like jolt inside as Flame's words bring on a pair of memories. Because, technically if we're keeping score there are two Dommes out there. Somewhere. Who owe me revenge.
Punishment.
"I'll spank you tomorrow."
"For a shoot?"
Turning her head, slow, to regard me and I feel a second kick in the belly as our eyes meet. Literal flame behind her gaze.
"Tomorrow." Said with all the force of a person not actually tied. "Plymouth."
"Okay." And my voice small, and if right now she told me to switch places I would.
If she told me I was remaining cuffed all night I'd nod. Yes. Of course whatever you wish.
The chasm, loose cliffs and me stumbling at the edge.
But then she laughs, all a game. A shoot, for fun and no consequences or threats. The Domme vanishing like smoke.
"Gag me." A nod, despite we haven't kissed. "Do the shoot then we can go get pissed in the bar."
"Sure." I smile, sit back up. Somewhat confused and feeling out of snych with the flow of events but. "Great plan."
Back to work.
Flame has to lift her head, and even then it isn't easy gagging her. Pushing the scarf between her head and raised arms. Unable to comment with the wool in place she nonetheless rolls her eyes.
I shrug back, straightening up from reaching around behind her, tying a double knot.
"Right." Kneeling, hands on my upper legs. "I'm going to take a mass of photos, cover the angles you. I. Can delete at will later. I'll do a couple with me laid beside you and such. Like teasing."
Brief muffled laugh from Flame. I grin back, pat her belly.
"I know, but it'll go down well. I'll let the tripod cameras roll for the duration, and will shoot some close up video too. Again, you and me can edit later to taste." Thinking, anything else?
No.
"Okay?"
Flame nods. I fetch the camera, pausing at the others, at my laptop, to set everything rolling.
She remains still, body tense due to the tightness of the chain, likely tense due to other factors too. But Flame handles the 'oddness'- her word -well. Looking at the camera, me, when I ask, in a not commanding simply suggesting tone.
Stripping down to my underwear, that pink bra matched with white lace boyshorts I take a double handful of selfie photos: laid beside Flame camera held out, up and lens pointing down. Kissing her cheek, smiling. Teasing.
Trusting the tripod mounted stuff, knowing we can both make stills from the footage, so long as we're both.
Still.
I fetch a book. Flame coughing out a gagged laugh as I sit beside her, leaning back against the headboard. Pretending to read like I care nothing at all for the sexy chained girl laying next to me.
And when I'm done, photos over, video time, in my opinion she's great. Minimal struggles, but that's an esthetic all its own. She moans, quietly, occasionally tensing her limbs, but there's no fighting the cuffs, no rattle of chains being tested and worked at.
It wouldn't make a good long video, too little action, but as a four or five minute piece, a couple of swooping closeups of breasts and pussy, face. As something short it's brilliant.
"Perfect."
"Yeah?" Doubt, flexing her arms and sitting up whilst I come around the bed, key in hand to free her ankles. "You sure?"
"Sure I'm sure." Hunkering down. "You look great, the babydoll. And I know it isn't you, so much, but the bondage came out well."
"Good." Nodding, and a small smile when I glance up.
That glow inside, compliments.
"Still want that drink?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely."
"Right." I tug on the top of her outfit, the deep cleavage offering front. "Best change then."
"Ha." Snagging me back, the same move pulling my bra front, letting go so it pings back. "You mean this doesn't count as acceptable clothing in the bar?"
"Well." Stepping back, hands on hips and a grin. "Some places I've been in."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Sounds like a fun night out."
Nodding and thoughtful, prehaps trying to imagine. Work? Or was I there to play? But she doesn't ask, as we change or in my case slip jeans and top back on. No shoes since we're only walking to the onsite bar.
Time to wind down.
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 284
- Joined: 1 year ago
Some interesting tension going on - Sonya poking fun as it were, and Brooke overreacting, reading more into it then is there.
At least it seems.
Ether way, for all the assurances she gives herself internally, certainly Brooke does not seem to ever be fully in control. She more or less admits to herself as much, but the fact that she insisted on tying Sonya next is the strongest sign of this - of uncertainty. When one is actually in control of a situation, one does not need to constantly reassert it
At least it seems.
Ether way, for all the assurances she gives herself internally, certainly Brooke does not seem to ever be fully in control. She more or less admits to herself as much, but the fact that she insisted on tying Sonya next is the strongest sign of this - of uncertainty. When one is actually in control of a situation, one does not need to constantly reassert it
Should be 'perhaps', but I did like this description of Brooke's mixed feelings.
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Switchgirl
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 46
- Joined: 1 year ago
Plymouth is my fave character on this site (and I have a few!) - so complex - she knows what she wants (total submission) but is terrified of her past and how deep that submission goes….
As usual brilliantly written and descriptions leave me desperate for more!
As usual brilliantly written and descriptions leave me desperate for more!
It should? Probably mix that up often, so thanks.BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑1 week agoShould be 'perhaps', but I did like this description of Brooke's mixed feelings.
definitely back, having fun with it, with her.Thank you, truly
that's so nice to discover/read. Means a lot that she even figures on the list, let alone top spot.Next chapters below.
Just want to say, the ending....
Might not be telegraphing what you think....
Drinking and Talking.
Time passes, early evening flowing seamlessly into late. And we talk, and drink.
-------
"You're sure I did okay?"
"Yes." Clinking glasses, I'm more a spirits girl but Sonya likes pints, so I've switched to join her lest I get too pissed too fast. "Some reason you think otherwise?"
Because she'd seemed unsure, post shoot.
"Maybe I should've struggled more?" Taking a long draught, looking over the glass at me as it leaves her painted black lips. "Like you?"
"Well." Trying to picture it, taking a hurried- too fast -swallow of beer to drown the enticing imagery.
Coughing, and.
"Slow it down there Brooke." Leaning across the booth to pat leaning forward me on the back. "Still early yet."
"Right." Getting control, taking a smaller drink. Smiling. Okay.
"There's no checklist for playing the submissive." Playing. Ha. "No right and wrong."
"No?" Raised eyebrow, teasing.
"Not one I've ever seen." Not rising to the bait. "Point is, yes I struggle. Shake the canons and-"
"-Canons?"
I show her, small upper body wriggle and my F cups obediently bounce. Sonya laughs.
"What you did." Pausing to drink. "Sometimes less struggling works too. Playing up the resigned to her fate angle, or just being object like."
"Yeah?" Questioning tone, but slowly nodding. "Okay. So, you don't always fight the ropes?"
"No." Thinking. What memories I still have access to. "Depends on the shoot. Some riggers, sites have a script or plan. They want you to play it a certain way but." I smile, shrug no harm being a little honest. "If it's my choice, I'm always a fighter."
"Always?"
Well. No.
And that's the problem: my answer being correct only when we're discussing paid shoots, not bondage as a lifestyle. But I still won't go there, won't admit my sometimes not so secret, secret to Sonya.
"Just felt off."
"Because you aren't used to it." Drink down, leaning forwards hands resting on the table between us. "You're into it, but almost exclusively from a dominant angle right?"
"Pretty much."
"So, playing the submissive doesn't come naturally," like it does to me, "which means it felt weird. But trust me." A nod, a smile. "You did great."
Getting a natural smile back, no more frowns. Happier.
-------
"Can I ask...."
"Ask?" Sharing crisps, which is to say I've had two. So far, and the packet nearly empty.
"The scar."
"Right." Glancing down, seeing Sonya- corner of my vision -doing similar, as though we could both x-ray like stare though the table, my jeans.
And on cue my left leg itches, because I'm thinking about it. The scar is like a tree branch, broken into several pieces running from ankle to above the waist. No longer raw, now faded but visible, bisecting my inkwork.
Permanent.
"I fell off the bike."
"Not that sexy looking black beast?"
"It's a Hayabusa."
"Is it?" Returning my nod. "Such a cool name."
"Yes." I take a drink, smile. "Actually I crashed a chopper. Custom build." Shaking my head. "Slower bike."
"So you." Starting to laugh. "Crashed a bike, and then." Taking a breath, failing to contain the amusement. "Went and bought an even faster one."
"Pretty much."
I laugh too.
"I've got a scar here too." Running a finger along the left side of my head, hair now grown out to cover it. "It was pretty serious shit."
"Lucky to be alive?" Raised eyebrow, serious now.
"Maybe." I shrug. "Woke up and." Tutting, shaking my head. "Even now some stuff from my past I just can't recall."
"Fuck."
"Fuck indeed." Finishing my drink, downing the final third. "Took awhile, learning to live with the gaps, hazy stuff."
"Yeah." Finishing hers, standing and grabbing up my glass. "I'll bet."
-------
"What's your guilty pleasure?"
Three beers, or lagers for her, and two shots- my fault -in. Feeling a nice buzz and regarding Sonya across the table, pondering her question.
"You mean like baths, chocolate and crap?" I smirk. "Not bondage and whatever."
"Baths and crap." Nodding.
"Probably a bath. Especially after a long hard shoot." Thinking. "Or a long day shifting wood."
"Still can't quite believe you're a tree girl."
"No?" Smiling at her slightly- mellow on the way to drunk -too fast shaken head. "Well, come visit someday. I'll give you the tour."
"Okay." Casual, a nod. Why not.
"Anything special about this bath?"
"Like?"
"Do you drink wine or something in it? Eat fancy chocolate?"
"No." I smile, because when I do treat myself to chocolate it tends to not come in a fancy box. "And no."
"Oil or bubbles?"
"Bubbles."
"Can I tie you up in it?"
"Well." Meeting her cheeky grin. "Then it wouldn't exactly be a relaxing bath would it."
We both take a drink, Sonya waving her glass at me.
"Just saying, Brooke. That wasn't a no."
Silence, a handful of heartbeats, feeling something charged like a rising tingle.
"What about you." Breaking the moment. "Sonya?"
"Maybe...." Thinking, fiddling with her glass pushing it left and right across the table. "If my parents are out I like putting music on, cranking it way way loud."
"Okay. But." Frowning. "How is that guilty?"
"Well." Looking somewhat sheepish. "I like to put on West End stuff. Musicals and show tunes."
Which doesn't get the laugh she's clearly expecting. Granted it isn't what you'd expect an eighteen year old to listen to, but.
"If it's what you enjoy."
"I just love the music, the story but told in song. You know, happy and sad, different pitch and tempo."
Really enthusiastic, I can't help smiling.
-------
Playing the grabber game, a large clear sided box set up in one corner most likely to amuse the kids so parents can have a relatively quiet drink, arcade game- some modern take on Pacman -next to it. We're taking it in turns, blowing through our pound coin stockpile and slowly coaxing a pink Diplodocus, sky blue spines marching down its back, nearer the drop chute each time.
The grabber, happy to pick the dinosaur up, always loosens once airborne dropping our prize again. A little closer each time.
We've arrived at that part of drinking where certainly I've ceased caring about such things as personal space. Happy to lean right in close to Sonya on her turns.
"So is there a plan for tomorrow?" Arm around me, stood close I guess she doesn't care either. Drink will do that, drink and the on shoot intimacy we've already shared.
"We hadn't made one." Head shaking, trying to focus on the fluffy little sod. "Make it up as we go?"
"Sure." Holding her breath, going still as I send the grabber plunging.
No luck.
"Damn it."
"Move aside, Brooke." Playfully pushing in. "Let the pro handle this."
"Ha." Giving up ground and moving behind her, both arms around left and right. Hugging, head resting on Sonya's shoulder.
"You were binding me though," too drunk to care about hiding that I like, want it, "first thing I thought?"
"I was." Nodding, hand tap tapping the stick, grabber jerking a little each time.
"Going to." Sending the grabber claw down, turning within the hug to face me. "Be a whole day of you tied up."
"Okay."
"Yeah?" Amused smirk, and behind Sonya some kind of stattaco beeping. A quiet thumb as something, a prize maybe, gets dropped down a hole. Ignored by us both.
Reaching behind her, taking my hands and placing them at my back. Pinning them and my breath catches.
"Ready to be my bitch for the day are you?"
"Yes." Like a whisper, breathing again. Fast. Sonya's chest a rapid up down, mirroring mine.
She leans in. Pauses. Looking me in the eye then deliberately letting her gaze drop into the depths of my vest top revealing cleavage.
And some kid, three of them and all no older then eleven, if I had to judge. In their own world shouting and laughing, barging between us and the arcade machine.
Breaking the moment.
-------
"What's it like being in a gang?"
Back in the booth. Gnomon, Eater of Worlds on the table between us. Our prize, and we decided something that pink and cute deserved a truly fearsome name.
Beer number I've lost count, definitely buzzing. A good night.
"Well." Thinking, trying to fight through the drink, the haze. Remembering. "It's."
Waking up in the hospital bed, memory nothing but shattered fragments those first few days and then in they'd come: The Kings, a rabble in black leather all easy smiles and comradeship.
Morgan, just another King at that point, even in my state I'd picked up on her constant wandering eye.
"It's like a community, really." Nodding. "Plus, well."
Hazy, this one. I know it happened though. I. Know. Standing on grass, shouting and sobbing. Mad at someone. A guy? Someone who tricked me? And somehow it's all connected to Deborah.
Though I can't, won't ask her how.
But there, in that place with grass there were Kings at my back. Having, watching my back. Standing with me no questions.
"It's not a gang." Shaking my head. "Not like you're thinking, but we're there for each other. It's nice to belong."
"Sounds nice." Nodding, head resting on one hand elbow on the table, regarding me. Smiling.
-------
Sometime later, ejected not having realised the time. Not having really cared.
Stumbling upstairs, undressing, tumbling into separate sides of the bed.
Sleep claiming me, Sonya too.
Time passes, early evening flowing seamlessly into late. And we talk, and drink.
-------
"You're sure I did okay?"
"Yes." Clinking glasses, I'm more a spirits girl but Sonya likes pints, so I've switched to join her lest I get too pissed too fast. "Some reason you think otherwise?"
Because she'd seemed unsure, post shoot.
"Maybe I should've struggled more?" Taking a long draught, looking over the glass at me as it leaves her painted black lips. "Like you?"
"Well." Trying to picture it, taking a hurried- too fast -swallow of beer to drown the enticing imagery.
Coughing, and.
"Slow it down there Brooke." Leaning across the booth to pat leaning forward me on the back. "Still early yet."
"Right." Getting control, taking a smaller drink. Smiling. Okay.
"There's no checklist for playing the submissive." Playing. Ha. "No right and wrong."
"No?" Raised eyebrow, teasing.
"Not one I've ever seen." Not rising to the bait. "Point is, yes I struggle. Shake the canons and-"
"-Canons?"
I show her, small upper body wriggle and my F cups obediently bounce. Sonya laughs.
"What you did." Pausing to drink. "Sometimes less struggling works too. Playing up the resigned to her fate angle, or just being object like."
"Yeah?" Questioning tone, but slowly nodding. "Okay. So, you don't always fight the ropes?"
"No." Thinking. What memories I still have access to. "Depends on the shoot. Some riggers, sites have a script or plan. They want you to play it a certain way but." I smile, shrug no harm being a little honest. "If it's my choice, I'm always a fighter."
"Always?"
Well. No.
And that's the problem: my answer being correct only when we're discussing paid shoots, not bondage as a lifestyle. But I still won't go there, won't admit my sometimes not so secret, secret to Sonya.
"Just felt off."
"Because you aren't used to it." Drink down, leaning forwards hands resting on the table between us. "You're into it, but almost exclusively from a dominant angle right?"
"Pretty much."
"So, playing the submissive doesn't come naturally," like it does to me, "which means it felt weird. But trust me." A nod, a smile. "You did great."
Getting a natural smile back, no more frowns. Happier.
-------
"Can I ask...."
"Ask?" Sharing crisps, which is to say I've had two. So far, and the packet nearly empty.
"The scar."
"Right." Glancing down, seeing Sonya- corner of my vision -doing similar, as though we could both x-ray like stare though the table, my jeans.
And on cue my left leg itches, because I'm thinking about it. The scar is like a tree branch, broken into several pieces running from ankle to above the waist. No longer raw, now faded but visible, bisecting my inkwork.
Permanent.
"I fell off the bike."
"Not that sexy looking black beast?"
"It's a Hayabusa."
"Is it?" Returning my nod. "Such a cool name."
"Yes." I take a drink, smile. "Actually I crashed a chopper. Custom build." Shaking my head. "Slower bike."
"So you." Starting to laugh. "Crashed a bike, and then." Taking a breath, failing to contain the amusement. "Went and bought an even faster one."
"Pretty much."
I laugh too.
"I've got a scar here too." Running a finger along the left side of my head, hair now grown out to cover it. "It was pretty serious shit."
"Lucky to be alive?" Raised eyebrow, serious now.
"Maybe." I shrug. "Woke up and." Tutting, shaking my head. "Even now some stuff from my past I just can't recall."
"Fuck."
"Fuck indeed." Finishing my drink, downing the final third. "Took awhile, learning to live with the gaps, hazy stuff."
"Yeah." Finishing hers, standing and grabbing up my glass. "I'll bet."
-------
"What's your guilty pleasure?"
Three beers, or lagers for her, and two shots- my fault -in. Feeling a nice buzz and regarding Sonya across the table, pondering her question.
"You mean like baths, chocolate and crap?" I smirk. "Not bondage and whatever."
"Baths and crap." Nodding.
"Probably a bath. Especially after a long hard shoot." Thinking. "Or a long day shifting wood."
"Still can't quite believe you're a tree girl."
"No?" Smiling at her slightly- mellow on the way to drunk -too fast shaken head. "Well, come visit someday. I'll give you the tour."
"Okay." Casual, a nod. Why not.
"Anything special about this bath?"
"Like?"
"Do you drink wine or something in it? Eat fancy chocolate?"
"No." I smile, because when I do treat myself to chocolate it tends to not come in a fancy box. "And no."
"Oil or bubbles?"
"Bubbles."
"Can I tie you up in it?"
"Well." Meeting her cheeky grin. "Then it wouldn't exactly be a relaxing bath would it."
We both take a drink, Sonya waving her glass at me.
"Just saying, Brooke. That wasn't a no."
Silence, a handful of heartbeats, feeling something charged like a rising tingle.
"What about you." Breaking the moment. "Sonya?"
"Maybe...." Thinking, fiddling with her glass pushing it left and right across the table. "If my parents are out I like putting music on, cranking it way way loud."
"Okay. But." Frowning. "How is that guilty?"
"Well." Looking somewhat sheepish. "I like to put on West End stuff. Musicals and show tunes."
Which doesn't get the laugh she's clearly expecting. Granted it isn't what you'd expect an eighteen year old to listen to, but.
"If it's what you enjoy."
"I just love the music, the story but told in song. You know, happy and sad, different pitch and tempo."
Really enthusiastic, I can't help smiling.
-------
Playing the grabber game, a large clear sided box set up in one corner most likely to amuse the kids so parents can have a relatively quiet drink, arcade game- some modern take on Pacman -next to it. We're taking it in turns, blowing through our pound coin stockpile and slowly coaxing a pink Diplodocus, sky blue spines marching down its back, nearer the drop chute each time.
The grabber, happy to pick the dinosaur up, always loosens once airborne dropping our prize again. A little closer each time.
We've arrived at that part of drinking where certainly I've ceased caring about such things as personal space. Happy to lean right in close to Sonya on her turns.
"So is there a plan for tomorrow?" Arm around me, stood close I guess she doesn't care either. Drink will do that, drink and the on shoot intimacy we've already shared.
"We hadn't made one." Head shaking, trying to focus on the fluffy little sod. "Make it up as we go?"
"Sure." Holding her breath, going still as I send the grabber plunging.
No luck.
"Damn it."
"Move aside, Brooke." Playfully pushing in. "Let the pro handle this."
"Ha." Giving up ground and moving behind her, both arms around left and right. Hugging, head resting on Sonya's shoulder.
"You were binding me though," too drunk to care about hiding that I like, want it, "first thing I thought?"
"I was." Nodding, hand tap tapping the stick, grabber jerking a little each time.
"Going to." Sending the grabber claw down, turning within the hug to face me. "Be a whole day of you tied up."
"Okay."
"Yeah?" Amused smirk, and behind Sonya some kind of stattaco beeping. A quiet thumb as something, a prize maybe, gets dropped down a hole. Ignored by us both.
Reaching behind her, taking my hands and placing them at my back. Pinning them and my breath catches.
"Ready to be my bitch for the day are you?"
"Yes." Like a whisper, breathing again. Fast. Sonya's chest a rapid up down, mirroring mine.
She leans in. Pauses. Looking me in the eye then deliberately letting her gaze drop into the depths of my vest top revealing cleavage.
And some kid, three of them and all no older then eleven, if I had to judge. In their own world shouting and laughing, barging between us and the arcade machine.
Breaking the moment.
-------
"What's it like being in a gang?"
Back in the booth. Gnomon, Eater of Worlds on the table between us. Our prize, and we decided something that pink and cute deserved a truly fearsome name.
Beer number I've lost count, definitely buzzing. A good night.
"Well." Thinking, trying to fight through the drink, the haze. Remembering. "It's."
Waking up in the hospital bed, memory nothing but shattered fragments those first few days and then in they'd come: The Kings, a rabble in black leather all easy smiles and comradeship.
Morgan, just another King at that point, even in my state I'd picked up on her constant wandering eye.
"It's like a community, really." Nodding. "Plus, well."
Hazy, this one. I know it happened though. I. Know. Standing on grass, shouting and sobbing. Mad at someone. A guy? Someone who tricked me? And somehow it's all connected to Deborah.
Though I can't, won't ask her how.
But there, in that place with grass there were Kings at my back. Having, watching my back. Standing with me no questions.
"It's not a gang." Shaking my head. "Not like you're thinking, but we're there for each other. It's nice to belong."
"Sounds nice." Nodding, head resting on one hand elbow on the table, regarding me. Smiling.
-------
Sometime later, ejected not having realised the time. Not having really cared.
Stumbling upstairs, undressing, tumbling into separate sides of the bed.
Sleep claiming me, Sonya too.
005.
Were we supposed to set an alarm?
Because alongside possibly forgetting to do that, we forgot to close the curtains too. Although despite dawn arriving shockingly early we're both far too wasted for mere sunlight to rouse us.
Instead waking comes slowly, awareness of tangled limbs. Sonya, and I'm pressed into her from behind, one hand underneath the pillow my other loosely gripping her naked breast, whilst one of her arms is pinned between us, hand resting on my crotch.
Although, drunk yes but I'm sure. Definitely. We didn't fuck, I don't even think we cuddled, just stripped naked clothes being flung and dropped to all corners, then collapsed into bed.
No clue who cuddled who, at some point during the night although evidence suggests I came to her.
And now I'm awake I can hear Sonya snoring. A low sound, constant but not intrusive.
And, awake, I need to pee.
"Turn off the fucking light." Like an angry moan, and I turn halfway across the room to see Sonya burying her head under the covers.
"Turn off the sun?" Amused, continuing towards the bathroom because I'm quite desperate. "Morning."
"Fuck." Sound of the bed shifting, pad of feet and Sonya walks in. Naked still, as am I. Coming to stand beside sitting on the toilet me, facing the mirror and running and hand through sleep messed hair.
"Fuck."
"Don't think we did." Feeling quite good, despite the drink I can still feel sloshing around. I'm a natural morning person, holdover from so long working outdoors, up with the sun to catch a start.
And clearly- scowling at my happy tones -Sonya isn't.
"Ha." Shaking her head but managing a half smile and pulling me into a one armed hug as I stand up and turn, washing my hands in the sink. "Sorry, I'm not good first thing."
"Okay." Leaning into the hug, head turned sidewards, small peck like kiss to her cheek. "Want some coffee?"
"Please."
I nod, leave Sonya to her own bathroom business having splashed water on my face.
Make us both coffee from the in room kettle.
"Black okay?" Holding out a mug. Shrugging an apology. "No milk."
"Black's perfect." Nodding thanks, both of us silent whilst we drink, a handful of minutes. I locate my phone in the pocket of jeans discarded and flung, Sonya doing the same.
Checking messages.
And maybe it seems weird, to you, that we're both still naked. Not reaching for clothes or even a robe. Towel. Sonya seeming as comfortable as I feel with the situation, despite we aren't dating, haven't fucked.
Aside from yesterday's shoot.
Which, therein lies the point. Porn. Modelling if you want to not be blunt, doing porn strips away that part of you bothered by casual nudity. By this point I could walk around Tesco sans clothes, not even bothered by who happened to be looking.
"So." Phone on the counter, feeling refreshed. Better. "Plan for today?"
"We're shooting, right?"
"Definitely." Remembering what she'd said, checking. "Solely you binding me though?"
"I mean." Looking across the space at me, pulling a face. "I don't. Hate, you binding me, I'm just not sure if I'll be in the right mindset today."
"I get it." Because I do, the submissive stuff comes easy to natural rope slut me, as does binding some other girl, for fun or a fun based shoot.
But I've done deep Domme stuff, once or twice, and I can't without being in the zone.
"It's fine." Nodding, standing and taking both our mugs. "If things change, if I get an idea I'll voice it and we'll see. Otherwise." A shrug. "We'll stick to you binding me."
"Thanks."
"All good." I smile, happy and wanting to show Sonya the fact. To reassure because she looks uncertain.
"So," looking around the room, "any thoughts what to do first?"
Were we supposed to set an alarm?
Because alongside possibly forgetting to do that, we forgot to close the curtains too. Although despite dawn arriving shockingly early we're both far too wasted for mere sunlight to rouse us.
Instead waking comes slowly, awareness of tangled limbs. Sonya, and I'm pressed into her from behind, one hand underneath the pillow my other loosely gripping her naked breast, whilst one of her arms is pinned between us, hand resting on my crotch.
Although, drunk yes but I'm sure. Definitely. We didn't fuck, I don't even think we cuddled, just stripped naked clothes being flung and dropped to all corners, then collapsed into bed.
No clue who cuddled who, at some point during the night although evidence suggests I came to her.
And now I'm awake I can hear Sonya snoring. A low sound, constant but not intrusive.
And, awake, I need to pee.
"Turn off the fucking light." Like an angry moan, and I turn halfway across the room to see Sonya burying her head under the covers.
"Turn off the sun?" Amused, continuing towards the bathroom because I'm quite desperate. "Morning."
"Fuck." Sound of the bed shifting, pad of feet and Sonya walks in. Naked still, as am I. Coming to stand beside sitting on the toilet me, facing the mirror and running and hand through sleep messed hair.
"Fuck."
"Don't think we did." Feeling quite good, despite the drink I can still feel sloshing around. I'm a natural morning person, holdover from so long working outdoors, up with the sun to catch a start.
And clearly- scowling at my happy tones -Sonya isn't.
"Ha." Shaking her head but managing a half smile and pulling me into a one armed hug as I stand up and turn, washing my hands in the sink. "Sorry, I'm not good first thing."
"Okay." Leaning into the hug, head turned sidewards, small peck like kiss to her cheek. "Want some coffee?"
"Please."
I nod, leave Sonya to her own bathroom business having splashed water on my face.
Make us both coffee from the in room kettle.
"Black okay?" Holding out a mug. Shrugging an apology. "No milk."
"Black's perfect." Nodding thanks, both of us silent whilst we drink, a handful of minutes. I locate my phone in the pocket of jeans discarded and flung, Sonya doing the same.
Checking messages.
And maybe it seems weird, to you, that we're both still naked. Not reaching for clothes or even a robe. Towel. Sonya seeming as comfortable as I feel with the situation, despite we aren't dating, haven't fucked.
Aside from yesterday's shoot.
Which, therein lies the point. Porn. Modelling if you want to not be blunt, doing porn strips away that part of you bothered by casual nudity. By this point I could walk around Tesco sans clothes, not even bothered by who happened to be looking.
"So." Phone on the counter, feeling refreshed. Better. "Plan for today?"
"We're shooting, right?"
"Definitely." Remembering what she'd said, checking. "Solely you binding me though?"
"I mean." Looking across the space at me, pulling a face. "I don't. Hate, you binding me, I'm just not sure if I'll be in the right mindset today."
"I get it." Because I do, the submissive stuff comes easy to natural rope slut me, as does binding some other girl, for fun or a fun based shoot.
But I've done deep Domme stuff, once or twice, and I can't without being in the zone.
"It's fine." Nodding, standing and taking both our mugs. "If things change, if I get an idea I'll voice it and we'll see. Otherwise." A shrug. "We'll stick to you binding me."
"Thanks."
"All good." I smile, happy and wanting to show Sonya the fact. To reassure because she looks uncertain.
"So," looking around the room, "any thoughts what to do first?"
Flame binds Plymouth.
Shoot four.
I bought sleepwear too, in the shop yesterday, seeking out something to bind Sonya in for the third shoot.
Only fair she'd said, half insisted in that Domme way that she gets to do for me back.
A nightie, black. Thin straps and backless down to my butt, falling and curving in a gentle U shape. The cups hug my Canon F's, each one with a teasing gap, an opening up the middle poorly sealed by red lace up thread. And, teasing plus because this is a shoot, of course I've jiggled and manoeuvred my breasts so both nipples are in the gap, poking through between the thread.
The rest of the nightie is a fine black mesh, hugging my size six toned belly only flaring slightly below the waist, the hem barely covering my naked- no thong -crotch.
Sonya's idea, the fourth shoot, and the first today before we even venture from the room for a late breakfast, early lunch. Her plan is an almost copy of mine, with her own twists thrown in of course.
Utilising a bunch of the Domme things she bought along.
I'm- now -laid down, in bed on one side, laid on my side, covers a felt thing the duvet pulled up to my shoulders.
As though I'm asleep.
There's an armbinder: like a black sleeve that Sonya helped me wriggle into, both arms behind me the sleeve wider at the top, narrowing and with no hole at the bottom. It contains, captures both my arms, lacing up along the length to further restrict and force my arms together, plus there are twin belts running from shoulder down around the front, crossing above my chest and plunging under the opposite armpit, buckling up to hold the sleeve tightly in place so I can't just shrug it off.
With that on she'd helped me lay down, then came the belts.
Ankles, knees, upper thighs. A thick black leather band around each place, buckled tight, and two more: below the breasts and at my waist, pinning the armbinder, my arms, to me.
A final belt, looped between my ankles, securing them to to a ring at the armbinder sleeves base, placing me in a surprisingly- given it's belts and such, no rope -secure and immobile feeling hogtie.
"Damn but you make a sexy submissive Plymouth."
"Why thank you." Playful tone to cover, hopefully, my blush. The compliment landing all the harder given how aroused being bound makes me. I'm low level buzzing, already.
"So." Having smiled back, kneeling beside me in sight, Sonya shows me the final piece to be added, raised eyebrow like a question. Nodding back when I nod.
Okay.
"Great. So, I'll. Basically." A shrug. Thinking it seems. "Play, for awhile. Okay?"
"Sure." Small wriggle, not trying to tease merely unable to resist testing. Checking.
But I see Sonya's eyes tracking the move all the same, drawn to my bouncing chest and all round helplessness.
"Ready when you are."
"Right."
Sonya leans in, fixing the hood in place. Black latex, hugging my whole head no eye holes and only two tiny openings for the nostrils. I feel her lacing the back up, stopping often to fix my hair lest I catch and painfully snag.
Nice of her.
The hood comes with an in-built gag, a ball already half filling my mouth and on the outside there's a tube running off the front, attached to a pump, something you squeeze to inflate the gag.
Which I feel, muffled sounds of the pumping, feeling the gag grow larger, larger. Pushing my jaws wider, further apart.
Mouth becoming full, stretched and I begin to moan, to wriggle. But Sonya keeps pumping. And I, not panicked, too into it: blind now and gagged, secured and properly helpless I feel.
All over tingles, a buzz of adrenaline. So I'm not panicked or distressed, I'm having a great time.
Truly.
A handful more pumps, and stop.
Feeling the bed shift, laying still, waiting. Feel of the duvet lifted up to cover me to the shoulders after Sonya rolls me onto my side.
Mentally picturing her starting the camera's, clicking my laptop which I'd walked her through.
Shift of the mattress as she climbs back onto the bed, shift of the duvet as she slides under.
Brief kiss on my hooded cheek.
And, still.
Film no doubt rolling, and Sonya's plan, her theme here is basically a Domme waking up beside her bound submissive.
Creak, muffled everything muffled and rendered less by the hood. Movement I feel passed through the bed. I remain still, deciding to feign sleep, believing there's a cue coming, that Sonya. Flame. will show me when to 'wake up.'
"Well." Muffled, as I said, but I can just about make out the words. "Good morning slave."
Greeting accompanied by the feel of her, press of a body against mine, hand gripping my butt cheek long nailed finger pressing. Insistent, at my hole.
"Mmmnnggghh ffftttrrrrmmmm." Stretching against the belts and armbinder, pushing my chest towards Flame, my Domme, in welcome.
Yes. Good morning Mistress, I'm happy to be with you.
Finger rubbing up and down my crack, teasing and.
"Dddrrrrgggmmmm nnmmnn rrssssfffggglll." Another stretch, a wriggle what little struggling I can do. Not much.
Pussy wet, nipples stab like, erect.
And my mind falls away, as the questing finger at my butt becomes an eager hand squeezing and teasing my breast. Mentally I blink.
And there's a black haired girl laying here, who I can't see but can feel the pressure of her enhanced breasts pressed to mine, can picture the Kraken inked onto and climbing up her muscular frame. A strong girl, enough to overpower toned me.
And the hotel room changes too, becoming a bedroom. Goth like decor and beside the bed a cage.
My cage, into which I'll likely be returned once fun has been had, once I'm no longer needed. Wanted.
The name, a ghost whisper through my head, the wind.
Deborah.
No more pressure of her body on mine, instead a second hand joins the first. Deborah sliding a finger up and down my pussy slit.
Teasing.
"Rrrggggmmmnnnn." Thrusting my crotch forward. Yes. Take me, have me and use me. Please. "Ffggggppppp dddrrrtttmmnn-" Stopped abruptly by a harsh bite to my nipple, moan becoming a gasp. Mixed pleasure and pain.
Deborah, enjoying me and-
"That's right slave." Flame, it's Flame. And this is a shoot.
"Cum for me." Fingers inside me now, plunging in and out, forceful and fast, speeding me towards the climax. "Dirty slut." A slap to my nipple. "Slave."
"Ffgggmm. Mmmnmm. Dddtttgg. Ttrrggmmnnn." Each grunted moan coming breathlessly, the gag, only those small nostril holes, I'm panting.
Bucking body being used and she's riding me, laid beside but riding me, playing me.
Deborah, taking her fun, using me like a doll, a fucktoy her personal amusement. And I can't stop her, don't want to.
Bucking and struggling, fighting. Panting whilst my pussy is finger fucked and my nipples are bitten, pinched. Breasts groped. Butt slapped.
Whilst Deborah.
Flame.
Flame, the shoot she's filming this, me. She's the Domme, playing the Domme and me her submissive.
Not real. A shoot. Fucks sake Plymouth focus.
Gag muffled screams and body locking up at the end and she keeps up the tempo, fingers plunging in out in even whilst I orgasm, prolonging the sensations, time stretching.
Barely aware of her rolling away, and soon I'll be back in my cage. Waiting again like always.
Content though, an owned thing, not Brooke or Plymouth. Deborah's bitch.
Flooded sensations, body overloaded.
Blinking at Flame as the hood comes off, reality and fantasy blurring, almost as though she had black hair. Ink.
Grinning down at me, face flushed and her own nipples- breasts hanging, dangling enough to make my throat ache in longing -erect. Pointing at me.
Sliding down beside me, hood tossed away and I blink again, trying to make sense of the mess inside.
Body still on fire. Ha. Belts and the sleeve, leather digging in pain across my limbs and aching muscles from my prolonged fight against the restraints.
And.
Flame kisses me. Hard, passionate. Yanking harshly at my nightie, forcing a breast to pop free which her hand instantly begins to squeeze, and I moan into her mouth, kissing back. Feeling her grin, pull back a bare inch.
"Such a slut." Tongue flicked across my lips, I shiver. "My bound slave."
"Yes." Briefly locked eyes and my acknowledgement breathed out like a whisper.
"Slave." The word from my own mouth, again like a whisper and Sonya. Flame or is it Sonya now.
Aware on some far away level, a huge detail my mind makes small, of little consequence despite it should be huge.
Aware the shoot is over. Done. My hood off, sighting my laptop closed which means no more footage. So, done, over. So free me already except.
Plunging and falling, I'd been- purposefully -standing on the edge and she'd pushed me.
Or.
Sonya, taking charge overstepping her remit, forcing this play and I should call her on it. Stop. Enough.
Except of course I won't. Can't?
Slave, I'd said. Confirmed, and in response Sonya grins, so wide. Closing for the kill.
Kisses like attacks, her breath coming hard. Aroused. Harsh gropes to my breasts, pinching and yanking at my nipples, grinning more each time I gasp, her wide eyes drinking me in, watching as I struggle closer, coming to her.
Wanting her.
Hand plunging down, finger and thumb expertly working me, pressure on my clit and I buck head thrown back legs trying to work, the belts making my jerking something less.
Orgasm racing up and over me, biting down on my own lips to hold in the scream, Sonya slapping my nipple as I climax, bolt of pain joining the mix.
"I'm going for a shower." Voice sounding far off, unimportant and me a puddle, spent and used. Barely feeling the gag straps, mouth opening automatically to half swallow the ball, taste of rubber teeth biting down.
Kiss on my cheek, I blink up at Sonya. Looming, leaning over me breasts so inviting and she's so fucking sexy.
I want her.
Am hers.
"You wait here, slave." Another kiss, a causal fondle of my breast. "Like a good girl."
"Mmmnnfffffggggg." I nod, small. Blink up at her my moans soft, low and properly submissive. "Lllgggdddrrrmmn."
"Perfect." A nod, a final roll of my now tender nipple between thumb and finger, eliciting a small struggle from me, little thrust of my chest at her.
Please, yes here take my breasts, take me I'm yours.
Watching Sonya climb off the bed, walk to the ensuite. Hearing the shower splutter to life.
Left here, waiting.
Maybe. Probably after the shower Deborah will put me back in the cage.
Shoot four.
I bought sleepwear too, in the shop yesterday, seeking out something to bind Sonya in for the third shoot.
Only fair she'd said, half insisted in that Domme way that she gets to do for me back.
A nightie, black. Thin straps and backless down to my butt, falling and curving in a gentle U shape. The cups hug my Canon F's, each one with a teasing gap, an opening up the middle poorly sealed by red lace up thread. And, teasing plus because this is a shoot, of course I've jiggled and manoeuvred my breasts so both nipples are in the gap, poking through between the thread.
The rest of the nightie is a fine black mesh, hugging my size six toned belly only flaring slightly below the waist, the hem barely covering my naked- no thong -crotch.
Sonya's idea, the fourth shoot, and the first today before we even venture from the room for a late breakfast, early lunch. Her plan is an almost copy of mine, with her own twists thrown in of course.
Utilising a bunch of the Domme things she bought along.
I'm- now -laid down, in bed on one side, laid on my side, covers a felt thing the duvet pulled up to my shoulders.
As though I'm asleep.
There's an armbinder: like a black sleeve that Sonya helped me wriggle into, both arms behind me the sleeve wider at the top, narrowing and with no hole at the bottom. It contains, captures both my arms, lacing up along the length to further restrict and force my arms together, plus there are twin belts running from shoulder down around the front, crossing above my chest and plunging under the opposite armpit, buckling up to hold the sleeve tightly in place so I can't just shrug it off.
With that on she'd helped me lay down, then came the belts.
Ankles, knees, upper thighs. A thick black leather band around each place, buckled tight, and two more: below the breasts and at my waist, pinning the armbinder, my arms, to me.
A final belt, looped between my ankles, securing them to to a ring at the armbinder sleeves base, placing me in a surprisingly- given it's belts and such, no rope -secure and immobile feeling hogtie.
"Damn but you make a sexy submissive Plymouth."
"Why thank you." Playful tone to cover, hopefully, my blush. The compliment landing all the harder given how aroused being bound makes me. I'm low level buzzing, already.
"So." Having smiled back, kneeling beside me in sight, Sonya shows me the final piece to be added, raised eyebrow like a question. Nodding back when I nod.
Okay.
"Great. So, I'll. Basically." A shrug. Thinking it seems. "Play, for awhile. Okay?"
"Sure." Small wriggle, not trying to tease merely unable to resist testing. Checking.
But I see Sonya's eyes tracking the move all the same, drawn to my bouncing chest and all round helplessness.
"Ready when you are."
"Right."
Sonya leans in, fixing the hood in place. Black latex, hugging my whole head no eye holes and only two tiny openings for the nostrils. I feel her lacing the back up, stopping often to fix my hair lest I catch and painfully snag.
Nice of her.
The hood comes with an in-built gag, a ball already half filling my mouth and on the outside there's a tube running off the front, attached to a pump, something you squeeze to inflate the gag.
Which I feel, muffled sounds of the pumping, feeling the gag grow larger, larger. Pushing my jaws wider, further apart.
Mouth becoming full, stretched and I begin to moan, to wriggle. But Sonya keeps pumping. And I, not panicked, too into it: blind now and gagged, secured and properly helpless I feel.
All over tingles, a buzz of adrenaline. So I'm not panicked or distressed, I'm having a great time.
Truly.
A handful more pumps, and stop.
Feeling the bed shift, laying still, waiting. Feel of the duvet lifted up to cover me to the shoulders after Sonya rolls me onto my side.
Mentally picturing her starting the camera's, clicking my laptop which I'd walked her through.
Shift of the mattress as she climbs back onto the bed, shift of the duvet as she slides under.
Brief kiss on my hooded cheek.
And, still.
Film no doubt rolling, and Sonya's plan, her theme here is basically a Domme waking up beside her bound submissive.
Creak, muffled everything muffled and rendered less by the hood. Movement I feel passed through the bed. I remain still, deciding to feign sleep, believing there's a cue coming, that Sonya. Flame. will show me when to 'wake up.'
"Well." Muffled, as I said, but I can just about make out the words. "Good morning slave."
Greeting accompanied by the feel of her, press of a body against mine, hand gripping my butt cheek long nailed finger pressing. Insistent, at my hole.
"Mmmnnggghh ffftttrrrrmmmm." Stretching against the belts and armbinder, pushing my chest towards Flame, my Domme, in welcome.
Yes. Good morning Mistress, I'm happy to be with you.
Finger rubbing up and down my crack, teasing and.
"Dddrrrrgggmmmm nnmmnn rrssssfffggglll." Another stretch, a wriggle what little struggling I can do. Not much.
Pussy wet, nipples stab like, erect.
And my mind falls away, as the questing finger at my butt becomes an eager hand squeezing and teasing my breast. Mentally I blink.
And there's a black haired girl laying here, who I can't see but can feel the pressure of her enhanced breasts pressed to mine, can picture the Kraken inked onto and climbing up her muscular frame. A strong girl, enough to overpower toned me.
And the hotel room changes too, becoming a bedroom. Goth like decor and beside the bed a cage.
My cage, into which I'll likely be returned once fun has been had, once I'm no longer needed. Wanted.
The name, a ghost whisper through my head, the wind.
Deborah.
No more pressure of her body on mine, instead a second hand joins the first. Deborah sliding a finger up and down my pussy slit.
Teasing.
"Rrrggggmmmnnnn." Thrusting my crotch forward. Yes. Take me, have me and use me. Please. "Ffggggppppp dddrrrtttmmnn-" Stopped abruptly by a harsh bite to my nipple, moan becoming a gasp. Mixed pleasure and pain.
Deborah, enjoying me and-
"That's right slave." Flame, it's Flame. And this is a shoot.
"Cum for me." Fingers inside me now, plunging in and out, forceful and fast, speeding me towards the climax. "Dirty slut." A slap to my nipple. "Slave."
"Ffgggmm. Mmmnmm. Dddtttgg. Ttrrggmmnnn." Each grunted moan coming breathlessly, the gag, only those small nostril holes, I'm panting.
Bucking body being used and she's riding me, laid beside but riding me, playing me.
Deborah, taking her fun, using me like a doll, a fucktoy her personal amusement. And I can't stop her, don't want to.
Bucking and struggling, fighting. Panting whilst my pussy is finger fucked and my nipples are bitten, pinched. Breasts groped. Butt slapped.
Whilst Deborah.
Flame.
Flame, the shoot she's filming this, me. She's the Domme, playing the Domme and me her submissive.
Not real. A shoot. Fucks sake Plymouth focus.
Gag muffled screams and body locking up at the end and she keeps up the tempo, fingers plunging in out in even whilst I orgasm, prolonging the sensations, time stretching.
Barely aware of her rolling away, and soon I'll be back in my cage. Waiting again like always.
Content though, an owned thing, not Brooke or Plymouth. Deborah's bitch.
Flooded sensations, body overloaded.
Blinking at Flame as the hood comes off, reality and fantasy blurring, almost as though she had black hair. Ink.
Grinning down at me, face flushed and her own nipples- breasts hanging, dangling enough to make my throat ache in longing -erect. Pointing at me.
Sliding down beside me, hood tossed away and I blink again, trying to make sense of the mess inside.
Body still on fire. Ha. Belts and the sleeve, leather digging in pain across my limbs and aching muscles from my prolonged fight against the restraints.
And.
Flame kisses me. Hard, passionate. Yanking harshly at my nightie, forcing a breast to pop free which her hand instantly begins to squeeze, and I moan into her mouth, kissing back. Feeling her grin, pull back a bare inch.
"Such a slut." Tongue flicked across my lips, I shiver. "My bound slave."
"Yes." Briefly locked eyes and my acknowledgement breathed out like a whisper.
"Slave." The word from my own mouth, again like a whisper and Sonya. Flame or is it Sonya now.
Aware on some far away level, a huge detail my mind makes small, of little consequence despite it should be huge.
Aware the shoot is over. Done. My hood off, sighting my laptop closed which means no more footage. So, done, over. So free me already except.
Plunging and falling, I'd been- purposefully -standing on the edge and she'd pushed me.
Or.
Sonya, taking charge overstepping her remit, forcing this play and I should call her on it. Stop. Enough.
Except of course I won't. Can't?
Slave, I'd said. Confirmed, and in response Sonya grins, so wide. Closing for the kill.
Kisses like attacks, her breath coming hard. Aroused. Harsh gropes to my breasts, pinching and yanking at my nipples, grinning more each time I gasp, her wide eyes drinking me in, watching as I struggle closer, coming to her.
Wanting her.
Hand plunging down, finger and thumb expertly working me, pressure on my clit and I buck head thrown back legs trying to work, the belts making my jerking something less.
Orgasm racing up and over me, biting down on my own lips to hold in the scream, Sonya slapping my nipple as I climax, bolt of pain joining the mix.
"I'm going for a shower." Voice sounding far off, unimportant and me a puddle, spent and used. Barely feeling the gag straps, mouth opening automatically to half swallow the ball, taste of rubber teeth biting down.
Kiss on my cheek, I blink up at Sonya. Looming, leaning over me breasts so inviting and she's so fucking sexy.
I want her.
Am hers.
"You wait here, slave." Another kiss, a causal fondle of my breast. "Like a good girl."
"Mmmnnfffffggggg." I nod, small. Blink up at her my moans soft, low and properly submissive. "Lllgggdddrrrmmn."
"Perfect." A nod, a final roll of my now tender nipple between thumb and finger, eliciting a small struggle from me, little thrust of my chest at her.
Please, yes here take my breasts, take me I'm yours.
Watching Sonya climb off the bed, walk to the ensuite. Hearing the shower splutter to life.
Left here, waiting.
Maybe. Probably after the shower Deborah will put me back in the cage.
-
Switchgirl
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 46
- Joined: 1 year ago
Ohoh - Brooke struggling with her past…
Another excellent couple of chapters!
Another excellent couple of chapters!
She's always struggling with something
But, thank you for the dropped comment. And soon enough I'll post more, we'll see how it pans out.
I have to say: I never get tired of another Plymouth Adventure! This is no exception. And I do like your very distinctive Style - very much so!
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 284
- Joined: 1 year ago
I was curious so I briefly looked it up - apparently 'prehaps' is a real word, in the sense of being a dialectical variant of 'perhaps'. I had thought it was a typo originally.RopeBunny wrote: ↑1 week agoIt should? Probably mix that up often, so thanks.BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑1 week agoShould be 'perhaps', but I did like this description of Brooke's mixed feelings.
So both right, I suppose. And makes sense why I was not aware of it.
-
I really liked the first chapter of this set, with the little vignettes/interludes of Brooke and Sonya's time together. Short - but sweet - moments.
Got a smile from me
Not that I think it was intended this way, rather as a minor bit of humor, but Brooke can be a little strange with food sometimes, although I do understand where it comes from.Suspecting as much after reading. Seems a little 'too good to be true' from Plymouth's perspective. I expect that once she is out of her submissive headspace, we will get a more accurate picture.
Mildly concerning how much she is mixing/blurring things together, but bondage is arguably at least as much (if not more!) mental as physical, and I think it is a wonderful description of her thoughts. A lucid dream of sorts.
Kinda intended multiple ways, to be honest. Both as humour: Sonya stealing the crisps but as a demonstration of their dynamic too: Sonya the Domme, taking what she wants.BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑1 week agoGot a smile from me
ExcellentBlissfulMisery wrote: ↑1 week ago
I really liked the first chapter of this set, with the little vignettes/interludes of Brooke and Sonya's time together. Short - but sweet - moments.
I enjoy writing those asides style chapters.006.
"I'm." Looking down at her hands, fists clenching and releasing. Sat on our hotel bed wrapped- though it's slipped, one breast escaped to freedom -in a towel, dripping water all over the duvet. "I'm really sorry. Brooke."
Flicked gaze to me, sat up too leaning back against the headboard, pillow in my lap legs crossed.
I offer up half a smile.
And Sonya goes back to staring at her hands.
I'd been lost. Deep under and reality blurred to the point that, water suddenly shutting off I'd been surprised when Sonya came blundering out of the ensuite.
Stopping dead in the doorway and staring open mouthed at tightly bound me in clear.
Shock. Disbelief.
Despite the fact she?
Isn't?
Put me?
Deborah?
Here?
"Shit." Curse like and followed by a shaky laugh. I blink, and Sonya.
Not Deborah?
Reaches back in, around the door to grab a fuffly white towel. Hastily wrapping her nakedness, hair and body dripping, leaving a river in her wake as she stumbles forwards on apparently weak legs.
Freeing me, all in a hurry yanking belts and pushing my body around, tossing things aside. Away. And the job done she'd retreated, away, semi collapsing to sit on the beds edge
Staring in silence at her hands. Silence that- because of my own inner turmoil, because I just wasn't sure what to say -lasted nearly ten minutes.
Until now.
"I just." And I'm mostly looking at her, wondering but unwilling to speak first, unsure of the specific issue.
Yes, she left me tied up but.
What's the problem with that?
Looking, so I see her flicked glance following the cessation of silence. After which a deep breath and.
"Carried away." A humourless laugh. "I get...."
Lapsing into quiet, a grimace.
"I get so lost. Sometimes. Plymouth." Shaking her head. "Brooke, I mean. So fucking lost because." Another of those laughs. "I'm into it, really fucking into it. And some shoots feel like a tightrope and...."
Drifting back to thoughtfulness. Mouth working but nothing making it through.
I open my mouth. To help and say...? Not a clue, but something.
But Sonya chooses that moment to wind back up, eyes on her hands fists to flat palms to fists.
"And I always." Looking at me, her gaze piercing. Wanting, willing me to believe. "Always. Manage to put the beast back in her box. Because it's a shoot. Right?"
I nod, small and Sonya nods back, brief flare of a smile.
"But not today, and very nearly not yesterday. Not with you."
And still talking, not seeing my- for the second time -open mouth.
"I've never." The gaze, met eyes and now I can see her want, lust.
For me.
Burning bright. Sonya, no longer Flame and her, beast, appears to straddle both sides.
Sound familiar to anyone?
"Never. Done a shoot like the ones we've done, never had a model act so fucking into it, so submissive. As you, Brooke. All the bondage paid work I've done, and it's never felt so damn natural as it has between us."
"And I like you. Fuck it." Eyes forever falling back to her hands find me, again. "I mean, look at you."
Drinking me in, and the maddest urge to flash her, to yank down the front of my nightie and shake the canon's rises up.
Which I tamp- not the time -down, blushing slightly at the attention.
"You are so fucking sexy. So."
Half reaching out to touch me, a phantom grope of the breasts I. Definitely? Did not just show off.
"And I don't even know whether you're single or...."
Pausing, and again I open my mouth.
But on she goes.
"Whatever. Right. I mean we live actual miles apart. And I'd probably only wind up ruining you."
An actual smirk, like flirting. A challenge and my heart flutters, my still very tender pussy throbbing.
"But." A huff and she deflates, the Domme retreating, the challenge withdrawn and now. "I'm just really. Really. Fucking sorry I overstepped. I shouldn't of left you like that, definitely shouldn't of taken advantage after the shoot finished. I just." Another huff. "I really want to get some shoots done. And I."
Laughing, face turned to the ceiling hand through her hair.
"Fuuuuucccckk." Eyes back to me. "I messed up. Brooke. But I'd like another chance, I am sorry. For real. And." Spreading her hands wide, asking for forgiveness. "Shout, if you need to. Say no and I'll get my shit. Leave and no hard feelings on my part. I know this is all on me. But."
"I was in the shower." Head shaking, gaze finding the trail of water leading from there to here. Fingering the bed, a tut. "You know," small laugh, "washing. And my mind drifted to you. How fucking sexy you'd looked."
Sonya's voice is low, soft. She looks over. Shrugs.
"Well you did. And anyway I always. Fucking always, manage to back down. Just a shoot and all that. So I wasn't even thinking it, I was just thinking about you, looking."
"Sexy." My own voice matching hers. And Sonya flinches when I speak. But nods.
"Right. And I thought. Daydreaming." Slight blush climbing her neck. "What if you still were tied. What would I do?"
What indeed? With a supreme effort I keep the smile, smirk off my face.
Not the time.
"And it hit me." Smacking her fist into her other, an open palm. The sound loud enough to make me blink. "Shit. You still were, and I'd really fucking screwed up and gone too far. Done that thing I've always fantasised about but never been stupid enough to do."
"Fantasised?"
"What?" Head jerking to look at me, but- cursing myself silently, for my own slip -I've already made my face deadpan.
Which earns me a frown. And then silence for a short while. More hand staring.
Looking back up, trying on a smile, which widens at the sight of my own. Small but there.
"Can we just carry on? Work the day, I'll take you out for dinner." Wagging her finger, playful despite the ongoing situation might not call for it. "A proper dinner mind no green shit on anyone's plate."
"Can we?" Looking at me now, hands dropped to her lap. "Please?"
Waiting.
And.
Well.
What can I say?
Because the biggest problem here, which due to the fact I haven't shared, the fact, Sonya doesn't know. Realise. The issue here is that this, everything that just happened post shoot.
It's at least half my fault.
Yes. Sonya overstepped first, she didn't free me, she barrelled in, coming back for another helping of slave Plymouth, slave Brooke. Shouldn't of done that.
But I responded. I let her, I welcomed her with open- but not, because of all the restraints -arms. I was happy, more then happy I was diving headfirst with no safety rope or net, into letting Sonya abuse and use me.
And yes visions of Deborah, and my confused state, and blah and blah.
But I welcomed it all, I wanted to be owned. By anyone.
Because deep down that's all I ever want.
And danger- stupid, foolish, idiot girl going to get burned but there it is -be damned.
And what I don't do is pick all the belts and crap off the floor, walk over and offer them up. Offer myself up.
What I don't do is shout. Scream and rant.
I stand up, see Sonya tense, inside and out as I step closer, coming around the bed.
Sitting down beside her and.
I don't lie, I just don't tell my half of the story.
"It's fine." Putting a hand on her upper leg, gentle squeeze and I look at her. Smile. "For real. Heat of the moment, all that Domme sloshing around inside."
Laughing too, joining Sonya.
"I shall take it as a compliment," semi cheeky wink, maybe an overstep, a come on please take me again but I can't help being a flirt, "and yes. Dinner. More shoots. Let's keep this moving."
"Really?" Hand tentative atop mine, a small pat her smile coming going. Unsure.
"Really." Squeezing her leg again, after which Sonya squeezes my hand. Nods blowing out a breath.
"Thanks Brooke. Fuck me, but, I really appreciate you understanding."
"Not a," half my fault anyway, but I still don't feel up for saying those truths about myself, "problem." I stand, point. "Go take your shower, I need one too before we move this along."
"Right." Standing, darting forward to kiss me, a small quick thing no tongue.
And off she goes. We both- separately -shower, change whilst batting ideas around.
Head out, Sonya's backpack and mine both full of clothing, bondage gear and shooting equipment.
Off to work.
"I'm." Looking down at her hands, fists clenching and releasing. Sat on our hotel bed wrapped- though it's slipped, one breast escaped to freedom -in a towel, dripping water all over the duvet. "I'm really sorry. Brooke."
Flicked gaze to me, sat up too leaning back against the headboard, pillow in my lap legs crossed.
I offer up half a smile.
And Sonya goes back to staring at her hands.
I'd been lost. Deep under and reality blurred to the point that, water suddenly shutting off I'd been surprised when Sonya came blundering out of the ensuite.
Stopping dead in the doorway and staring open mouthed at tightly bound me in clear.
Shock. Disbelief.
Despite the fact she?
Isn't?
Put me?
Deborah?
Here?
"Shit." Curse like and followed by a shaky laugh. I blink, and Sonya.
Not Deborah?
Reaches back in, around the door to grab a fuffly white towel. Hastily wrapping her nakedness, hair and body dripping, leaving a river in her wake as she stumbles forwards on apparently weak legs.
Freeing me, all in a hurry yanking belts and pushing my body around, tossing things aside. Away. And the job done she'd retreated, away, semi collapsing to sit on the beds edge
Staring in silence at her hands. Silence that- because of my own inner turmoil, because I just wasn't sure what to say -lasted nearly ten minutes.
Until now.
"I just." And I'm mostly looking at her, wondering but unwilling to speak first, unsure of the specific issue.
Yes, she left me tied up but.
What's the problem with that?
Looking, so I see her flicked glance following the cessation of silence. After which a deep breath and.
"Carried away." A humourless laugh. "I get...."
Lapsing into quiet, a grimace.
"I get so lost. Sometimes. Plymouth." Shaking her head. "Brooke, I mean. So fucking lost because." Another of those laughs. "I'm into it, really fucking into it. And some shoots feel like a tightrope and...."
Drifting back to thoughtfulness. Mouth working but nothing making it through.
I open my mouth. To help and say...? Not a clue, but something.
But Sonya chooses that moment to wind back up, eyes on her hands fists to flat palms to fists.
"And I always." Looking at me, her gaze piercing. Wanting, willing me to believe. "Always. Manage to put the beast back in her box. Because it's a shoot. Right?"
I nod, small and Sonya nods back, brief flare of a smile.
"But not today, and very nearly not yesterday. Not with you."
And still talking, not seeing my- for the second time -open mouth.
"I've never." The gaze, met eyes and now I can see her want, lust.
For me.
Burning bright. Sonya, no longer Flame and her, beast, appears to straddle both sides.
Sound familiar to anyone?
"Never. Done a shoot like the ones we've done, never had a model act so fucking into it, so submissive. As you, Brooke. All the bondage paid work I've done, and it's never felt so damn natural as it has between us."
"And I like you. Fuck it." Eyes forever falling back to her hands find me, again. "I mean, look at you."
Drinking me in, and the maddest urge to flash her, to yank down the front of my nightie and shake the canon's rises up.
Which I tamp- not the time -down, blushing slightly at the attention.
"You are so fucking sexy. So."
Half reaching out to touch me, a phantom grope of the breasts I. Definitely? Did not just show off.
"And I don't even know whether you're single or...."
Pausing, and again I open my mouth.
But on she goes.
"Whatever. Right. I mean we live actual miles apart. And I'd probably only wind up ruining you."
An actual smirk, like flirting. A challenge and my heart flutters, my still very tender pussy throbbing.
"But." A huff and she deflates, the Domme retreating, the challenge withdrawn and now. "I'm just really. Really. Fucking sorry I overstepped. I shouldn't of left you like that, definitely shouldn't of taken advantage after the shoot finished. I just." Another huff. "I really want to get some shoots done. And I."
Laughing, face turned to the ceiling hand through her hair.
"Fuuuuucccckk." Eyes back to me. "I messed up. Brooke. But I'd like another chance, I am sorry. For real. And." Spreading her hands wide, asking for forgiveness. "Shout, if you need to. Say no and I'll get my shit. Leave and no hard feelings on my part. I know this is all on me. But."
"I was in the shower." Head shaking, gaze finding the trail of water leading from there to here. Fingering the bed, a tut. "You know," small laugh, "washing. And my mind drifted to you. How fucking sexy you'd looked."
Sonya's voice is low, soft. She looks over. Shrugs.
"Well you did. And anyway I always. Fucking always, manage to back down. Just a shoot and all that. So I wasn't even thinking it, I was just thinking about you, looking."
"Sexy." My own voice matching hers. And Sonya flinches when I speak. But nods.
"Right. And I thought. Daydreaming." Slight blush climbing her neck. "What if you still were tied. What would I do?"
What indeed? With a supreme effort I keep the smile, smirk off my face.
Not the time.
"And it hit me." Smacking her fist into her other, an open palm. The sound loud enough to make me blink. "Shit. You still were, and I'd really fucking screwed up and gone too far. Done that thing I've always fantasised about but never been stupid enough to do."
"Fantasised?"
"What?" Head jerking to look at me, but- cursing myself silently, for my own slip -I've already made my face deadpan.
Which earns me a frown. And then silence for a short while. More hand staring.
Looking back up, trying on a smile, which widens at the sight of my own. Small but there.
"Can we just carry on? Work the day, I'll take you out for dinner." Wagging her finger, playful despite the ongoing situation might not call for it. "A proper dinner mind no green shit on anyone's plate."
"Can we?" Looking at me now, hands dropped to her lap. "Please?"
Waiting.
And.
Well.
What can I say?
Because the biggest problem here, which due to the fact I haven't shared, the fact, Sonya doesn't know. Realise. The issue here is that this, everything that just happened post shoot.
It's at least half my fault.
Yes. Sonya overstepped first, she didn't free me, she barrelled in, coming back for another helping of slave Plymouth, slave Brooke. Shouldn't of done that.
But I responded. I let her, I welcomed her with open- but not, because of all the restraints -arms. I was happy, more then happy I was diving headfirst with no safety rope or net, into letting Sonya abuse and use me.
And yes visions of Deborah, and my confused state, and blah and blah.
But I welcomed it all, I wanted to be owned. By anyone.
Because deep down that's all I ever want.
And danger- stupid, foolish, idiot girl going to get burned but there it is -be damned.
And what I don't do is pick all the belts and crap off the floor, walk over and offer them up. Offer myself up.
What I don't do is shout. Scream and rant.
I stand up, see Sonya tense, inside and out as I step closer, coming around the bed.
Sitting down beside her and.
I don't lie, I just don't tell my half of the story.
"It's fine." Putting a hand on her upper leg, gentle squeeze and I look at her. Smile. "For real. Heat of the moment, all that Domme sloshing around inside."
Laughing too, joining Sonya.
"I shall take it as a compliment," semi cheeky wink, maybe an overstep, a come on please take me again but I can't help being a flirt, "and yes. Dinner. More shoots. Let's keep this moving."
"Really?" Hand tentative atop mine, a small pat her smile coming going. Unsure.
"Really." Squeezing her leg again, after which Sonya squeezes my hand. Nods blowing out a breath.
"Thanks Brooke. Fuck me, but, I really appreciate you understanding."
"Not a," half my fault anyway, but I still don't feel up for saying those truths about myself, "problem." I stand, point. "Go take your shower, I need one too before we move this along."
"Right." Standing, darting forward to kiss me, a small quick thing no tongue.
And off she goes. We both- separately -shower, change whilst batting ideas around.
Head out, Sonya's backpack and mine both full of clothing, bondage gear and shooting equipment.
Off to work.
Flame binds Plymouth.
Shoot five.
"Used to play here," walking beside me over cracked concrete, grass and various weeds growing through, slowly taking over, "when I was a teenager."
"You're still a teenager." Tutting, nudging Sonya though not too hard.
"I meant a schoolgirl teenager." Smiling, rolling with the push and still beside me. "Come three this place will be full of kids."
But for now, the whole spooky looking thing is ours.
An old factory complex, long abandoned: brick shells, full of holes and leaking ceilings, half the doors gone, half of those remaining hanging crazily open. Graffiti and litter everywhere. Weeds. Three burned out cars. A sold sign on the- the only one still intact and sealed, made useless by the gaping hole in the fence six feet to the left -gate, faded with age and Sonya commenting it's been there since she was ten.
If not longer.
The site unused. Abandoned, a teenagers playground.
But not during school hours, for now it's all ours and there must be over a dozen bondage shoot possibilities.
But Sonya has chosen this one.
A long bus ride or a shorter but more expensive hop on the train. I paid for the train, because we're not long on available time. Back close to where Sonya grew up, where she still lives because her shoot ideas, two of them, are locally based things we can do without needing the hotel room.
Starting here.
"What do you think?" Stood in the unneeded- because of the sun, a beautiful day -shelter of a building, backpacks down and I've stripped off my yellow 'Triumph' tee, plus the pale blue push up lace bra underneath leaving only faded black jeans and my steel toed boots.
"I think." Hunkered down with her bag, sorting rope but stopping to look. "Could we do naked, just the boots maybe?" Smile and a nod. "That'd look cool, right? Plus then I could bind your whole upper body, crotch rope too."
"That's." Nodding, actually a really good plan. "Actually really fucking good. Sonya."
"Thanks." Grinning.
So I strip off the rest, jeans and a black thong, keeping on the small white ankle socks, stepping back into and lacing up the boots.
"Right." Thumbs up. "I'm all yours."
Brief flinch from Sonya, Flame. Too soon? But then she smiles back, nods.
Gets to work.
It's called a reverse prayer tie: arms bent at the elbow, forearms together travelling up my back and hands pressed together, palm to palm close to the top of my spine. The whole thing very tight, very secure, very strict.
The whole thing taking Flame awhile to thread and knot.
Frequent passes around front, rope above and below my F cups, squeezing and pressing them. A smile for me whenever she passes, perhaps she's moving on from this morning?
Or maybe she just really enjoys binding me?
I smile back each time. Yes I've moved on, and yes, I really enjoy being bound.
"Too tight?"
"Nah." Wriggle wriggle, shaking and fighting, briefly doing so properly. Testing. And nothing happens I remain roped up. "Never."
"That right?" Smiling back as I smile, nod. "Well then maybe I'll...."
She'd been stepping forward, to....?
Indeed.
"Honestly. Plymouth." Head shaking, staying still. "You are the worst model to work with. Ever."
"I tend to think of myself more as the most fun." Nodding. "Like a crazy whirlwind."
"Constantly flirting whirlwind more like."
"Yeah. Well."
Regarding each other, silence for a moment. Me bound, as good as naked and Flame holding the ropes, still fully clothed.
In control, as it were.
In the end she nods, nothing said but I think she felt it too? A moment there, something shared.
Kneeling to tie up my crotch. Flame the professional, at least now. Here. Despite being close enough to lick me, no doubt breathing in the scent my arousal is putting out. Despite having to touch me, part my pussy slit, work the rope in and position it just so.
Even with all that, the contact and there's still something in her eyes that wants me. Flame keeps it tamped down.
Binding me, standing back up and stepping away.
Fetching the gag.
"Happy?"
"With this," wriggling, "or with the plan?"
"Both." Tutting at me.
"Are you sufficiently comfortable but not, but okay within the ropes, Plymouth?"
"Sure."
"And." Tutting again at my grin. "Are you happy with the plan?"
"Yes."
Flame gags me, a full head harness, red ballgag and black straps, taking the time to thread and position my hair so it doesn't look too crazy.
Stepping back, a thumbs up and I nod.
Flame fetches out the camera.
And off we go.
I walk, slowly, carefully like a person exploring. Stopping to look down at a particularly eager patch of weed. Stopping again to peer left and right, to read the graffiti.
For almost a half hour, possibly longer I walk around. Flame circling me, following me or sometimes walking slowly backwards in front, filming me as I walk towards her. Sometimes, off camera she'll point.
Go that way.
Look over here.
Holding up her hand. Stop. And as I pause, taking stock perhaps wriggling slightly. Testing, a small fight. A low moan. Time Flame spends up close, a circuit or three zoomed in, showing off my bound curves, the wetness developing between my legs, pussy throbbing near constantly each step causing the rope to rub against my clit, the arousal I can't take care of, can't prevent.
Teasing. Frustrating.
My breasts, bobbing as I walk, nipples erect.
Drool from my mouth, cleavage damp.
Luckily we see nobody else, certainly no teenagers, and no dog walkers, nobody looking for a quiet place to smoke some weed, or shoot up on stronger stuff.
The whole thing is a buzz for me, and the time flies by. Enjoying myself, fully exposed and bound, wandering alone it's like some kind of fantasy made real.
Abandoned here. Maybe I overstepped, have been thrown out in this state by my Domme. Punishment, uncaring what happens to the slave she no longer wants. Or. Maybe I escaped? My cage, dungeon, but not my bindings, I'm free but not free, and will my Domme find me first, or will someone else?
And what then.
Thoughts that keep me buzzing, happy and riding a high of arousal destined to end in frustration.
Because this isn't a shoot where Flame gets to play.
Flame, playing it safe, hands off and showing me she can.
Whether I want her too or not.
"Okay. Plymouth." Thumbs up and beckoning me back towards, I can see our backpacks leaning beside a wall. Luckily- my clothes inside for one -still there. "We're done."
"Ddfffgggmmnnn." I nod, following.
Staying still whilst I'm freed, Sonya waiting, sorting the ropes and camera back away as I dress.
And we move on, the next spot, next shoot.
A working day.
Shoot five.
"Used to play here," walking beside me over cracked concrete, grass and various weeds growing through, slowly taking over, "when I was a teenager."
"You're still a teenager." Tutting, nudging Sonya though not too hard.
"I meant a schoolgirl teenager." Smiling, rolling with the push and still beside me. "Come three this place will be full of kids."
But for now, the whole spooky looking thing is ours.
An old factory complex, long abandoned: brick shells, full of holes and leaking ceilings, half the doors gone, half of those remaining hanging crazily open. Graffiti and litter everywhere. Weeds. Three burned out cars. A sold sign on the- the only one still intact and sealed, made useless by the gaping hole in the fence six feet to the left -gate, faded with age and Sonya commenting it's been there since she was ten.
If not longer.
The site unused. Abandoned, a teenagers playground.
But not during school hours, for now it's all ours and there must be over a dozen bondage shoot possibilities.
But Sonya has chosen this one.
A long bus ride or a shorter but more expensive hop on the train. I paid for the train, because we're not long on available time. Back close to where Sonya grew up, where she still lives because her shoot ideas, two of them, are locally based things we can do without needing the hotel room.
Starting here.
"What do you think?" Stood in the unneeded- because of the sun, a beautiful day -shelter of a building, backpacks down and I've stripped off my yellow 'Triumph' tee, plus the pale blue push up lace bra underneath leaving only faded black jeans and my steel toed boots.
"I think." Hunkered down with her bag, sorting rope but stopping to look. "Could we do naked, just the boots maybe?" Smile and a nod. "That'd look cool, right? Plus then I could bind your whole upper body, crotch rope too."
"That's." Nodding, actually a really good plan. "Actually really fucking good. Sonya."
"Thanks." Grinning.
So I strip off the rest, jeans and a black thong, keeping on the small white ankle socks, stepping back into and lacing up the boots.
"Right." Thumbs up. "I'm all yours."
Brief flinch from Sonya, Flame. Too soon? But then she smiles back, nods.
Gets to work.
It's called a reverse prayer tie: arms bent at the elbow, forearms together travelling up my back and hands pressed together, palm to palm close to the top of my spine. The whole thing very tight, very secure, very strict.
The whole thing taking Flame awhile to thread and knot.
Frequent passes around front, rope above and below my F cups, squeezing and pressing them. A smile for me whenever she passes, perhaps she's moving on from this morning?
Or maybe she just really enjoys binding me?
I smile back each time. Yes I've moved on, and yes, I really enjoy being bound.
"Too tight?"
"Nah." Wriggle wriggle, shaking and fighting, briefly doing so properly. Testing. And nothing happens I remain roped up. "Never."
"That right?" Smiling back as I smile, nod. "Well then maybe I'll...."
She'd been stepping forward, to....?
Indeed.
"Honestly. Plymouth." Head shaking, staying still. "You are the worst model to work with. Ever."
"I tend to think of myself more as the most fun." Nodding. "Like a crazy whirlwind."
"Constantly flirting whirlwind more like."
"Yeah. Well."
Regarding each other, silence for a moment. Me bound, as good as naked and Flame holding the ropes, still fully clothed.
In control, as it were.
In the end she nods, nothing said but I think she felt it too? A moment there, something shared.
Kneeling to tie up my crotch. Flame the professional, at least now. Here. Despite being close enough to lick me, no doubt breathing in the scent my arousal is putting out. Despite having to touch me, part my pussy slit, work the rope in and position it just so.
Even with all that, the contact and there's still something in her eyes that wants me. Flame keeps it tamped down.
Binding me, standing back up and stepping away.
Fetching the gag.
"Happy?"
"With this," wriggling, "or with the plan?"
"Both." Tutting at me.
"Are you sufficiently comfortable but not, but okay within the ropes, Plymouth?"
"Sure."
"And." Tutting again at my grin. "Are you happy with the plan?"
"Yes."
Flame gags me, a full head harness, red ballgag and black straps, taking the time to thread and position my hair so it doesn't look too crazy.
Stepping back, a thumbs up and I nod.
Flame fetches out the camera.
And off we go.
I walk, slowly, carefully like a person exploring. Stopping to look down at a particularly eager patch of weed. Stopping again to peer left and right, to read the graffiti.
For almost a half hour, possibly longer I walk around. Flame circling me, following me or sometimes walking slowly backwards in front, filming me as I walk towards her. Sometimes, off camera she'll point.
Go that way.
Look over here.
Holding up her hand. Stop. And as I pause, taking stock perhaps wriggling slightly. Testing, a small fight. A low moan. Time Flame spends up close, a circuit or three zoomed in, showing off my bound curves, the wetness developing between my legs, pussy throbbing near constantly each step causing the rope to rub against my clit, the arousal I can't take care of, can't prevent.
Teasing. Frustrating.
My breasts, bobbing as I walk, nipples erect.
Drool from my mouth, cleavage damp.
Luckily we see nobody else, certainly no teenagers, and no dog walkers, nobody looking for a quiet place to smoke some weed, or shoot up on stronger stuff.
The whole thing is a buzz for me, and the time flies by. Enjoying myself, fully exposed and bound, wandering alone it's like some kind of fantasy made real.
Abandoned here. Maybe I overstepped, have been thrown out in this state by my Domme. Punishment, uncaring what happens to the slave she no longer wants. Or. Maybe I escaped? My cage, dungeon, but not my bindings, I'm free but not free, and will my Domme find me first, or will someone else?
And what then.
Thoughts that keep me buzzing, happy and riding a high of arousal destined to end in frustration.
Because this isn't a shoot where Flame gets to play.
Flame, playing it safe, hands off and showing me she can.
Whether I want her too or not.
"Okay. Plymouth." Thumbs up and beckoning me back towards, I can see our backpacks leaning beside a wall. Luckily- my clothes inside for one -still there. "We're done."
"Ddfffgggmmnnn." I nod, following.
Staying still whilst I'm freed, Sonya waiting, sorting the ropes and camera back away as I dress.
And we move on, the next spot, next shoot.
A working day.