This is a continuation of 'The Rope Bunny' which I wrote over in the everyone section.
I'll be doing my best to explain relevant points and details as we go, without bogging the tale down, however it goes without saying that readers of that first installment will be at an advantage.
Enjoy.
The Rope Bunny V2 (M+F+/F+)
The Rope Bunny V2 (M+F+/F+)
Last edited by RopeBunny 8 months ago, edited 11 times in total.
Prologue.
Catching up.
"Sure you won't come back," at the airport gate, "with me," hopeful half smile on her face, "today?"
"Not yet Chelle. I'm...." Shrugging, too many words and no time, and besides which she knows it all already, this isn't the first time we've danced this particular back and forth.
But she's asking anyway.
Because that's what friends do.
It's been just over three years since I left, packing my passport and bankcard, a handful of clothes, three books of magic.
No. Seriously.
Dumping what I considered my worldy possessions- managing to forget my toothbrush -into a black Roxy Girl backpack, one month after finishing my school exams, not long sixteen, I took a train to the airport and jumped on whichever of the two dozen imminent departures looked most interesting.
I haven't been home since.
Having a vast pile of cash. Cash, really, that capital C is important. Having three million and change helps. It was five, a gift from, let's say a fan- because worshipper, though prehaps more accurate sounds weird when you consider I was, at the time, at least in part a fifteen year old schoolgirl.
The money was payment for services rendered, Bunny services.
As with a lot of my Bunny double life, it all sounds and is confusing. I'll explain as we go.
Five, but I gave Mum a million. She might not talk to me these days, I guess everyone has their limits and apparently my getting shot whilst dressed in a bunny suit I can't.
No. Seriously.
Take off. That was her limit, my refusal of help, where help equals counselling and a hospital, potentially, eventually whether I agreed or not, a padded room and no sharp objects allowed. Mum couldn't understand that for all I'd been shot on the Rope Bunny's watch, helping her, that I was unwilling to the point of much shouting to even discuss the possibility of medically aided separation.
As though such a thing were possible.
As though we were dating, that I could walk into a room, emerge as two separate people.
As for whatever else I've spent: I went a little, a lot, crazy after turning eighteen, plus living out of a backpack isn't cheap, or easy at times. But it has- mostly -been a whirlwind of fun. Even some of the not easy parts.
And what of my friends? I used to have six, one of whom- pretty busty Jody -I even dated. Unfortunately the thing that got me shot, bad enough in Mum's eyes, vanished me in front of her too.
And, of course, she rang around all my friends parents. Scared and worried, confused. Seeking answers. So the adults collectively leaned on the kids, applying pressure.
The truth, in all its six slightly different opinions glory, was bound- ha, except it isn't funny -to come out.
No blame from me. How many kids could hold out against parental threats for the sake of a friend who isn't quite herself anymore?
In the aftermath they closed ranks, quietly yet effectively shutting me out.
And when Michelle protested the fact, trying to bridge the gap, to make them see I was still me, they cast her out too.
Jody, pretty rope loving Jody, my girlfriend, was the hardest to walk away from. Her parents might of known we were closer then mere friends, but the fact I'd been shot.
How crazily fast that became common knowledge.
They forbade her from seeing me. Ever.
And. Well. If you care about someone enough, wouldn't you fight, and defy, risk it all for what might grow into and become love?
Her casual tearfree dismissal, the ease with which she managed to step back, step away, from what we'd had is, I think, what finally broke me. I began making plans to leave.
And now only Michelle, who I was always closest too anyway, the girl who always waited for me outside the school gates whenever the Rope Bunny forced me to sleep in.
Now only Chelle makes time for me.
And what of the Bunny? I suppose the star attraction warrants some form of explanation, a brief history.
Okay.
Ready?
It started when I was thirteen. I didn't know what it was, but a handful of times a month I'd wake up late, or zone out during the day. Losing time.
Eventually, skipping ahead, I discovered my body didn't belong to just me anymore.
The Rope Bunny.
Something old. A trickster spirit that, when she comes out to play, takes a rabbit slash human like form, the human part looking exactly like me.
Because it's my body. Which she's trapped inside.
Trapped by magic.
No. Seriously.
Why would I be making any of this shit up?
Somehow but most likely by foul means, some master spellcaster working to a plan we've yet to fathom. Some evil fuck. Somehow the Rope Bunny was forced inside me, trapped there unable to simply drift away as she's always done.
So.
Discovery- of each other, because the Bunny didn't even know I was real either -made. We talked, and instead of going to war we agreed to share, me. I don't have the least problem with it, at heart though mischievous as all hell the Bunny is a good person.
But others tend to find the way we sometimes shuttle back and forth mid conversation, the Bunny's fur rippling out to cover and replace my clothing or vice versa. Other people tend to get a headache, or at the very least confused.
For almost four years now we've shared. We've grown comfortable together, and most of the time I couldn't tell you where she ends and I begin.
And nor could she.
"Wish I could stay longer," stepping back from another last hug, "but." A shrug, a cheeky grin. "Those of us with jobs...."
"Hey." Smiling back. "I work."
"Cash in hand stuff whenever you feel." Bringing her fingers up to do air quotes. "'In the mood' doesn't count."
We both laugh.
"Hey." Patting my left shoulder, gently despite the fact it's long healed. Only the scars at shoulder and bicep remain. "Take care of my friend."
"I will."
Chelle rolls her eyes. She'd been talking to the Bunny of course, and currently I'm me. Kayley me. And sometimes I do say she and we, but sometimes it's all I, always switching without thinking, much like the physical change between us.
I stay by the gate, waving her off and missing her already.
But she needs to go home, and I don't want to go home.
Not yet.
Possibly never.
Catching up.
"Sure you won't come back," at the airport gate, "with me," hopeful half smile on her face, "today?"
"Not yet Chelle. I'm...." Shrugging, too many words and no time, and besides which she knows it all already, this isn't the first time we've danced this particular back and forth.
But she's asking anyway.
Because that's what friends do.
It's been just over three years since I left, packing my passport and bankcard, a handful of clothes, three books of magic.
No. Seriously.
Dumping what I considered my worldy possessions- managing to forget my toothbrush -into a black Roxy Girl backpack, one month after finishing my school exams, not long sixteen, I took a train to the airport and jumped on whichever of the two dozen imminent departures looked most interesting.
I haven't been home since.
Having a vast pile of cash. Cash, really, that capital C is important. Having three million and change helps. It was five, a gift from, let's say a fan- because worshipper, though prehaps more accurate sounds weird when you consider I was, at the time, at least in part a fifteen year old schoolgirl.
The money was payment for services rendered, Bunny services.
As with a lot of my Bunny double life, it all sounds and is confusing. I'll explain as we go.
Five, but I gave Mum a million. She might not talk to me these days, I guess everyone has their limits and apparently my getting shot whilst dressed in a bunny suit I can't.
No. Seriously.
Take off. That was her limit, my refusal of help, where help equals counselling and a hospital, potentially, eventually whether I agreed or not, a padded room and no sharp objects allowed. Mum couldn't understand that for all I'd been shot on the Rope Bunny's watch, helping her, that I was unwilling to the point of much shouting to even discuss the possibility of medically aided separation.
As though such a thing were possible.
As though we were dating, that I could walk into a room, emerge as two separate people.
As for whatever else I've spent: I went a little, a lot, crazy after turning eighteen, plus living out of a backpack isn't cheap, or easy at times. But it has- mostly -been a whirlwind of fun. Even some of the not easy parts.
And what of my friends? I used to have six, one of whom- pretty busty Jody -I even dated. Unfortunately the thing that got me shot, bad enough in Mum's eyes, vanished me in front of her too.
And, of course, she rang around all my friends parents. Scared and worried, confused. Seeking answers. So the adults collectively leaned on the kids, applying pressure.
The truth, in all its six slightly different opinions glory, was bound- ha, except it isn't funny -to come out.
No blame from me. How many kids could hold out against parental threats for the sake of a friend who isn't quite herself anymore?
In the aftermath they closed ranks, quietly yet effectively shutting me out.
And when Michelle protested the fact, trying to bridge the gap, to make them see I was still me, they cast her out too.
Jody, pretty rope loving Jody, my girlfriend, was the hardest to walk away from. Her parents might of known we were closer then mere friends, but the fact I'd been shot.
How crazily fast that became common knowledge.
They forbade her from seeing me. Ever.
And. Well. If you care about someone enough, wouldn't you fight, and defy, risk it all for what might grow into and become love?
Her casual tearfree dismissal, the ease with which she managed to step back, step away, from what we'd had is, I think, what finally broke me. I began making plans to leave.
And now only Michelle, who I was always closest too anyway, the girl who always waited for me outside the school gates whenever the Rope Bunny forced me to sleep in.
Now only Chelle makes time for me.
And what of the Bunny? I suppose the star attraction warrants some form of explanation, a brief history.
Okay.
Ready?
It started when I was thirteen. I didn't know what it was, but a handful of times a month I'd wake up late, or zone out during the day. Losing time.
Eventually, skipping ahead, I discovered my body didn't belong to just me anymore.
The Rope Bunny.
Something old. A trickster spirit that, when she comes out to play, takes a rabbit slash human like form, the human part looking exactly like me.
Because it's my body. Which she's trapped inside.
Trapped by magic.
No. Seriously.
Why would I be making any of this shit up?
Somehow but most likely by foul means, some master spellcaster working to a plan we've yet to fathom. Some evil fuck. Somehow the Rope Bunny was forced inside me, trapped there unable to simply drift away as she's always done.
So.
Discovery- of each other, because the Bunny didn't even know I was real either -made. We talked, and instead of going to war we agreed to share, me. I don't have the least problem with it, at heart though mischievous as all hell the Bunny is a good person.
But others tend to find the way we sometimes shuttle back and forth mid conversation, the Bunny's fur rippling out to cover and replace my clothing or vice versa. Other people tend to get a headache, or at the very least confused.
For almost four years now we've shared. We've grown comfortable together, and most of the time I couldn't tell you where she ends and I begin.
And nor could she.
"Wish I could stay longer," stepping back from another last hug, "but." A shrug, a cheeky grin. "Those of us with jobs...."
"Hey." Smiling back. "I work."
"Cash in hand stuff whenever you feel." Bringing her fingers up to do air quotes. "'In the mood' doesn't count."
We both laugh.
"Hey." Patting my left shoulder, gently despite the fact it's long healed. Only the scars at shoulder and bicep remain. "Take care of my friend."
"I will."
Chelle rolls her eyes. She'd been talking to the Bunny of course, and currently I'm me. Kayley me. And sometimes I do say she and we, but sometimes it's all I, always switching without thinking, much like the physical change between us.
I stay by the gate, waving her off and missing her already.
But she needs to go home, and I don't want to go home.
Not yet.
Possibly never.
Big Al's kinky fun times podcast.
Episode 37.
Al:
"Welcome. Welcome, all you kinky cats and rope. Ha. Sorry, you'll see. Welcome cats and bunny's, I'm Big Al, your host and guide as we explore and talk to people with tales of kink to share. As we delve, and dive, seeking out those fun times.
Our guest today is Timothy. Can I call you Tim?"
Tim:
"Sure. Hey, Al, thanks for having me on man."
Al:
"Thanks for joining us Tim.
So.
Right off the bat. No bullshit, you've got a Rope Bunny tale to share am I right?"
Tim:
"I sure do Al."
Al:
"And just to clarify, for the benefit of those invisible listeners from the standards office, the regulators keeping us all safe from inappropriate content.
This won't get me taken off the air?"
Tim:
"She's grown up, Al. Looking older, you know, in the face. The Rope Bunny isn't a kid anymore."
Al:
"And what's more, she's definitely real?"
Tim:
"Definitely."
Al:
"Well, alright my man.
Tim, the floor is yours. Go ahead and tell us your kinky tale."
Tim:
"So. Right. I was at this club, Deep C, but the letter not the ocean. Anyway, one weekend a month they hold a kink night on the Saturday.
They go the full works: cages which, well, they don't actually lock. For safety I guess, but you can throw the bolt across and pretend.
There's a couple of those wooden X crosses though, they're real. Man I've seen some pretty girls lashed to them since I started going. The crosses are either side of the bar, I guess so they can be monitored.
There's other kinky stuff goes down too. Some kind of stage show, normally some rigger showing off, sometimes they pull out volunteers."
Al:
"So you saw the Bunny at this event?"
Tim:
"Yeah. I'd just got a drink, making my way back to a couple of friends and she just walked right passed me man, full bunny suit the colour of storm clouds, those tall ears.
I dropped my drink."
Al:
"Yeah?"
Tim:
"No shit. Sorry, can I say shit?"
Al:
"You can say fuck too, this isn't exactly a child friendly 'cast."
Tim:
"Ha. Right.
I chased after her, caught her shoulder. And she flinched, stopped, then turned around.
That grin, man. You heard she grins Al?"
Al:
"Heard about it, never seen it."
Tim:
"Well.
It's. Um. A little bit scary, like you can see the crazy peeking through.
That rack makes up for it though, damn she's got a pair of tits.
Anyway.
I say 'holy crap you're the Rope Bunny' or something. And she cocks her head, looks me up and down like she's thinking.
Then. No shit. She just goes 'hi, want to go someplace and fuck?'"
Al:
"Really?
Just like that?"
Tim:
"Sounds like bullshit, I know, but she really did just come out with it.
Of course old pro that I am I spluttered and blushed, mouth gaping.
She laughed, but, nervous not mean. Goes 'well?'
Guess I shrugged, said something about my place being a half hour away on the tube.
She throws my shrug back at me. Nods.
And like that we're out the club, walking to the station
Me, and the actual no shit Rope Bunny."
Al:
"So, did you?"
Tim:
"Did we fuck?
Yeah."
And. Well. A gentleman never tells, plus I'm guessing you don't want me to go all X rated?"
Al:
"I'm not in a hurry to get pulled no."
Tim:
"Sure. What I will say though is.
She was. She seemed, nervous, I mean fuck me so was I.
The actual real Rope Bunny, in my house, in my fucking- ha -bed man. And I hadn't even run the hoover all week.
And. It was good, you know. Those tits man, bouncing, huge like balloons they were. Looked fake but I'm okay with that, you know.
And she tied herself up."
Al:
"Yeah?
Well. Tim my man, that part is something. Um. Kink worthy, that my listeners will want to hear about.
If you don't mind?"
Tim:
"No. I mean, yes. Course.
I'd wanted to ask, because ropes, bondage, that's basically her whole thing right?
And I'm into that too. Why else go to Deep C that night? Only thing more sexy then a naked girl in your bed is a tied up naked girl am I right?"
Al:
"Well. You aren't wrong."
Tim:
"Ha.
So I'd been working up to it, but running out of time. Too fucking nervous to even speak to her on the tube, and she seemed distracted, heard her muttering, all quiet like talking to yourself, a bunch of times I'd swear.
And then, through my front door and she's beelining for my bedroom.
She gets straight up on my bed, and-"
Al:
"Careful there man, editing this stuff is a bitch as it is."
Tim:
"Sure.
She just blurts it out, like in the club she just goes 'I'm going to tie myself up' and then looks at me like I'm supposed to know what to say to that.
So I goes 'sure' or 'great' or most likely I just grinned at her like some idiot moron. Which I guess worked because she grinned back, said 'you're cute you know' or something, made me blush anyway.
And then, like clicking my fingers. That easy, she tied herself up whilst I stood there gaping."
Al:
"Come on then my man, details on this."
Tim:
"My bed is just a box spring, nothing fancy.
But it's got legs underneath at the corners.
She lays down, on her back and this black rope kinda. Grows. Out of the air joining her limbs to the legs on my bed. Wrists, ankles, she winds up spread out like the girls, and sometimes dudes although I don't pay them any attention. You know."
Al:
"Course not. Tim."
Tim:
"So she's, suddenly, like all trussed into this loose X shape. And then she goes 'want to see a trick' giving me a grin. And I probably said 'wasn't that already one' and she just winks.
And then like. Ha. Magic, those ropes all started shortening, like winding in the slack the rope kinda eating itself. Her limbs getting pulled out straighter like she's on some medieval rack.
They stretched her so tight, those magic ropes. She did this cute little moan as her limbs locked out, all four straight as arrows.
I remember thinking any more and she'll pull an arm out the socket or something.
She laughed, seeing me staring. 'Sorry' she goes 'guess someone got carried away for a moment.' Only she said someone the way you'd say it to mean another person.
But, who else was there? Wasn't me that did it.
Not complaining of course, she looked fucking hot.
She's looking at me, and I'm stating right back at those tits, and that grin gets wider, and she shakes like a tease and laughs as my jaw hits the floor.
Again.
And. Well."
Al:
"Sex. Right?"
Tim:
"Right.
She asked if I was just going to stand there staring all night, and, well of course not.
And she was into it man, and of course I was too.
Even when she changed.
Even when she started speaking some fucking nonsense. Possibly German I don't fucking know?
We did the deed. It was good.
End of story I guess?"
Al:
"Yeah. Thanks Tim.
Well, cats and bunny's, and I've got to wonder, all this talk, is the real Bunny out there listening? Are you a fan of big Al Rope Bunny?
Get in touch, drop a line, we'd all love to hear your tale.
What an episode that would be kink fans, am I right?
For now though we're all wrapped up, hopefully some of you literally. Ha. As always remember you can find my back catalogue in the usual places, and hey, if you liked what you just heard why not consider becoming a fan?
Search Big Al's kink on your browser of choice, come and see my page of wonders.
Next week I'm going on walkabout, asking random and mostly unsuspecting members of the public the important questions.
Ball versus ring for instance, or rope versus tape. And for those of you who haven't tuned into my walkabout 'casts before, they're worth a listen.
Promise.
Stay kinky out there, stay safe.
Until next time, thank you for listening."
Episode 37.
Al:
"Welcome. Welcome, all you kinky cats and rope. Ha. Sorry, you'll see. Welcome cats and bunny's, I'm Big Al, your host and guide as we explore and talk to people with tales of kink to share. As we delve, and dive, seeking out those fun times.
Our guest today is Timothy. Can I call you Tim?"
Tim:
"Sure. Hey, Al, thanks for having me on man."
Al:
"Thanks for joining us Tim.
So.
Right off the bat. No bullshit, you've got a Rope Bunny tale to share am I right?"
Tim:
"I sure do Al."
Al:
"And just to clarify, for the benefit of those invisible listeners from the standards office, the regulators keeping us all safe from inappropriate content.
This won't get me taken off the air?"
Tim:
"She's grown up, Al. Looking older, you know, in the face. The Rope Bunny isn't a kid anymore."
Al:
"And what's more, she's definitely real?"
Tim:
"Definitely."
Al:
"Well, alright my man.
Tim, the floor is yours. Go ahead and tell us your kinky tale."
Tim:
"So. Right. I was at this club, Deep C, but the letter not the ocean. Anyway, one weekend a month they hold a kink night on the Saturday.
They go the full works: cages which, well, they don't actually lock. For safety I guess, but you can throw the bolt across and pretend.
There's a couple of those wooden X crosses though, they're real. Man I've seen some pretty girls lashed to them since I started going. The crosses are either side of the bar, I guess so they can be monitored.
There's other kinky stuff goes down too. Some kind of stage show, normally some rigger showing off, sometimes they pull out volunteers."
Al:
"So you saw the Bunny at this event?"
Tim:
"Yeah. I'd just got a drink, making my way back to a couple of friends and she just walked right passed me man, full bunny suit the colour of storm clouds, those tall ears.
I dropped my drink."
Al:
"Yeah?"
Tim:
"No shit. Sorry, can I say shit?"
Al:
"You can say fuck too, this isn't exactly a child friendly 'cast."
Tim:
"Ha. Right.
I chased after her, caught her shoulder. And she flinched, stopped, then turned around.
That grin, man. You heard she grins Al?"
Al:
"Heard about it, never seen it."
Tim:
"Well.
It's. Um. A little bit scary, like you can see the crazy peeking through.
That rack makes up for it though, damn she's got a pair of tits.
Anyway.
I say 'holy crap you're the Rope Bunny' or something. And she cocks her head, looks me up and down like she's thinking.
Then. No shit. She just goes 'hi, want to go someplace and fuck?'"
Al:
"Really?
Just like that?"
Tim:
"Sounds like bullshit, I know, but she really did just come out with it.
Of course old pro that I am I spluttered and blushed, mouth gaping.
She laughed, but, nervous not mean. Goes 'well?'
Guess I shrugged, said something about my place being a half hour away on the tube.
She throws my shrug back at me. Nods.
And like that we're out the club, walking to the station
Me, and the actual no shit Rope Bunny."
Al:
"So, did you?"
Tim:
"Did we fuck?
Yeah."
And. Well. A gentleman never tells, plus I'm guessing you don't want me to go all X rated?"
Al:
"I'm not in a hurry to get pulled no."
Tim:
"Sure. What I will say though is.
She was. She seemed, nervous, I mean fuck me so was I.
The actual real Rope Bunny, in my house, in my fucking- ha -bed man. And I hadn't even run the hoover all week.
And. It was good, you know. Those tits man, bouncing, huge like balloons they were. Looked fake but I'm okay with that, you know.
And she tied herself up."
Al:
"Yeah?
Well. Tim my man, that part is something. Um. Kink worthy, that my listeners will want to hear about.
If you don't mind?"
Tim:
"No. I mean, yes. Course.
I'd wanted to ask, because ropes, bondage, that's basically her whole thing right?
And I'm into that too. Why else go to Deep C that night? Only thing more sexy then a naked girl in your bed is a tied up naked girl am I right?"
Al:
"Well. You aren't wrong."
Tim:
"Ha.
So I'd been working up to it, but running out of time. Too fucking nervous to even speak to her on the tube, and she seemed distracted, heard her muttering, all quiet like talking to yourself, a bunch of times I'd swear.
And then, through my front door and she's beelining for my bedroom.
She gets straight up on my bed, and-"
Al:
"Careful there man, editing this stuff is a bitch as it is."
Tim:
"Sure.
She just blurts it out, like in the club she just goes 'I'm going to tie myself up' and then looks at me like I'm supposed to know what to say to that.
So I goes 'sure' or 'great' or most likely I just grinned at her like some idiot moron. Which I guess worked because she grinned back, said 'you're cute you know' or something, made me blush anyway.
And then, like clicking my fingers. That easy, she tied herself up whilst I stood there gaping."
Al:
"Come on then my man, details on this."
Tim:
"My bed is just a box spring, nothing fancy.
But it's got legs underneath at the corners.
She lays down, on her back and this black rope kinda. Grows. Out of the air joining her limbs to the legs on my bed. Wrists, ankles, she winds up spread out like the girls, and sometimes dudes although I don't pay them any attention. You know."
Al:
"Course not. Tim."
Tim:
"So she's, suddenly, like all trussed into this loose X shape. And then she goes 'want to see a trick' giving me a grin. And I probably said 'wasn't that already one' and she just winks.
And then like. Ha. Magic, those ropes all started shortening, like winding in the slack the rope kinda eating itself. Her limbs getting pulled out straighter like she's on some medieval rack.
They stretched her so tight, those magic ropes. She did this cute little moan as her limbs locked out, all four straight as arrows.
I remember thinking any more and she'll pull an arm out the socket or something.
She laughed, seeing me staring. 'Sorry' she goes 'guess someone got carried away for a moment.' Only she said someone the way you'd say it to mean another person.
But, who else was there? Wasn't me that did it.
Not complaining of course, she looked fucking hot.
She's looking at me, and I'm stating right back at those tits, and that grin gets wider, and she shakes like a tease and laughs as my jaw hits the floor.
Again.
And. Well."
Al:
"Sex. Right?"
Tim:
"Right.
She asked if I was just going to stand there staring all night, and, well of course not.
And she was into it man, and of course I was too.
Even when she changed.
Even when she started speaking some fucking nonsense. Possibly German I don't fucking know?
We did the deed. It was good.
End of story I guess?"
Al:
"Yeah. Thanks Tim.
Well, cats and bunny's, and I've got to wonder, all this talk, is the real Bunny out there listening? Are you a fan of big Al Rope Bunny?
Get in touch, drop a line, we'd all love to hear your tale.
What an episode that would be kink fans, am I right?
For now though we're all wrapped up, hopefully some of you literally. Ha. As always remember you can find my back catalogue in the usual places, and hey, if you liked what you just heard why not consider becoming a fan?
Search Big Al's kink on your browser of choice, come and see my page of wonders.
Next week I'm going on walkabout, asking random and mostly unsuspecting members of the public the important questions.
Ball versus ring for instance, or rope versus tape. And for those of you who haven't tuned into my walkabout 'casts before, they're worth a listen.
Promise.
Stay kinky out there, stay safe.
Until next time, thank you for listening."
-
tickletied84
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 490
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Scotland
Well....welcome back Bunny, we've missed you!
Great interlude of the KinkPodcast
Tim is a lucky guy!
Great interlude of the KinkPodcast
Tim is a lucky guy!-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 285
- Joined: 1 year ago
And so the Rope Bunny returns - older (and perhaps wiser?)
Very sad, how things ended up between her and Jody (and it seems almost everyone in her life). A bit of a sour note to start things off, even if it does make sense - people tend to be wary of what they do not understand, and given the circumstances of everything, well, it is perhaps not surprising her friends and mother did not exactly take it well.
Between this and the money, it seems it caused her to very much live the life of a carefree wanderer - much like I suppose the Rope Bunny lived before all of this happened. So perhaps one of them is more 'okay' with this then the other, even if the Bunny did seem to like Jody as well.
Not that she knew/knows of course, but it is quite the fun little callback.
-
As for the new part to the story, rather then the 'catchup/epilogue for the previous story'...
It begs the question - the Bunny seemed to be somewhat wary of men before (wary is perhaps not the right word, but she certainly seemed far more interested in tying up girls, and seemed uncomfortable when asked to tie herself for a boy), and Kayley seemed to be far more (exclusively?) interested in girls. So who was the impetus for this liaison? Kayley exploring a new side of herself? Or perhaps the Bunny pushing her to do this? Or perhaps neither of them knows exactly, given their strange co-existence.
Interesting too how she takes charge in the scene, pretty much from start to finish - a way to mask her own (understandable) nervousness, I suppose?
Another thing I find interesting to consider is her self bondage - while she can bind herself on a whim she can also unbind herself just as easily. And in some ways one might argue that takes some of the fun out of it - usually the requirement for trust, and the general vulnerability that comes with being bound is part of the appeal.
Well at least for some people.
Either way, to be clear, not in any way meant as a criticism, just an idle thought.
And with that, I suppose I have said more then enough. Feels redundant to say it, but looks like yet another promising story!
Very sad, how things ended up between her and Jody (and it seems almost everyone in her life). A bit of a sour note to start things off, even if it does make sense - people tend to be wary of what they do not understand, and given the circumstances of everything, well, it is perhaps not surprising her friends and mother did not exactly take it well.
Between this and the money, it seems it caused her to very much live the life of a carefree wanderer - much like I suppose the Rope Bunny lived before all of this happened. So perhaps one of them is more 'okay' with this then the other, even if the Bunny did seem to like Jody as well.
I know I mentioned the same the last time this was brought up, but still quite an amusing thing for her to think, given the true nature of 'what happened to make her this way'
Not that she knew/knows of course, but it is quite the fun little callback.
-
As for the new part to the story, rather then the 'catchup/epilogue for the previous story'...
It begs the question - the Bunny seemed to be somewhat wary of men before (wary is perhaps not the right word, but she certainly seemed far more interested in tying up girls, and seemed uncomfortable when asked to tie herself for a boy), and Kayley seemed to be far more (exclusively?) interested in girls. So who was the impetus for this liaison? Kayley exploring a new side of herself? Or perhaps the Bunny pushing her to do this? Or perhaps neither of them knows exactly, given their strange co-existence.
Interesting too how she takes charge in the scene, pretty much from start to finish - a way to mask her own (understandable) nervousness, I suppose?
Another thing I find interesting to consider is her self bondage - while she can bind herself on a whim she can also unbind herself just as easily. And in some ways one might argue that takes some of the fun out of it - usually the requirement for trust, and the general vulnerability that comes with being bound is part of the appeal.
Well at least for some people.
Either way, to be clear, not in any way meant as a criticism, just an idle thought.
And with that, I suppose I have said more then enough. Feels redundant to say it, but looks like yet another promising story!
To be fair she wasn't gone long
I seem to be in the grip of another writing frenzy.But. Thanks.
Guess we'll see....
Thank you, again, for enjoying my bad humour. I really only add this in (twice now) because I find it all amusing.BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑9 months agoI know I mentioned the same the last time this was brought up, but still quite an amusing thing for her to think, given the true nature of 'what happened to make her this way'
Not that she knew/knows of course, but it is quite the fun little callback.
All will be explained in due course, the podcast is, I thought, a nice set up for what's to come.BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑9 months ago It begs the question - the Bunny seemed to be somewhat wary of men before
Thanks for commenting, for making the hop (pun not intended) across to the adult section.
001.
Kayley.
It's raining in Mexico.
But it's hot too. Muggy. Darker, almost black, clouds massing out towards the horizon, coming closer. Thunder on the way.
A wide brimmed brown leather hat keeps the downpour off my face, but my black lightweight waterproof is unzipped, because of the heat, so I'm getting wet.
But I don't care, really. Three years of wandering and the rain is just water. There's clean, dry clothes in my backpack, and soon I'll go find a hotel for the night.
Maybe I'll stay longer in this one, pay extra for a posh suite and a second night, spend half of tomorrow soaking in a bubble filled tub.
Approving nod, internal like she's stood beside me but in my head, from the Bunny.
Movement catches my eye, people crossing my path, crossing the flow of other people, causing disruption as they move from the glass fronted and blazing neon sign topped building beside me towards the purr of an engine waiting at idle on the kerb.
I slow, glance up to pay attention.
My gaze locking on, of all the impossible encounters, Ted- still sporting that cool black mohawk -as he turns, his own sniper like gaze skating over me. Just another face in a crowded sea.
Only to jerk back moments later as recognition hits home.
As my left shoulder and bicep, the old wounds, begin to itch, a cascade of memories like a tidal wave rises, falls, swamping me.
Edward. The old deposed- but nicely, family inheriting, responsibility passing down generation to generation, eldest to eldest -King of a global shipping empire. His granddaughter, eldest child of Edward's eldest son.
Basically the current heir.
Had been kidnapped by a rival company, who planned to force a wedding, joining the controlling families in such a way that they, and not Edward's clan, would have the power.
Power enough to tear a rival apart from the inside.
The girls father had engaged the law. Official channels. However, and prehaps money talks, this dastardly plan was bizarrely legal in the rival company's country of origin.
Nothing anyone could do?
Well.
Edward, a dying breed, held to a different life view. He still recognised the old powers, those things most sane people dismiss as fiction or fairy tale make believe.
Things like the Rope Bunny. Me.
He called, more forcefully then most, which unfortunately tore me away from dinner with Mum, who at the time didn't know I could be plucked and thrown halfway across the world on another's say so.
I- oops -couldn't stop myself changing into the Bunny in front of her.
I don't blame him, despite the mess that followed my eventual return, a mess that's led me via a long winding path to become something of a nomad.
A girl, Bunny, with no home.
Edward couldn't of known. And besides as I told him at the time: we're the Rope Bunny, risk is what we do.
Charged with mounting the rescue of a girl only a year my junior- she was fourteen, her, unless I succeeded, new husband supposedly closing in on thirty -Edward hired Ted and a competent if unsmiling lady: Mirriam. Ex military types, serious back up should things head south.
I never, at the time, knew which country Edward bought me to, nor to which the three of us were dispatched.
I fell asleep on the plane.
But. We went in, we got her out.
However. Half of us is, was, a fifteen year old schoolgirl, untrained in the arts of stealth and war. I did my best, help from the Bunny, and we made it within sight of freedom.
Before I got shot. Twice.
All of this flashes across my vision in moments.
Ted- who alongside Mirriam likely saved my life, quick blunt field surgery to stem our blood loss. His quiet double cough, private, not aimed at me nonetheless brings me back to reality.
My eyes refocusing, now spotting the girl slightly ahead of a stalled Ted, stopped, turning.
Libby.
Miss Elizabeth Baxter, the girl I rescued. All grown up.
Her black hair is in a shaggy pixie style, tickling her neck and slightly lower one side. She looks to be of a rough size with me, an eight, though time spent travelling has left me toned and tanned, whilst Libby's skin is naturally olive coloured.
My hair, still naturally blonde, long and curling, is tied back into a loose tail.
She looks like she's just come from, I dart a glance at the building, the gym. Skintight dark grey leggings with 'Gymshark' in white across her butt and pink Adidas, a white spandex sports bra top covers the modest swell of her chest.
I'm wearing army boots, which is all I ever wear these days. Bare legs and faded blue denim cutoffs with ripped hems, a black canvas belt the too long end hanging down. Underneath my waterproof a red vest top, the edges and tops, the straps, of my black bra visible.
"Bunny?"
"Hi Libby." Figured I'd wind up in Edward's city. Eventually. Didn't honestly think I'd ever see him, or her, let alone Ted again though.
She steps closer, Ted looming at her side, eyeballing the people close by.
Making room.
"What are you...?" Looking around. She's not wearing a jacket, is getting wet. I'm already wet, water from an angle my hat can't deflect, hitting my chest and running down into my cleavage.
"It is you," frowning, "Bunny?"
"It's her." Ted, tight nod. Does he recognise me despite my changed appearance in certain obvious places.
Namely my chest.
Or has he already spotted the scaring on my left shoulder, the pattern like cracks radiating out from a small crater, it's twin on my bicep currently hidden.
"I could prove it." Teasing smile, a Bunny smile, leaking onto my face. "If you'd like?"
And, I would too. Just because and to hell with the consequences of switching into the Bunny in front of a crowd.
Just for fun, the ever teasing mischievous Bunny would do it, and we'd deal with, worry about, the fallout after.
Libby stares at me awhile longer, her mouth raised into a smile at my comment. I stare back, the urge- down Bunny, though she is cute -to lean in and lick rain off her much smaller then mine but still there cleavage coming and going.
Something about the two of us standing in the rain, getting soaked, droplets glistening on bare skin, is getting me slowly worked up.
In the mood.
"Miss." Ted, breaking the stare off Libby and me seem to be having. "The car's waiting?"
"Of course." Shaking- is she feeling that pull too -herself. "Sorry Ted."
She turns to leave, makes it a half dozen paces me watching her, thoughts switching back around to a hotel. A bath.
"Bunny?"
"Yes?" Shouting back over the general noise of people all around.
"Hungry?"
"Mostly wet." Not realising the potential double meaning, but only if she was feeling something too, until after the words are out, seeing a smile dash across Libby's face.
She holds out her hand, Ted, hovering, looking from her to me to the car. I shrug, why not, they'll still be plenty of hotel's available after I eat.
Follow Libby towards and into the back of a black saloon that looks posh. Ted, shutting the back door walks around, climbs in the front passenger side.
The car pulls away into traffic.
"How's life Ted?"
"Working." A shrug without turning around. "How's the shoulder?"
"Hurts in the rain, the cold," I shrug back, "sometimes."
Ted nods like he understands.
"Mirriam?"
"She's got a family now." Shaking his head. "Better off out of it."
"Not," at the time I'd assumed, they'd seemed so comfortable working together, "with you?"
"No." Turning now to flash me a quick grin. "We only worked together, nothing more."
"Where too," facing Libby now, "Miss?"
"Um." Glancing down at herself, at me, both of us already leaving puddles. Libby laughs, I join in. "Back to the flat please."
"Very good."
I see the driver nod, though Ted spoke, and twenty minutes later Libby and me, Ted in tow, are riding a familiar lift upwards.
Edward's building.
Is he home?
We stop on thirty-four, wasn't Edward higher up? In the roof? A large lobby, framed artwork of boats, of course. Potted plants. A sofa, as though waiting for the lift would require a sit down. Beside the lift double doors with a green arrow sign suspended above. Stairs? A short corridor runs left and right out of sight behind me, in front four doors: two directly ahead and one each left and right.
"Miss." Ted, tipping Libby a small yet unsmiling, serious, salute. "Call me if you need anything."
"I will Ted," a small smile as she returns the gesture, "thank you."
Ted nods.
"Bunny." Turning to me, a nod, a rare smile showing. "It's good to see you hale."
"Ted." Hale? The Bunny rolling her eyes, old words, formal. "Thank you."
Fixing his gaze, saying it again, because it's important.
Ted nods, turns and let's himself into the right hand single door. Libby gestures, leads me through one of the doubles directly ahead.
"I'm eighteen now." Talking over her shoulder at me as she wanders through rooms. "Technically an 'adult.'" Grinning as I- on my own since sixteen -laugh. "Which means I'm officially entitled to my own flat within the family building."
"Nice flat too." Nodding.
It is. There's only one bedroom, one bathroom, and the lounge combines with the kitchen to form one huge space. Huge being the word, all the rooms are larger then necessary, all of them obviously connected to some serious money despite the sparse decorations: a couple of cacti dotted on windowsills and shelves, a framed annotated map showing, I think, the movement of ships during Trafalgar. The flat couldn't be called girly, there's no pink.
Although there are a half dozen cuddly pokemon of varying sizes on and around her double bed.
"Shower?"
"No." Still eying up that long soak, which I know is tomorrow, but I'm building up to it, savouring the approaching moment my body hits the hot soapy water. "I'll just change, if that's okay?"
"Sure." Pulling clothing out of drawers. "You don't mind if I...."
Waving gestures out the bedroom door. I look up, shake my head and smile.
"Go ahead."
"Great." Almost out the door Libby stops, one hand on the frame. "You can change in here, I'll." Waving the bundle in her free hand. "Change in the bathroom. Is pizza takeout okay?"
"So long as we don't put tomato on the base."
Which has her turning, look of disgust on her face. I manage to maintain my own neutral expression for a couple of seconds, then burst out laughing.
Libby picks up a snorlax, large and rounded, tossing it at me and grinning as it bounces off my head, though mostly only because I didn't dodge, or block.
She leaves. I change.
Pretty certain, and me not exactly a pro when it comes to reading these things, but I don't think Libby wants me to surprise her in the shower.
Think I was reading that earlier Mexican- ha -staring contest standoff in the rain wrong.
In dry clothes, wet ones in a bag with my dirty clothes. Hopefully the hotel tonight will be one that offers a laundry service.
Dry, I head barefoot for the lounge, dumping my backpack and boots beside the front door first ready for later.
Decide to check out Libby's bookcase, say hello to the lonely little plant sat there, pick out something to flick through incase she's awhile.
Find a whole shelf full of old leather bound books. Edward's books, if I'm not mistaken.
Kayley.
It's raining in Mexico.
But it's hot too. Muggy. Darker, almost black, clouds massing out towards the horizon, coming closer. Thunder on the way.
A wide brimmed brown leather hat keeps the downpour off my face, but my black lightweight waterproof is unzipped, because of the heat, so I'm getting wet.
But I don't care, really. Three years of wandering and the rain is just water. There's clean, dry clothes in my backpack, and soon I'll go find a hotel for the night.
Maybe I'll stay longer in this one, pay extra for a posh suite and a second night, spend half of tomorrow soaking in a bubble filled tub.
Approving nod, internal like she's stood beside me but in my head, from the Bunny.
Movement catches my eye, people crossing my path, crossing the flow of other people, causing disruption as they move from the glass fronted and blazing neon sign topped building beside me towards the purr of an engine waiting at idle on the kerb.
I slow, glance up to pay attention.
My gaze locking on, of all the impossible encounters, Ted- still sporting that cool black mohawk -as he turns, his own sniper like gaze skating over me. Just another face in a crowded sea.
Only to jerk back moments later as recognition hits home.
As my left shoulder and bicep, the old wounds, begin to itch, a cascade of memories like a tidal wave rises, falls, swamping me.
Edward. The old deposed- but nicely, family inheriting, responsibility passing down generation to generation, eldest to eldest -King of a global shipping empire. His granddaughter, eldest child of Edward's eldest son.
Basically the current heir.
Had been kidnapped by a rival company, who planned to force a wedding, joining the controlling families in such a way that they, and not Edward's clan, would have the power.
Power enough to tear a rival apart from the inside.
The girls father had engaged the law. Official channels. However, and prehaps money talks, this dastardly plan was bizarrely legal in the rival company's country of origin.
Nothing anyone could do?
Well.
Edward, a dying breed, held to a different life view. He still recognised the old powers, those things most sane people dismiss as fiction or fairy tale make believe.
Things like the Rope Bunny. Me.
He called, more forcefully then most, which unfortunately tore me away from dinner with Mum, who at the time didn't know I could be plucked and thrown halfway across the world on another's say so.
I- oops -couldn't stop myself changing into the Bunny in front of her.
I don't blame him, despite the mess that followed my eventual return, a mess that's led me via a long winding path to become something of a nomad.
A girl, Bunny, with no home.
Edward couldn't of known. And besides as I told him at the time: we're the Rope Bunny, risk is what we do.
Charged with mounting the rescue of a girl only a year my junior- she was fourteen, her, unless I succeeded, new husband supposedly closing in on thirty -Edward hired Ted and a competent if unsmiling lady: Mirriam. Ex military types, serious back up should things head south.
I never, at the time, knew which country Edward bought me to, nor to which the three of us were dispatched.
I fell asleep on the plane.
But. We went in, we got her out.
However. Half of us is, was, a fifteen year old schoolgirl, untrained in the arts of stealth and war. I did my best, help from the Bunny, and we made it within sight of freedom.
Before I got shot. Twice.
All of this flashes across my vision in moments.
Ted- who alongside Mirriam likely saved my life, quick blunt field surgery to stem our blood loss. His quiet double cough, private, not aimed at me nonetheless brings me back to reality.
My eyes refocusing, now spotting the girl slightly ahead of a stalled Ted, stopped, turning.
Libby.
Miss Elizabeth Baxter, the girl I rescued. All grown up.
Her black hair is in a shaggy pixie style, tickling her neck and slightly lower one side. She looks to be of a rough size with me, an eight, though time spent travelling has left me toned and tanned, whilst Libby's skin is naturally olive coloured.
My hair, still naturally blonde, long and curling, is tied back into a loose tail.
She looks like she's just come from, I dart a glance at the building, the gym. Skintight dark grey leggings with 'Gymshark' in white across her butt and pink Adidas, a white spandex sports bra top covers the modest swell of her chest.
I'm wearing army boots, which is all I ever wear these days. Bare legs and faded blue denim cutoffs with ripped hems, a black canvas belt the too long end hanging down. Underneath my waterproof a red vest top, the edges and tops, the straps, of my black bra visible.
"Bunny?"
"Hi Libby." Figured I'd wind up in Edward's city. Eventually. Didn't honestly think I'd ever see him, or her, let alone Ted again though.
She steps closer, Ted looming at her side, eyeballing the people close by.
Making room.
"What are you...?" Looking around. She's not wearing a jacket, is getting wet. I'm already wet, water from an angle my hat can't deflect, hitting my chest and running down into my cleavage.
"It is you," frowning, "Bunny?"
"It's her." Ted, tight nod. Does he recognise me despite my changed appearance in certain obvious places.
Namely my chest.
Or has he already spotted the scaring on my left shoulder, the pattern like cracks radiating out from a small crater, it's twin on my bicep currently hidden.
"I could prove it." Teasing smile, a Bunny smile, leaking onto my face. "If you'd like?"
And, I would too. Just because and to hell with the consequences of switching into the Bunny in front of a crowd.
Just for fun, the ever teasing mischievous Bunny would do it, and we'd deal with, worry about, the fallout after.
Libby stares at me awhile longer, her mouth raised into a smile at my comment. I stare back, the urge- down Bunny, though she is cute -to lean in and lick rain off her much smaller then mine but still there cleavage coming and going.
Something about the two of us standing in the rain, getting soaked, droplets glistening on bare skin, is getting me slowly worked up.
In the mood.
"Miss." Ted, breaking the stare off Libby and me seem to be having. "The car's waiting?"
"Of course." Shaking- is she feeling that pull too -herself. "Sorry Ted."
She turns to leave, makes it a half dozen paces me watching her, thoughts switching back around to a hotel. A bath.
"Bunny?"
"Yes?" Shouting back over the general noise of people all around.
"Hungry?"
"Mostly wet." Not realising the potential double meaning, but only if she was feeling something too, until after the words are out, seeing a smile dash across Libby's face.
She holds out her hand, Ted, hovering, looking from her to me to the car. I shrug, why not, they'll still be plenty of hotel's available after I eat.
Follow Libby towards and into the back of a black saloon that looks posh. Ted, shutting the back door walks around, climbs in the front passenger side.
The car pulls away into traffic.
"How's life Ted?"
"Working." A shrug without turning around. "How's the shoulder?"
"Hurts in the rain, the cold," I shrug back, "sometimes."
Ted nods like he understands.
"Mirriam?"
"She's got a family now." Shaking his head. "Better off out of it."
"Not," at the time I'd assumed, they'd seemed so comfortable working together, "with you?"
"No." Turning now to flash me a quick grin. "We only worked together, nothing more."
"Where too," facing Libby now, "Miss?"
"Um." Glancing down at herself, at me, both of us already leaving puddles. Libby laughs, I join in. "Back to the flat please."
"Very good."
I see the driver nod, though Ted spoke, and twenty minutes later Libby and me, Ted in tow, are riding a familiar lift upwards.
Edward's building.
Is he home?
We stop on thirty-four, wasn't Edward higher up? In the roof? A large lobby, framed artwork of boats, of course. Potted plants. A sofa, as though waiting for the lift would require a sit down. Beside the lift double doors with a green arrow sign suspended above. Stairs? A short corridor runs left and right out of sight behind me, in front four doors: two directly ahead and one each left and right.
"Miss." Ted, tipping Libby a small yet unsmiling, serious, salute. "Call me if you need anything."
"I will Ted," a small smile as she returns the gesture, "thank you."
Ted nods.
"Bunny." Turning to me, a nod, a rare smile showing. "It's good to see you hale."
"Ted." Hale? The Bunny rolling her eyes, old words, formal. "Thank you."
Fixing his gaze, saying it again, because it's important.
Ted nods, turns and let's himself into the right hand single door. Libby gestures, leads me through one of the doubles directly ahead.
"I'm eighteen now." Talking over her shoulder at me as she wanders through rooms. "Technically an 'adult.'" Grinning as I- on my own since sixteen -laugh. "Which means I'm officially entitled to my own flat within the family building."
"Nice flat too." Nodding.
It is. There's only one bedroom, one bathroom, and the lounge combines with the kitchen to form one huge space. Huge being the word, all the rooms are larger then necessary, all of them obviously connected to some serious money despite the sparse decorations: a couple of cacti dotted on windowsills and shelves, a framed annotated map showing, I think, the movement of ships during Trafalgar. The flat couldn't be called girly, there's no pink.
Although there are a half dozen cuddly pokemon of varying sizes on and around her double bed.
"Shower?"
"No." Still eying up that long soak, which I know is tomorrow, but I'm building up to it, savouring the approaching moment my body hits the hot soapy water. "I'll just change, if that's okay?"
"Sure." Pulling clothing out of drawers. "You don't mind if I...."
Waving gestures out the bedroom door. I look up, shake my head and smile.
"Go ahead."
"Great." Almost out the door Libby stops, one hand on the frame. "You can change in here, I'll." Waving the bundle in her free hand. "Change in the bathroom. Is pizza takeout okay?"
"So long as we don't put tomato on the base."
Which has her turning, look of disgust on her face. I manage to maintain my own neutral expression for a couple of seconds, then burst out laughing.
Libby picks up a snorlax, large and rounded, tossing it at me and grinning as it bounces off my head, though mostly only because I didn't dodge, or block.
She leaves. I change.
Pretty certain, and me not exactly a pro when it comes to reading these things, but I don't think Libby wants me to surprise her in the shower.
Think I was reading that earlier Mexican- ha -staring contest standoff in the rain wrong.
In dry clothes, wet ones in a bag with my dirty clothes. Hopefully the hotel tonight will be one that offers a laundry service.
Dry, I head barefoot for the lounge, dumping my backpack and boots beside the front door first ready for later.
Decide to check out Libby's bookcase, say hello to the lonely little plant sat there, pick out something to flick through incase she's awhile.
Find a whole shelf full of old leather bound books. Edward's books, if I'm not mistaken.
-
Switchgirl
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 46
- Joined: 1 year ago
Good to see the RB/ Kayley are still with is but sad to see Jody is no longer on the scene - perhaps a reunion at some point?
Prehaps....Switchgirl wrote: ↑9 months ago sad to see Jody is no longer on the scene - perhaps a reunion at some point?
Thanks for commenting, for crossing over to the adult side and continuing along with me.
002.
Kayley.
"Aren't these Edward's?"
"They were."
Were.
Right.
"How long ago?" Turning to face Libby, she's changed into a football top, yellow with green at the collar and tips of the short sleeves. Brazil? The shirt is baggy and oversized, coming halfway to her bare knees.
I, assume she's wearing shorts underneath?
I'm wearing a dress, running out of clothing options, if not the hotel later I'll need a self service laundrette tomorrow. A low scooped neckline and thin shoulder straps, the hem nowhere near my knees but not short to the point I'd worry. The dress is fitted and made of a semi stretchy spandex like material, clinging, an all over khaki camouflage pattern of greens and black.
I'm not, not wearing a bra on purpose. I'm down to my last clean one, out of three, and am saving it for tomorrow should I need to go walkabout.
"Last year." Small smile. "We scattered him out to sea. It's." Shrugging. "Tradition."
"And you got his books?"
"He started teaching me." Stepping closer, to me and the bookcase. "After you...."
Vague waving gestures.
"Got myself shot up like a noob?" Grinning, easy to laugh now, afterwards.
"Rescued me." Quietly, looking at the floor.
"Well." Shrugging. "I did ha-"
"-ve help."
Like brushing passed me, arms spread wide in a 'the Champ is here' way. I, stepping willingly back as is our shared way, giggle, shake my head.
Fur white like falling snow.
Show boater. I mouth. The Bunny sticking her tongue out in response, looking at Libby, whose mouth is open in part shock part confusion.
Making me laugh, realising that, again, I've done internal things out loud.
"It's." Reaching out, tentative to brush the fur of my arm. "Really you?"
"Last time we checked."
"And the, um." Circular gesture of her face. "Other?"
"Kayley's here too." Copying the gesture, Libby shakes her head, smiling at my gentle mocking tease.
"Edward told you stuff then?" Arms crossed beneath the breasts we don't regret, or, the breasts we pretend ignorance when it comes to our reasoning at the time. Not fooling ourselves for one second. "About me?"
"As much as he knew." Subconsciously copying my pose, Libby's can't be more then a B, dwarfed by my F's.
Bigger then.
N-"-o." Shaking my head, we banished her, or the name at least.
I did not, in a moment of insanity as an eighteenth birthday gift to myself, get a pair of canons just to impress a girl I haven't even seen for over three years.
"Bunny?"
"Sorry." Brushing off the concern. "So Edward told you it isn't just me in here." Tapping my head. "That Kayley and me-"
"-Share." Nodding, finishing my sentence.
"Share." Finishing it myself. Nodding back.
We have another, like outside in the rain, small stare off. Just, silence. Gazes not locked but occasionally skating together, me regarding her, Libby's eyes, I'd swear or prehaps I am bad at this, failing mostly to stay off my chest.
I guess my cleavage, deeper now then when she last saw me. My suit changed too. But.
Both Kayley and me smiling, perks of growing up.
But, she's most likely just looking because they're right there, kinda all up in her face. I'm not getting any sense of flirting, didn't come here to sleep with her anyway.
Although, yes, Kayley- finger to my lips, hush -we do agree that she's cute.
"What?"
"You're." Libby smiles at me. "Doing it again."
"Doing what?" Puzzled, but half smiling.
"Grandfather said you held conversations with yourself, gestured at stuff he and you weren't even discussing. You've." Smile growing. "Done it a bunch of times just in the hour since we met."
"Well." Shrugging. What are you going to do.
Did we just tell Libby that I think she's cute?
We order food, Libby using her phones Internet. I watch her, not caring whilst Kayley pretends nonchalance at a gadget she hasn't owned in years.
Fooling no-
"-one."
"Oh."
"Ah." Looking down at my bare arms, at the khaki now clinging to my chest. I look back up at Libby, shrug. Smile. "Hello again."
"Fucking weird." But smiling back. "Doesn't it freak you out?" Not waiting for me to answer. "Because it sure as hell does me."
"Well." It does? "Really?"
"No." Laughing. "It'd take some getting used to if we were dating though."
Instantly blushing, her gaze flying off my chest.
Whilst I swallow the brief stab of memory, the only person either of us have ever dated.
Jo-
"Stop it."
"Sorry."
"Hey." Realising I'd half shouted, at myself of course but Libby isn't used to my crazy ways. "Not you." Not thinking, stepping in to hug her. "I was telling myself off for...."
Voice drifting off as I become aware that she's tensing as my F cups mash her smaller breasts.
I let go, step back just as Libby moves to hug me back, leaning in, so I wind up stepping out of her embrace.
Libby freezes with her arms out, looking from them to me.
And I can't help it, I laugh.
"Sorry." Between giggles, her smiling too, dropping her arms. "Want to try that again?"
Teasing, possibly flirting. Both my, and the Bunny's imagined, mouth, dropping open as Libby steps toward me now. Hugging me.
The phone next to her front door. Intercom? Ringing moments later.
Our food.
We leave the flatscreen off. Libby has a pair of turntables wired into some pretty serious speakers. She let's me choose from an eclectic selection of hip hop and US gangster rap. I decide old school, Libby nodding approval as she pulls the N.W.A album out the sleeve, setting it to play as background, the bass still forceful enough to be felt through me.
We sit on the floor either side of a long low table, ignoring her sofa. The pizza box and bottles of beer to either side, wooden chess set in the middle.
We don't really focus, on the game. We eat, talk, enjoy the music. Remembering to take moves sporadically in fits and starts. Forgetting who's turn it is.
Libby laughing as at least twice I hold arguments with the Bunny, with myself, over strategy. The second time becoming.
"Well then you do it."
"Alright I wi-"
"-ll." Libby blinking as the Bunny ripples out, replacing me. Grinning she reaches a fur clad arm out, moving my piece.
Sitting back with arms crossed. Satisfied.
"Check."
"What?"
"Check."Libby with a grin of her own, pointing, indicating the flanking move.
Scowling, which makes Libby laugh, which makes the Bunny grin, reaching out, forwards, both waved- unnecessary but it's fun to do gestures -fingers and power.
Libby, emitting a muffled yelp of surprise, topples over sideways as her limbs are pulled back into a- not too tight because I am only having fun -hogtie.
"Well." Kayley shaking her head, tutting. "Happy n-"
"-ow?"
Bunny smirking as she drops out, she's had her fun, letting me take over again. Back to a clinging dress and fairly obvious nipples.
With a crash Libby accidentally back kicks the table, sending chess pieces tumbling to all corners, at least a third falling off the table.
Laughing, I come up to kneel, leaning forwards to peer over the table, breasts hanging down brushing the expensive wooden board, dress front hanging low. Showing everything.
"Hey."
"Ggfdmm." Rolling over, Libby looks up at me, eyes going wide.
At my on display chest?
"You okay?"
"Mmmggddd fffppggg mmm." Flopping around, pulling her arms and legs, which pushes her chest out. Libby, I think, nods.
And in the Bunny's expert opinion she doesn't seem upset nor mad.
Cute though.
But I feel bad, for binding and gagging her as petty revenge. So. More unnecessary finger waving and pointing, and, she's free.
"Better?"
"Well." Sitting up, shrugging. "I mean, you didn't have to let me go." Blushing slightly, not looking me in the eye. "I guess."
Oh?
"Another game?"
"Not sure her pride can take four straight losses." Grinning at Libby, who smiles back. The Bunny sticks her tongue out.
Not mad, playful.
I clamp a hand over my mouth, force my tongue back inside. Libby laughs.
Both of us a little tipsy.
Libby, rising, stretching- hint of black spandex shorts under her riding up top -sets about changing the music, switching angry black men out for a softer female harmony, the bass no less quiet but the overall tone more mellow. Taking the empty food boxes, the bottles of sauce, she walks across towards the kitchen space.
I stand too. Stretch arms spread wide whilst eying up the three seater sofa.
Decide, taking my drink, sitting down and sinking into soft pale blue fabric on one side, that I've had enough of hard floors for one evening.
Returning, capturing her drink between pronged fingers without stopping, Libby wanders over to join me.
Sitting down in the middle, right next to me. Sitting facing sideways, her body leaning into the back cushioning, drink in her one crossed leg lap.
Facing me.
And it feels, looks like, a move. Most people, even close friends, would sit at opposite ends leaving a space.
Is it then?
I'm trying to decide what to do about it, whether I even want to do anything. Do I want, need, to take the lead?
We're the Rope Bunny, mouthing the words, similar to something she actually once said to my friends, not the takes the lead in flirting games Bunny.
I grin. Libby cocks her head, giving me a look. I shake mine. She nods.
"Grandfather thought. Well." Taking a sip, slipping the bottle back to lean against her crotch. "He gave you books?"
"That he did."
"And yet." Picking her bottle up again, waving it at my body, her hand most likely accidentally but still, coming very close to my jutting like horizontal mountains breasts.
"We can't read them."
Deadpan. Quite an achievement considering the handful of months, back at the start of all this: fifteen, arguing it seemed with everyone, not even my own rapidly vanishing from my life girlfriend to stand by my side. My alternate despair and anger and more then enough crazy out of the blue fits of laughter to add weight to people's view that I ought to be locked up.
Without access to my room key.
Sure. I love the Bunny, just as she loves me. We're comfortable to the point you'd struggle to see the join, and if we parted I'd miss her. But.
But.
My life isn't, was never meant to be, hers. A free flowing sprit, timeless, drifting on her own will. The Rope Bunny was never meant to be trapped and contained, as she now is inside of me.
As for my life. Sixteen year olds aren't supposed to pack actual magic books into a backpack, leave home, and then simply not return. They're supposed to go to college, get a job.
Fall in love.
Given the chance, we'd spellcast our way to separate freedoms, wishing each other well, moving on.
And the chance could be inside one of those three books, still wrapped in waterproof cloth, tucked way down in bottom of my backpack.
There are many languages the Bunny can speak, read, understand. A broad range both ancient- the old dead tongues -and modern. But the books are written in symbols, and not hieroglyphs either.
"Oh." Frowning. "But that...."
"Sucks." I nod. Shrug, determined not to let the bad mood I always feel thinking about those books leak in any further. "But." Clinking bottles, leaning forward since Libby's is still in her crotch. "There's always tomorrow."
"And." Leaning in too.
Because I haven't leaned back?
Libby puts her arm on the sofa back, elbow bent and head resting in her hand, close to my face.
"What's tomorrow?"
"Exactly." Grinning. Feeling, something? Some tickle in my belly at the sudden mutual closeness. I, thinking I'm being real subtle but likely not, a gentle push from the Bunny.
Go on why not.
Turn to face Libby, bending one leg up onto the sofa and leaning my upper body closer, my own arm and head copying hers. My chest sort of thrusting out.
Offering?
Libby looks down, tilting her head without taking it off her hand, very obviously, definitely, checking out my breasts.
"I never." Stopping to swallow, head and eyes coming back up to my own. "Got the chance to thank you myself." Leaning, pivoting her upper body closer, bringing our lips almost to touching. "Before."
"I always hoped, dreamed." Another swallow, her voice has gone very quiet. "That I'd see you again."
"And here I am." Closing the already tiny gap further, I gently blow into Libby's parted lips.
She shivers.
Moves.
From her cushion, without standing she turns an about face whilst shifting towards me, coming up onto my lap as I, moving in tandem, turn and bring my legs down.
Sitting properly, Libby now kneeling on my lap, facing me with legs either side.
My breath catches as she leans down, in.
Brief moment of panic at my complete lack of experience.
And then, Libby's lips finding mine, we kiss her back.
Diving in.
Kayley.
"Aren't these Edward's?"
"They were."
Were.
Right.
"How long ago?" Turning to face Libby, she's changed into a football top, yellow with green at the collar and tips of the short sleeves. Brazil? The shirt is baggy and oversized, coming halfway to her bare knees.
I, assume she's wearing shorts underneath?
I'm wearing a dress, running out of clothing options, if not the hotel later I'll need a self service laundrette tomorrow. A low scooped neckline and thin shoulder straps, the hem nowhere near my knees but not short to the point I'd worry. The dress is fitted and made of a semi stretchy spandex like material, clinging, an all over khaki camouflage pattern of greens and black.
I'm not, not wearing a bra on purpose. I'm down to my last clean one, out of three, and am saving it for tomorrow should I need to go walkabout.
"Last year." Small smile. "We scattered him out to sea. It's." Shrugging. "Tradition."
"And you got his books?"
"He started teaching me." Stepping closer, to me and the bookcase. "After you...."
Vague waving gestures.
"Got myself shot up like a noob?" Grinning, easy to laugh now, afterwards.
"Rescued me." Quietly, looking at the floor.
"Well." Shrugging. "I did ha-"
"-ve help."
Like brushing passed me, arms spread wide in a 'the Champ is here' way. I, stepping willingly back as is our shared way, giggle, shake my head.
Fur white like falling snow.
Show boater. I mouth. The Bunny sticking her tongue out in response, looking at Libby, whose mouth is open in part shock part confusion.
Making me laugh, realising that, again, I've done internal things out loud.
"It's." Reaching out, tentative to brush the fur of my arm. "Really you?"
"Last time we checked."
"And the, um." Circular gesture of her face. "Other?"
"Kayley's here too." Copying the gesture, Libby shakes her head, smiling at my gentle mocking tease.
"Edward told you stuff then?" Arms crossed beneath the breasts we don't regret, or, the breasts we pretend ignorance when it comes to our reasoning at the time. Not fooling ourselves for one second. "About me?"
"As much as he knew." Subconsciously copying my pose, Libby's can't be more then a B, dwarfed by my F's.
Bigger then.
N-"-o." Shaking my head, we banished her, or the name at least.
I did not, in a moment of insanity as an eighteenth birthday gift to myself, get a pair of canons just to impress a girl I haven't even seen for over three years.
"Bunny?"
"Sorry." Brushing off the concern. "So Edward told you it isn't just me in here." Tapping my head. "That Kayley and me-"
"-Share." Nodding, finishing my sentence.
"Share." Finishing it myself. Nodding back.
We have another, like outside in the rain, small stare off. Just, silence. Gazes not locked but occasionally skating together, me regarding her, Libby's eyes, I'd swear or prehaps I am bad at this, failing mostly to stay off my chest.
I guess my cleavage, deeper now then when she last saw me. My suit changed too. But.
Both Kayley and me smiling, perks of growing up.
But, she's most likely just looking because they're right there, kinda all up in her face. I'm not getting any sense of flirting, didn't come here to sleep with her anyway.
Although, yes, Kayley- finger to my lips, hush -we do agree that she's cute.
"What?"
"You're." Libby smiles at me. "Doing it again."
"Doing what?" Puzzled, but half smiling.
"Grandfather said you held conversations with yourself, gestured at stuff he and you weren't even discussing. You've." Smile growing. "Done it a bunch of times just in the hour since we met."
"Well." Shrugging. What are you going to do.
Did we just tell Libby that I think she's cute?
We order food, Libby using her phones Internet. I watch her, not caring whilst Kayley pretends nonchalance at a gadget she hasn't owned in years.
Fooling no-
"-one."
"Oh."
"Ah." Looking down at my bare arms, at the khaki now clinging to my chest. I look back up at Libby, shrug. Smile. "Hello again."
"Fucking weird." But smiling back. "Doesn't it freak you out?" Not waiting for me to answer. "Because it sure as hell does me."
"Well." It does? "Really?"
"No." Laughing. "It'd take some getting used to if we were dating though."
Instantly blushing, her gaze flying off my chest.
Whilst I swallow the brief stab of memory, the only person either of us have ever dated.
Jo-
"Stop it."
"Sorry."
"Hey." Realising I'd half shouted, at myself of course but Libby isn't used to my crazy ways. "Not you." Not thinking, stepping in to hug her. "I was telling myself off for...."
Voice drifting off as I become aware that she's tensing as my F cups mash her smaller breasts.
I let go, step back just as Libby moves to hug me back, leaning in, so I wind up stepping out of her embrace.
Libby freezes with her arms out, looking from them to me.
And I can't help it, I laugh.
"Sorry." Between giggles, her smiling too, dropping her arms. "Want to try that again?"
Teasing, possibly flirting. Both my, and the Bunny's imagined, mouth, dropping open as Libby steps toward me now. Hugging me.
The phone next to her front door. Intercom? Ringing moments later.
Our food.
We leave the flatscreen off. Libby has a pair of turntables wired into some pretty serious speakers. She let's me choose from an eclectic selection of hip hop and US gangster rap. I decide old school, Libby nodding approval as she pulls the N.W.A album out the sleeve, setting it to play as background, the bass still forceful enough to be felt through me.
We sit on the floor either side of a long low table, ignoring her sofa. The pizza box and bottles of beer to either side, wooden chess set in the middle.
We don't really focus, on the game. We eat, talk, enjoy the music. Remembering to take moves sporadically in fits and starts. Forgetting who's turn it is.
Libby laughing as at least twice I hold arguments with the Bunny, with myself, over strategy. The second time becoming.
"Well then you do it."
"Alright I wi-"
"-ll." Libby blinking as the Bunny ripples out, replacing me. Grinning she reaches a fur clad arm out, moving my piece.
Sitting back with arms crossed. Satisfied.
"Check."
"What?"
"Check."Libby with a grin of her own, pointing, indicating the flanking move.
Scowling, which makes Libby laugh, which makes the Bunny grin, reaching out, forwards, both waved- unnecessary but it's fun to do gestures -fingers and power.
Libby, emitting a muffled yelp of surprise, topples over sideways as her limbs are pulled back into a- not too tight because I am only having fun -hogtie.
"Well." Kayley shaking her head, tutting. "Happy n-"
"-ow?"
Bunny smirking as she drops out, she's had her fun, letting me take over again. Back to a clinging dress and fairly obvious nipples.
With a crash Libby accidentally back kicks the table, sending chess pieces tumbling to all corners, at least a third falling off the table.
Laughing, I come up to kneel, leaning forwards to peer over the table, breasts hanging down brushing the expensive wooden board, dress front hanging low. Showing everything.
"Hey."
"Ggfdmm." Rolling over, Libby looks up at me, eyes going wide.
At my on display chest?
"You okay?"
"Mmmggddd fffppggg mmm." Flopping around, pulling her arms and legs, which pushes her chest out. Libby, I think, nods.
And in the Bunny's expert opinion she doesn't seem upset nor mad.
Cute though.
But I feel bad, for binding and gagging her as petty revenge. So. More unnecessary finger waving and pointing, and, she's free.
"Better?"
"Well." Sitting up, shrugging. "I mean, you didn't have to let me go." Blushing slightly, not looking me in the eye. "I guess."
Oh?
"Another game?"
"Not sure her pride can take four straight losses." Grinning at Libby, who smiles back. The Bunny sticks her tongue out.
Not mad, playful.
I clamp a hand over my mouth, force my tongue back inside. Libby laughs.
Both of us a little tipsy.
Libby, rising, stretching- hint of black spandex shorts under her riding up top -sets about changing the music, switching angry black men out for a softer female harmony, the bass no less quiet but the overall tone more mellow. Taking the empty food boxes, the bottles of sauce, she walks across towards the kitchen space.
I stand too. Stretch arms spread wide whilst eying up the three seater sofa.
Decide, taking my drink, sitting down and sinking into soft pale blue fabric on one side, that I've had enough of hard floors for one evening.
Returning, capturing her drink between pronged fingers without stopping, Libby wanders over to join me.
Sitting down in the middle, right next to me. Sitting facing sideways, her body leaning into the back cushioning, drink in her one crossed leg lap.
Facing me.
And it feels, looks like, a move. Most people, even close friends, would sit at opposite ends leaving a space.
Is it then?
I'm trying to decide what to do about it, whether I even want to do anything. Do I want, need, to take the lead?
We're the Rope Bunny, mouthing the words, similar to something she actually once said to my friends, not the takes the lead in flirting games Bunny.
I grin. Libby cocks her head, giving me a look. I shake mine. She nods.
"Grandfather thought. Well." Taking a sip, slipping the bottle back to lean against her crotch. "He gave you books?"
"That he did."
"And yet." Picking her bottle up again, waving it at my body, her hand most likely accidentally but still, coming very close to my jutting like horizontal mountains breasts.
"We can't read them."
Deadpan. Quite an achievement considering the handful of months, back at the start of all this: fifteen, arguing it seemed with everyone, not even my own rapidly vanishing from my life girlfriend to stand by my side. My alternate despair and anger and more then enough crazy out of the blue fits of laughter to add weight to people's view that I ought to be locked up.
Without access to my room key.
Sure. I love the Bunny, just as she loves me. We're comfortable to the point you'd struggle to see the join, and if we parted I'd miss her. But.
But.
My life isn't, was never meant to be, hers. A free flowing sprit, timeless, drifting on her own will. The Rope Bunny was never meant to be trapped and contained, as she now is inside of me.
As for my life. Sixteen year olds aren't supposed to pack actual magic books into a backpack, leave home, and then simply not return. They're supposed to go to college, get a job.
Fall in love.
Given the chance, we'd spellcast our way to separate freedoms, wishing each other well, moving on.
And the chance could be inside one of those three books, still wrapped in waterproof cloth, tucked way down in bottom of my backpack.
There are many languages the Bunny can speak, read, understand. A broad range both ancient- the old dead tongues -and modern. But the books are written in symbols, and not hieroglyphs either.
"Oh." Frowning. "But that...."
"Sucks." I nod. Shrug, determined not to let the bad mood I always feel thinking about those books leak in any further. "But." Clinking bottles, leaning forward since Libby's is still in her crotch. "There's always tomorrow."
"And." Leaning in too.
Because I haven't leaned back?
Libby puts her arm on the sofa back, elbow bent and head resting in her hand, close to my face.
"What's tomorrow?"
"Exactly." Grinning. Feeling, something? Some tickle in my belly at the sudden mutual closeness. I, thinking I'm being real subtle but likely not, a gentle push from the Bunny.
Go on why not.
Turn to face Libby, bending one leg up onto the sofa and leaning my upper body closer, my own arm and head copying hers. My chest sort of thrusting out.
Offering?
Libby looks down, tilting her head without taking it off her hand, very obviously, definitely, checking out my breasts.
"I never." Stopping to swallow, head and eyes coming back up to my own. "Got the chance to thank you myself." Leaning, pivoting her upper body closer, bringing our lips almost to touching. "Before."
"I always hoped, dreamed." Another swallow, her voice has gone very quiet. "That I'd see you again."
"And here I am." Closing the already tiny gap further, I gently blow into Libby's parted lips.
She shivers.
Moves.
From her cushion, without standing she turns an about face whilst shifting towards me, coming up onto my lap as I, moving in tandem, turn and bring my legs down.
Sitting properly, Libby now kneeling on my lap, facing me with legs either side.
My breath catches as she leans down, in.
Brief moment of panic at my complete lack of experience.
And then, Libby's lips finding mine, we kiss her back.
Diving in.
Interlude.
First times.
Tim, that had been his name.
Sat beside him on a small packed train rattling and banging through tunnels, nervous, fidgeting inside my too tight feeling Bunny skin. Wanting to come out. The Bunny too, a rare attack of nerves for her, wanting me to come out.
But we can't, switch, because that would've created too many questions.
Nervous, because it was our first time.
Our. Not my. Our, first time.
Because surprisingly the Rope Bunny never has. It isn't something she's, her words, built to care about.
Except now we're twinned, and I, growing older, eighteen when this happened. Cared very much.
Which means now she cared too.
Jody and me never made it close to sex. We hugged, kissed, felt each others breasts. Given time we would've taken the plunge. Naked. Laying together in my narrow bed. Most likely fumbling and with any luck laughing away those first time nerves.
But, there was no Jody.
And I missed, still do miss, her, at first like an ache, like a loss. But the passage of time heals, somewhat, so now the ache is occasional, a thing I attempt to banish whenever it looms.
What helps is: Jody knew, knows, how to contact me. There is, no matter where I am in the wide world, one very simple method of calling us to her side.
Because whilst the original mirror and gagged words is no longer a binding summons, the Rope Bunny can still hear it.
And we'd know- because the smallest faintest part of that connection, once growing between us, still remains, like a personal ident calling card -it was her.
The fact she hasn't says it all.
So.
Moving on.
Eighteen, two years spent wandering, and there had been chances, offers, but I wasn't ready.
But, eighteen, new breasts- which I definitely didnt do to impress Jody, honest -healed, it was time.
Boy or girl though?
I'd never dated before Jody, so, did I like boys? It's this question that made my mind up. I needed, wanted, to find out. Jody just sort of happened, she'd been harbouring a thing, a secret crush, on me for some time. One thing led to another- I'm not going to tell, it's a long story -and she basically got her wish. She got me.
But. Given the chance, would I date a boy?
Or, not date, not back a year and change ago when this all went down, and not now. I'm still wandering, still not ready to either go home or settle. I don't want to be tied- ha, of course that I always want -to a person or place.
Except for h-
Stop it.
Basically. I needed to find someone to fuck. Crude, prehaps, but true.
The thought, I remember, gave me nervous yet happy dancing butterflies.
I found the fetish event quite by accident. A flyer, one small sheet of colourful paper, left in the hotel room by a previous guest. I, we, pondered it, an idea forming, a smile growing on my lips.
Her lips.
Yes.
That could work.
Because despite the Bunny never having actually slept with anyone, her confidence easily eclipses my own. So, she can step out, go to the event, prowl around and snare us both a willing young man.
Tim.
Except, because now my nerves were, are still, her nerves, by the time we're back at his flat her skin feels too tight, too hot. She wants out, but, to change would likely freak Tim out, and then I'd of had to start all over again.
So we fell back on familiar territory, binding myself to Tim's bed, something- his wide eyes and smile -that he clearly approved of.
And when, laying atop me, thrusting gently, caring enough to not just plunge in and treat it like a race. When I did change, my nakedness- because I hadn't worn clothes when the Bunny stepped forward in my hotel room -replacing her fur.
Tim was either too into it to stop, or simply in the moment, fucking the Rope Bunny, he didn't care.
There was no happy ending, for me. Pleasure, tingles, but no explosion. Not his fault, I was such a tightly balled up bundle of worry, no hope or chance of relaxing fully into it. Of letting go.
But, now, next time and every time, I'll be less nervous. Boy or girl- because it was at least good enough to show me I could swing either way -I'll enjoy it more.
First times.
Tim, that had been his name.
Sat beside him on a small packed train rattling and banging through tunnels, nervous, fidgeting inside my too tight feeling Bunny skin. Wanting to come out. The Bunny too, a rare attack of nerves for her, wanting me to come out.
But we can't, switch, because that would've created too many questions.
Nervous, because it was our first time.
Our. Not my. Our, first time.
Because surprisingly the Rope Bunny never has. It isn't something she's, her words, built to care about.
Except now we're twinned, and I, growing older, eighteen when this happened. Cared very much.
Which means now she cared too.
Jody and me never made it close to sex. We hugged, kissed, felt each others breasts. Given time we would've taken the plunge. Naked. Laying together in my narrow bed. Most likely fumbling and with any luck laughing away those first time nerves.
But, there was no Jody.
And I missed, still do miss, her, at first like an ache, like a loss. But the passage of time heals, somewhat, so now the ache is occasional, a thing I attempt to banish whenever it looms.
What helps is: Jody knew, knows, how to contact me. There is, no matter where I am in the wide world, one very simple method of calling us to her side.
Because whilst the original mirror and gagged words is no longer a binding summons, the Rope Bunny can still hear it.
And we'd know- because the smallest faintest part of that connection, once growing between us, still remains, like a personal ident calling card -it was her.
The fact she hasn't says it all.
So.
Moving on.
Eighteen, two years spent wandering, and there had been chances, offers, but I wasn't ready.
But, eighteen, new breasts- which I definitely didnt do to impress Jody, honest -healed, it was time.
Boy or girl though?
I'd never dated before Jody, so, did I like boys? It's this question that made my mind up. I needed, wanted, to find out. Jody just sort of happened, she'd been harbouring a thing, a secret crush, on me for some time. One thing led to another- I'm not going to tell, it's a long story -and she basically got her wish. She got me.
But. Given the chance, would I date a boy?
Or, not date, not back a year and change ago when this all went down, and not now. I'm still wandering, still not ready to either go home or settle. I don't want to be tied- ha, of course that I always want -to a person or place.
Except for h-
Stop it.
Basically. I needed to find someone to fuck. Crude, prehaps, but true.
The thought, I remember, gave me nervous yet happy dancing butterflies.
I found the fetish event quite by accident. A flyer, one small sheet of colourful paper, left in the hotel room by a previous guest. I, we, pondered it, an idea forming, a smile growing on my lips.
Her lips.
Yes.
That could work.
Because despite the Bunny never having actually slept with anyone, her confidence easily eclipses my own. So, she can step out, go to the event, prowl around and snare us both a willing young man.
Tim.
Except, because now my nerves were, are still, her nerves, by the time we're back at his flat her skin feels too tight, too hot. She wants out, but, to change would likely freak Tim out, and then I'd of had to start all over again.
So we fell back on familiar territory, binding myself to Tim's bed, something- his wide eyes and smile -that he clearly approved of.
And when, laying atop me, thrusting gently, caring enough to not just plunge in and treat it like a race. When I did change, my nakedness- because I hadn't worn clothes when the Bunny stepped forward in my hotel room -replacing her fur.
Tim was either too into it to stop, or simply in the moment, fucking the Rope Bunny, he didn't care.
There was no happy ending, for me. Pleasure, tingles, but no explosion. Not his fault, I was such a tightly balled up bundle of worry, no hope or chance of relaxing fully into it. Of letting go.
But, now, next time and every time, I'll be less nervous. Boy or girl- because it was at least good enough to show me I could swing either way -I'll enjoy it more.
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 285
- Joined: 1 year ago
A good bit of 'setup', things falling into place... A chance meeting, but it seems one that is likely to bear fruit.
I really liked the telling the other side of the story of her one-night stand. Context, insight, plus it was just amusing, in her usual awkward inexperienced way.
And of course the irony of having the books, but being unable to decipher them... Well I suspect Libby might end up being able to help her in some way (would be a strange thing to mention if it never comes up again!). Perhaps not directly, but more in the sense of pointing her in the right direction.
Or not.
I really liked the telling the other side of the story of her one-night stand. Context, insight, plus it was just amusing, in her usual awkward inexperienced way.
And of course the irony of having the books, but being unable to decipher them... Well I suspect Libby might end up being able to help her in some way (would be a strange thing to mention if it never comes up again!). Perhaps not directly, but more in the sense of pointing her in the right direction.
Or not.
I'm glad you liked it, probably could've dome something far more detailed but I think it worked well as is.BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑9 months ago I really liked the telling the other side of the story of her one-night stand. Context, insight, plus it was just amusing, in her usual awkward inexperienced way.
Phone call 001.
"How is she?"
"Hi. Chelle. It's been awhile, how are you?"
"Yeah okay. Hiiiii Chelle." Been awhile blah blah."
"How is she?"
"You do realise you could find out for yourself right?"
"Yeah. But."
"You do have her email."
"Um...."
"Really??? Love of your life and you lost the only way of contacting her???"
"Um...."
"Chelle.... Um. I don't suppose you...?"
"Sure. It's imadeamistake at stupidgirl dot please dot imsorry."
"Ha ha. Seriously though."
"Sure. Honestly. I'll message it over."
"And. She's fine."
"Yeah?"
"Wow. Hope and disappointment all in the same word."
"But is she...."
"Is she what? Got someone to cuddle when the nights turn cold, ten someone's, a complete wreck, looking even cuter now she's all grown up, isn't even the rabbit?"
"Well...."
"She's. Fine."
"How is she?"
"Hi. Chelle. It's been awhile, how are you?"
"Yeah okay. Hiiiii Chelle." Been awhile blah blah."
"How is she?"
"You do realise you could find out for yourself right?"
"Yeah. But."
"You do have her email."
"Um...."
"Really??? Love of your life and you lost the only way of contacting her???"
"Um...."
"Chelle.... Um. I don't suppose you...?"
"Sure. It's imadeamistake at stupidgirl dot please dot imsorry."
"Ha ha. Seriously though."
"Sure. Honestly. I'll message it over."
"And. She's fine."
"Yeah?"
"Wow. Hope and disappointment all in the same word."
"But is she...."
"Is she what? Got someone to cuddle when the nights turn cold, ten someone's, a complete wreck, looking even cuter now she's all grown up, isn't even the rabbit?"
"Well...."
"She's. Fine."
003.
Kayley.
I know what hero worship is. I can see the way she's been looking at me, the break in her voice when we talked about the past, my rescue of her.
So, I know what this, Libby wanting me, most likely is.
At least in part.
Some kind of fantasy made real, her head taking and twisting the events of before: saved from bad men by a young girl who happens to be a magic bunny too, a girl who got near fatally wounded in the act.
And now, here I am. In the flesh and fur.
Probably? She won't want to sleep with me a second time, once she's lived this out. Which is fine. Truly. She's cute, definitely, and cuter still hogtied, but I really didn't come here hoping for sex, or playtime.
So whatever she wants is fine with us.
"Is." Pulling back, slight frown as she looks down at me from sitting on my lap, hand through her short black hair. "This okay?"
In response the Bunny, not coming forwards yet still punching the controls, grins. Reaches down to grasp the hem of my dress, lifting, pulling the clinging material up and over my head, tossing it aside.
F cups bouncing as she sets them free.
Libby, eyes wide, licks her lips. A moments pause and then she pulls her yellow football shirt up and off, revealing no bra, small breasts sitting high on her skinny frame, dark nipples like small dangerous weapons, pointy.
Reaching up I stroke her hair, she smiles down at me, leans in.
More kissing, her hands either side of me, my own running and trailing nails up and down her back, keeping her close.
"Let me." Slightly breathless, pulling away. "Please. I want to lock you up."
Lock.
Not tie.
Which sounds interesting.
I nod, smiling, arching up off the sofa to kiss her again, showing willing.
Standing, Libby uses the move to pull my thong down and off, revealing my trimmed pussy. She holds out a hand, helping me up.
Leading me to her bedroom.
Naked, I climb up onto her bed, lay down on my belly. Assuming and guessing that's how she'll want me.
Clank of something metal behind me, I smile, don't turn around.
"Stay still." Voice soft, quiet, and yet a slight commanding edge. I feel the mattress shift as Libby climbs up behind me.
Something cold pressed and resting against my back from neck to butt.
A pole?
Which it must be, because Libby, crawling on her knees, moving a circle around me, locks me to it.
Hoops. Circles of metal that must be welded to the pole, that hinge open and lock closed with a bolt she tightens not a key. Around my neck, my arms pinned either side of the pole behind me at wrist and elbow. My legs secured at knee and ankle, the pole clearly running my full length.
And all the hoops feel very snug, very size eight small, each one Libby closes making my heart beat faster, my breathing shallower.
"There." Flopping down beside me on her side, grinning. "Now I've caught you."
"...."
Speechless. I've never, not in all the fifteen year old me games nor in dozens of Rope Bunny encounters, I've never felt so securely held. I've never felt so helpless.
With an effort I roll onto my side facing Libby, who shuffles closer.
"You get one kiss." Producing a black ballgag from, somewhere? Rolling it back and forth across my breast. Her voice still has that slight edge. "And then I'm shutting you up."
"Yes." My own voice sounds faint, I can feel my pussy throb in.
Excitement?
At being taken charge of?
"Do you." Bringing her head closer, repeating my earlier trick of blowing into my mouth. "Want a last kiss?"
"Yes."
"Then." Lifting the ball and placing it against my lips. I moan but am too spellbound to pull away. Libby drops the gag. "Ask."
"Please." Squriming, my body barely moving inside the strict metal bondage. I lick my lips, push my chest out at Libby.
"Please. May I have a kiss."
Libby, showing an evil streak I'd not of credited, jams the ball unexpectedly into my half open, waiting, mouth, buckling it quickly and tightly around the back of my head.
"Of course." Licking across the gag, her tongue catching my top lip. "Here."
Leaning in she proceeds to make out with my gagged mouth, running her hands all over my body as she does, squeezing my breasts, rubbing and gently pinching my nipples.
And. Something. Somewhere a long way away. Feels wrong.
But. The Bunny looking at me, shrugging, wh-
Libby, her finger brushing across my clit, and suddenly all thought vanishes from my head.
I lose track of time. The pole and hoops ridged to the point I can't move, can't shift position. I'm stuck, held tight my breasts thrust out in front, large and rounded. My pussy similarly exposed.
Libby, somewhat of an expert it seems, easily walks me up and diving through an orgasm, followed shortly after by a second.
Her phone buzzes.
She stops, sliding back and climbing off the bed.
Walks out the room. Leaving me.
Though I'm too spent, too zoned out, to really notice. To really care or register any alarm at potentially being abandoned.
And.
Suddenly.
There are four strangers, dark skinned Asian looking men in jeans and open necked shirts surrounding the bed.
I scream through my gag, reaching down, pure instinct, for the Bunny.
Finding a barrier of some kind between us?
The metal hoops. As if responding to some unknown cue, as though my reaching for the Bunny had activated something I wasn't aware could be turned on. Suddenly feel hotter, tighter, each one shrinking until it slightly pinches the limb.
Except for my neck, which stops just short of actually choking me, though is now tight enough to induce panic.
The gag changes too. Staying rounded outside, in my mouth it elongates, lengthening, becoming cock like as it burrows down into my throat, completely filling it up, preventing any sound escaping.
Forcing me to breathe through my nostrils.
I struggle and wriggle despite the tightening restraints. Fighting.
Hopeless.
Banging imagined fists on the glass barrier, seeing the Bunny trapped below as if under ice, her own fists making small cracks but nowhere near enough to escape.
I fall back, stilling, exhausted.
Discover the men have placed a wooden crate, almost exactly my size and no larger, atop the bed.
A name, familiar, swimming up from deep memory, stamped to the side of the crate.
Sudden itching in my shoulder and bicep.
Effortlessly they lift, moving and lowering me inside. I hear the pole clicking and locking into place, my body suspended a couple of inches above the crates wooden floor nipples not quite brushing the rough wood.
Footsteps. Turning my head I see, just about, Libby walk in.
Handing my backpack and boots, my hat, over to one guy she.
What the fuck?
Reaches out to embrace another, kissing him with real passion as he kisses her back.
Talking, both Libby and this stranger she clearly knows on some intimate level, both speaking a language I don't know. One the Bunny no doubt could translate, if we weren't forcibly separated.
I hear Ted's name.
The Asians laugh, nod.
Libby gestures at me, they laugh some more. She smiles.
Comes closer, climbing up beside me, leaning in.
I stiffen, the useless urge and energy to fight flooding my system. But I'm trapped, helpless.
"Edward taught me." Musing smile on her lips. "Some stuff." A shrug, reaching down to stroke my naked butt. "This though," the stroke becomes a slap, I whimper, "is all me."
"Took a fucking week to etch that pole and gag." I look up at her, with my eyes. She's grinning. Proud. "Trust me. Bunny." Another hard slap on my butt cheek. "You won't be getting out."
A cheeky wave, a final shared kiss with the same Asian man, the leader? And she's gone.
They close the lid, nailing wood against wood, each tap or bang shaking or creaking the crate as I'm sealed in.
Packed away for safe transport.
Kayley.
I know what hero worship is. I can see the way she's been looking at me, the break in her voice when we talked about the past, my rescue of her.
So, I know what this, Libby wanting me, most likely is.
At least in part.
Some kind of fantasy made real, her head taking and twisting the events of before: saved from bad men by a young girl who happens to be a magic bunny too, a girl who got near fatally wounded in the act.
And now, here I am. In the flesh and fur.
Probably? She won't want to sleep with me a second time, once she's lived this out. Which is fine. Truly. She's cute, definitely, and cuter still hogtied, but I really didn't come here hoping for sex, or playtime.
So whatever she wants is fine with us.
"Is." Pulling back, slight frown as she looks down at me from sitting on my lap, hand through her short black hair. "This okay?"
In response the Bunny, not coming forwards yet still punching the controls, grins. Reaches down to grasp the hem of my dress, lifting, pulling the clinging material up and over my head, tossing it aside.
F cups bouncing as she sets them free.
Libby, eyes wide, licks her lips. A moments pause and then she pulls her yellow football shirt up and off, revealing no bra, small breasts sitting high on her skinny frame, dark nipples like small dangerous weapons, pointy.
Reaching up I stroke her hair, she smiles down at me, leans in.
More kissing, her hands either side of me, my own running and trailing nails up and down her back, keeping her close.
"Let me." Slightly breathless, pulling away. "Please. I want to lock you up."
Lock.
Not tie.
Which sounds interesting.
I nod, smiling, arching up off the sofa to kiss her again, showing willing.
Standing, Libby uses the move to pull my thong down and off, revealing my trimmed pussy. She holds out a hand, helping me up.
Leading me to her bedroom.
Naked, I climb up onto her bed, lay down on my belly. Assuming and guessing that's how she'll want me.
Clank of something metal behind me, I smile, don't turn around.
"Stay still." Voice soft, quiet, and yet a slight commanding edge. I feel the mattress shift as Libby climbs up behind me.
Something cold pressed and resting against my back from neck to butt.
A pole?
Which it must be, because Libby, crawling on her knees, moving a circle around me, locks me to it.
Hoops. Circles of metal that must be welded to the pole, that hinge open and lock closed with a bolt she tightens not a key. Around my neck, my arms pinned either side of the pole behind me at wrist and elbow. My legs secured at knee and ankle, the pole clearly running my full length.
And all the hoops feel very snug, very size eight small, each one Libby closes making my heart beat faster, my breathing shallower.
"There." Flopping down beside me on her side, grinning. "Now I've caught you."
"...."
Speechless. I've never, not in all the fifteen year old me games nor in dozens of Rope Bunny encounters, I've never felt so securely held. I've never felt so helpless.
With an effort I roll onto my side facing Libby, who shuffles closer.
"You get one kiss." Producing a black ballgag from, somewhere? Rolling it back and forth across my breast. Her voice still has that slight edge. "And then I'm shutting you up."
"Yes." My own voice sounds faint, I can feel my pussy throb in.
Excitement?
At being taken charge of?
"Do you." Bringing her head closer, repeating my earlier trick of blowing into my mouth. "Want a last kiss?"
"Yes."
"Then." Lifting the ball and placing it against my lips. I moan but am too spellbound to pull away. Libby drops the gag. "Ask."
"Please." Squriming, my body barely moving inside the strict metal bondage. I lick my lips, push my chest out at Libby.
"Please. May I have a kiss."
Libby, showing an evil streak I'd not of credited, jams the ball unexpectedly into my half open, waiting, mouth, buckling it quickly and tightly around the back of my head.
"Of course." Licking across the gag, her tongue catching my top lip. "Here."
Leaning in she proceeds to make out with my gagged mouth, running her hands all over my body as she does, squeezing my breasts, rubbing and gently pinching my nipples.
And. Something. Somewhere a long way away. Feels wrong.
But. The Bunny looking at me, shrugging, wh-
Libby, her finger brushing across my clit, and suddenly all thought vanishes from my head.
I lose track of time. The pole and hoops ridged to the point I can't move, can't shift position. I'm stuck, held tight my breasts thrust out in front, large and rounded. My pussy similarly exposed.
Libby, somewhat of an expert it seems, easily walks me up and diving through an orgasm, followed shortly after by a second.
Her phone buzzes.
She stops, sliding back and climbing off the bed.
Walks out the room. Leaving me.
Though I'm too spent, too zoned out, to really notice. To really care or register any alarm at potentially being abandoned.
And.
Suddenly.
There are four strangers, dark skinned Asian looking men in jeans and open necked shirts surrounding the bed.
I scream through my gag, reaching down, pure instinct, for the Bunny.
Finding a barrier of some kind between us?
The metal hoops. As if responding to some unknown cue, as though my reaching for the Bunny had activated something I wasn't aware could be turned on. Suddenly feel hotter, tighter, each one shrinking until it slightly pinches the limb.
Except for my neck, which stops just short of actually choking me, though is now tight enough to induce panic.
The gag changes too. Staying rounded outside, in my mouth it elongates, lengthening, becoming cock like as it burrows down into my throat, completely filling it up, preventing any sound escaping.
Forcing me to breathe through my nostrils.
I struggle and wriggle despite the tightening restraints. Fighting.
Hopeless.
Banging imagined fists on the glass barrier, seeing the Bunny trapped below as if under ice, her own fists making small cracks but nowhere near enough to escape.
I fall back, stilling, exhausted.
Discover the men have placed a wooden crate, almost exactly my size and no larger, atop the bed.
A name, familiar, swimming up from deep memory, stamped to the side of the crate.
Sudden itching in my shoulder and bicep.
Effortlessly they lift, moving and lowering me inside. I hear the pole clicking and locking into place, my body suspended a couple of inches above the crates wooden floor nipples not quite brushing the rough wood.
Footsteps. Turning my head I see, just about, Libby walk in.
Handing my backpack and boots, my hat, over to one guy she.
What the fuck?
Reaches out to embrace another, kissing him with real passion as he kisses her back.
Talking, both Libby and this stranger she clearly knows on some intimate level, both speaking a language I don't know. One the Bunny no doubt could translate, if we weren't forcibly separated.
I hear Ted's name.
The Asians laugh, nod.
Libby gestures at me, they laugh some more. She smiles.
Comes closer, climbing up beside me, leaning in.
I stiffen, the useless urge and energy to fight flooding my system. But I'm trapped, helpless.
"Edward taught me." Musing smile on her lips. "Some stuff." A shrug, reaching down to stroke my naked butt. "This though," the stroke becomes a slap, I whimper, "is all me."
"Took a fucking week to etch that pole and gag." I look up at her, with my eyes. She's grinning. Proud. "Trust me. Bunny." Another hard slap on my butt cheek. "You won't be getting out."
A cheeky wave, a final shared kiss with the same Asian man, the leader? And she's gone.
They close the lid, nailing wood against wood, each tap or bang shaking or creaking the crate as I'm sealed in.
Packed away for safe transport.
An interesting twist going on, one I wanted to point out.
To show how others (I mean you, the readers) and myself can influence a story in progress.
Your dropped comment regarding Jody, who wasn't going to be any more then a recurring flashback.
Not any more
And.
However, halfway through and I had the idea, liked it, so now off we go in a new (fun?) and unintended direction.
Thanks everyone for reading.
To show how others (I mean you, the readers) and myself can influence a story in progress.
This short chapter, and it's no spoilers to point our it won't be the last along such lines, came about purely due to [mention]Switchgirl[/mention]
Your dropped comment regarding Jody, who wasn't going to be any more then a recurring flashback.
Not any more
And.
This chapter wasn't intended to be anything more then a non stop bondage and sex fest, fun times between Kayley and Libby.
However, halfway through and I had the idea, liked it, so now off we go in a new (fun?) and unintended direction.
Thanks everyone for reading.
-
Switchgirl
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 46
- Joined: 1 year ago
I love waiting and reading a few chapters at once. You write like we’re watching a movie - flashbacks, cut to different characters…etc
I’m loving the twists and turns of the new story. And on a personal note - pleased to be inspiring you (albeit in a minor way!!)
I’m loving the twists and turns of the new story. And on a personal note - pleased to be inspiring you (albeit in a minor way!!)
Something of a new style/idea for me, sometimes I'm still just posting the one, but sometimes it fits and makes sense to post multiples.
Sometimes it's down to the TUG content. This is a TUGs board for TUGs stories, so I'm wary of posting too much without any tie ups.
But I'm enjoying writing the chopping and changing, the flashbacks and explaining from multiple angles.
When it's needed, or works.
I would say not so minorSwitchgirl wrote: ↑9 months ago And on a personal note - pleased to be inspiring you (albeit in a minor way!!)
Jody has, because I read what you said you'd like to see, and thought about it, and saw a way and liked it, now been moved from Kayley's flashbacks into a more prominent position. Which sort of changes the overall plan I had in place.
I only hope you'll enjoy/like it when and if (but most likely when
) her and Kayley have themselves a confrontation.It's nice to get suggestions, from any of you. Can't promise to do or include them, but, there's no harm in asking.
We continue below....
Last edited by RopeBunny 9 months ago, edited 1 time in total.
Lost Time/Separation.
Darkness.
And time, stretching. Blurring. Losing all meaning.
I wait to feel hungry, or thirsty. I don't, nor does the urge to pee surface.
I feel hot: the stuffy close confines of the crate. And at other times I feel cold, but neither, ever, to a point where damage could be caused.
Time. Passing. Unable to talk, to move, all too aware of things going on around me.
Nothing for company save my thoughts, a dull coming/going ache, missing the Bunny.
Going slowly, piece by small piece day by hour.
In. Sane.
Stockholm. Not the city the word, a name. A name for Libby now so clearly fallen. Falling, for the man who kidnapped her.
Will they marry?
Will she stand back and watch, help? As he tears and rips Edward's company apart.
Stockholm. Or, is the connection older? In this online world upon world's inside worlds and more worlds unseen and.
Sorry.
Had they met, in some fashion, before? Was the 'kidnapping.'
And I am doing the air quotes. Promise.
I can still move my fingers. Fuck all else, but, at least I've got that.
Oh.
And my toes.
Possibly.
Do my breasts, if I shake and my shake makes them shake, does that count?
Sorry. Distracted. Easy to lose track of time and thought and time and.
Sorry.
Was it staged, part of a plan that Libby helped create?
And, do I care? Can I care when I can't even care for myself right now?
Stuck in metal hoops to a metal pole in a wooden crate.
Bouncing and descending, a sudden blast of fresh air and noise. Traffic. People.
Bump and slide, coming to rest.
Motion like travelling, tilt of corners, roar of an engine working hard. Stop start stop start stop stop stop I want to.
Sorry.
Moved again. Long periods of nothing followed by a single jerking period of motion.
Smell of the sea.
And, for the longest time, the up down up rocking of a ship through water.
Of course I try, tried, to fight. I am- was -the Rope Bunny.
Was? Please but no, don't take her away, from me.
Please.
In fits and starts, in bursts whenever I remember- sounds funny, that I could forget the crate and the metal restraints, but, time passes, the mind drifts and wanders, plays tricks, and you forget you aren't free -I fight, and strain my nineteen year old just a girl.
No more Bunny.
Muscles. I sweat and I curse through the cock like gag filling up my throat. I get angry, then sad, mad and depressed and worried and nervous.
Scared.
Where and why, and what happens next?
And who and how and when and when and why and where am I and I don't know and I miss miss miss and why and whenwherehowwhowhat....
Sorry.
Breathe. Kayley.
Breathe.
The rocking.
What ocean are we even on? It has to be an ocean, I've felt and smelled the waves- muffled, but, can't mistake that blast of salt and water and fresh gusting air -for far far far way too long for this to be a humble river. Or lake.
Isn't. Digging up school, what seems a million years ago now. Geography with the old but wise and pleasant Mr Rigsby. Isn't there some kind of man made waterway through Panama?
Would I even know if we used it?
The rocking calms me, helps.
But.
Of course I try, tried, to fight. I am- was -the Rope Bunny.
Was? Please but no, don't take her away, from me.
Please.
In fits and starts, in bursts whenever I remember- sounds funny, that I could forget the crate and the metal restraints, but, time passes, the mind drifts and wanders, plays tricks, and you forget you aren't free -I fight, and strain my nineteen year old just a girl.
No more Bunny.
Muscles. I sweat and I curse through the cock like gag filling up my throat. I get angry, then sad, mad and depressed and worried and nervous.
Scared.
Where are we going?
And.
What happens to me when we arrive?
Darkness.
And time, stretching. Blurring. Losing all meaning.
I wait to feel hungry, or thirsty. I don't, nor does the urge to pee surface.
I feel hot: the stuffy close confines of the crate. And at other times I feel cold, but neither, ever, to a point where damage could be caused.
Time. Passing. Unable to talk, to move, all too aware of things going on around me.
Nothing for company save my thoughts, a dull coming/going ache, missing the Bunny.
Going slowly, piece by small piece day by hour.
In. Sane.
Stockholm. Not the city the word, a name. A name for Libby now so clearly fallen. Falling, for the man who kidnapped her.
Will they marry?
Will she stand back and watch, help? As he tears and rips Edward's company apart.
Stockholm. Or, is the connection older? In this online world upon world's inside worlds and more worlds unseen and.
Sorry.
Had they met, in some fashion, before? Was the 'kidnapping.'
And I am doing the air quotes. Promise.
I can still move my fingers. Fuck all else, but, at least I've got that.
Oh.
And my toes.
Possibly.
Do my breasts, if I shake and my shake makes them shake, does that count?
Sorry. Distracted. Easy to lose track of time and thought and time and.
Sorry.
Was it staged, part of a plan that Libby helped create?
And, do I care? Can I care when I can't even care for myself right now?
Stuck in metal hoops to a metal pole in a wooden crate.
Bouncing and descending, a sudden blast of fresh air and noise. Traffic. People.
Bump and slide, coming to rest.
Motion like travelling, tilt of corners, roar of an engine working hard. Stop start stop start stop stop stop I want to.
Sorry.
Moved again. Long periods of nothing followed by a single jerking period of motion.
Smell of the sea.
And, for the longest time, the up down up rocking of a ship through water.
Of course I try, tried, to fight. I am- was -the Rope Bunny.
Was? Please but no, don't take her away, from me.
Please.
In fits and starts, in bursts whenever I remember- sounds funny, that I could forget the crate and the metal restraints, but, time passes, the mind drifts and wanders, plays tricks, and you forget you aren't free -I fight, and strain my nineteen year old just a girl.
No more Bunny.
Muscles. I sweat and I curse through the cock like gag filling up my throat. I get angry, then sad, mad and depressed and worried and nervous.
Scared.
Where and why, and what happens next?
And who and how and when and when and why and where am I and I don't know and I miss miss miss and why and whenwherehowwhowhat....
Sorry.
Breathe. Kayley.
Breathe.
The rocking.
What ocean are we even on? It has to be an ocean, I've felt and smelled the waves- muffled, but, can't mistake that blast of salt and water and fresh gusting air -for far far far way too long for this to be a humble river. Or lake.
Isn't. Digging up school, what seems a million years ago now. Geography with the old but wise and pleasant Mr Rigsby. Isn't there some kind of man made waterway through Panama?
Would I even know if we used it?
The rocking calms me, helps.
But.
Of course I try, tried, to fight. I am- was -the Rope Bunny.
Was? Please but no, don't take her away, from me.
Please.
In fits and starts, in bursts whenever I remember- sounds funny, that I could forget the crate and the metal restraints, but, time passes, the mind drifts and wanders, plays tricks, and you forget you aren't free -I fight, and strain my nineteen year old just a girl.
No more Bunny.
Muscles. I sweat and I curse through the cock like gag filling up my throat. I get angry, then sad, mad and depressed and worried and nervous.
Scared.
Where are we going?
And.
What happens to me when we arrive?
Separation/Lost Time.
Not again.
Not again.
Not again again again again.
I was free I was happy I was living and alive and I.
We.
I.
Kayley, she, we, I, was happy too.
And now to shut me lock me toss and throw me. To cast me back into the deep cold dark.
Alone.
Trapped, again.
I will.
I can't, but, I will.
I, Kayley and me, sometime, somewhen.
Our, my, we promise.
She, that olive skinned black haired smiling bitch.
I will- not kill her can't won't don't -make her pay.
Not again.
Not again.
Not again again again again.
I was free I was happy I was living and alive and I.
We.
I.
Kayley, she, we, I, was happy too.
And now to shut me lock me toss and throw me. To cast me back into the deep cold dark.
Alone.
Trapped, again.
I will.
I can't, but, I will.
I, Kayley and me, sometime, somewhen.
Our, my, we promise.
She, that olive skinned black haired smiling bitch.
I will- not kill her can't won't don't -make her pay.
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 285
- Joined: 1 year ago
Well, quite the twists and turns...
I *really* liked the way her bondage was described, especially when it intentionally began to repeat itself - in a situation like that you lose track of time, and in a situation where you are afraid, being trapped in your own mind with no ability to do anything can be the worst thing.
Quite dark (literally I suppose, but mostly figuratively), definitely quite shocking. I will admit the scene felt real enough that it actually bothered me a little, but I suppose there is not much point going further into that.
The 'betrayal' does raise a lot of questions however (and to be honest a lot of this is probably just the fact that you ended up changing the story after writing the previous parts).
It was quite the coincidence that Libby and Kayley met seemingly by accident. Now of course crazy coincidences happen all the time even in real life, and are certainly allowed in a fictional story for the sake of moving the plot forward, but the fact that it 'took her a week to etch' the spell implies that this was long planned, which seems contradictory. Did Libby somehow make this 'chance meeting' happen? Seems a bit of a stretch that she was so determined to get some kind of revenge that she just happened to keep everything ready just incase.
And speaking of revenge, I have to question Libby's motivations. Why bother? If she actually did want to marry the man, what was stopping her? Edward is dead (and at this point I have to suspect perhaps his death was not entirely natural...). Kayley was certainly not going to swoop in again to stop her. Why even seemingly blame the Bunny for being 'rescued' - she was just doing the job she was paid to do, and she had no real stake in the situation.
Plus if the marriage was willing, then why was Libby being held in bondage in a secure room surrounded by guards? Admittedly calling back the events of the previous story, but it is directly relevant. Even if it was some kind of a game, why all the guards?
So revenge seems to not make much sense - why go through all that trouble for someone who was not even the cause of your problems, but just the executor of someone else's will.
Which leaves another obvious possibility: Libby wants to somehow capture/control the Bunny for her own ends. Perhaps either control her directly, or somehow 'steal' the power from Kayley?
It was interesting that Ted was mentioned too. If the motivation really is revenge, then certainly he would be a target as well. Perhaps the two of them might be teaming up yet again... Perhaps he might even be playing a part in her (presumed) future escape.
Or another, far less likely but much darker possibility - she is being captured *for* Ted. This one makes less sense - why ship her across the ocean then? And besides, I suspect Ted has more then a little respect for her, after their little rescue mission together and how she literally risked her life for them - had she not 'gone in' herself, it was certainly possible Ted would have been the one who got shot, a fact I would assume he would be quite aware of.
Well, I think that is enough wild speculation on my part. Obviously will have to see what happens.
I will leave it off with:
Certainly quite prescient...
I *really* liked the way her bondage was described, especially when it intentionally began to repeat itself - in a situation like that you lose track of time, and in a situation where you are afraid, being trapped in your own mind with no ability to do anything can be the worst thing.
Quite dark (literally I suppose, but mostly figuratively), definitely quite shocking. I will admit the scene felt real enough that it actually bothered me a little, but I suppose there is not much point going further into that.
Quite an amusing little bit in what is a very strong section overall.Had they met, in some fashion, before? Was the 'kidnapping.'
And I am doing the air quotes. Promise.
I can still move my fingers. Fuck all else, but, at least I've got that.
The 'betrayal' does raise a lot of questions however (and to be honest a lot of this is probably just the fact that you ended up changing the story after writing the previous parts).
It was quite the coincidence that Libby and Kayley met seemingly by accident. Now of course crazy coincidences happen all the time even in real life, and are certainly allowed in a fictional story for the sake of moving the plot forward, but the fact that it 'took her a week to etch' the spell implies that this was long planned, which seems contradictory. Did Libby somehow make this 'chance meeting' happen? Seems a bit of a stretch that she was so determined to get some kind of revenge that she just happened to keep everything ready just incase.
And speaking of revenge, I have to question Libby's motivations. Why bother? If she actually did want to marry the man, what was stopping her? Edward is dead (and at this point I have to suspect perhaps his death was not entirely natural...). Kayley was certainly not going to swoop in again to stop her. Why even seemingly blame the Bunny for being 'rescued' - she was just doing the job she was paid to do, and she had no real stake in the situation.
Plus if the marriage was willing, then why was Libby being held in bondage in a secure room surrounded by guards? Admittedly calling back the events of the previous story, but it is directly relevant. Even if it was some kind of a game, why all the guards?
So revenge seems to not make much sense - why go through all that trouble for someone who was not even the cause of your problems, but just the executor of someone else's will.
Which leaves another obvious possibility: Libby wants to somehow capture/control the Bunny for her own ends. Perhaps either control her directly, or somehow 'steal' the power from Kayley?
It was interesting that Ted was mentioned too. If the motivation really is revenge, then certainly he would be a target as well. Perhaps the two of them might be teaming up yet again... Perhaps he might even be playing a part in her (presumed) future escape.
Or another, far less likely but much darker possibility - she is being captured *for* Ted. This one makes less sense - why ship her across the ocean then? And besides, I suspect Ted has more then a little respect for her, after their little rescue mission together and how she literally risked her life for them - had she not 'gone in' herself, it was certainly possible Ted would have been the one who got shot, a fact I would assume he would be quite aware of.
Well, I think that is enough wild speculation on my part. Obviously will have to see what happens.
I will leave it off with:
Indeed, I suspect the Rope Bunny has plenty of creative ways to get her revenge - if she gets the chance.
Pretty much.BlissfulMisery wrote: ↑9 months ago
a lot of this is probably just the fact that you ended up changing the story
Literally. I was writing, the plan being Libby gets tied, sex happens, Kayley leaves and most likely we never see Libby again.
But.
Me and my bondage obsessed brain
I had the sudden, I thought fun, idea of what you've now read.
But unfortunately I put not much thought, at the time, into the deeper why and what next.
Entirely my fault, getting carried away.
However, I have done this before, taken a hard turn and figured the rest out after. And, you'll be pleased to know I have.
Answers and explanations, sense, is coming.
Likely spread out over more then one chapter so be patient.
Please.
On other notes you're quite right, it was quite dark at times. Realistic I suppose, what happened to Kayley wasn't meant to be fun, and prehaps it is too dark.
But, I still like it.
Thanks for the comment
Phone call 002.
"So, I called her."
"Really, because, she doesn't have a phone?"
"No. Ha. I. 'Called' her."
"Oh."
"In which case I'll bet you wearing a gag, and I assume all dressed up, was quite the welcome?"
"Jody?"
"She didn't come."
"Ah. Shit."
"Yeah."
"Well. Remember she doesn't have to, not now. Remember?"
"I just. I thought she'd know it was me, and, despite everything I did, all that crap when we were kids."
"I just hoped...."
"Sooooo. Email her instead."
"But. She didn't come."
"Doesn't mean she doesn't care. She doesn't know who's calling when some random decides to tie on a gag and mumble."
"No?"
"How could she? Know."
"So. Try again, write her. You want to see her, don't you?"
"I do. But...."
"Stop being a little coward, write her."
"We both know you miss having someone to flash those tits at."
"Yes. Boss."
"Ha."
"So, I called her."
"Really, because, she doesn't have a phone?"
"No. Ha. I. 'Called' her."
"Oh."
"In which case I'll bet you wearing a gag, and I assume all dressed up, was quite the welcome?"
"Jody?"
"She didn't come."
"Ah. Shit."
"Yeah."
"Well. Remember she doesn't have to, not now. Remember?"
"I just. I thought she'd know it was me, and, despite everything I did, all that crap when we were kids."
"I just hoped...."
"Sooooo. Email her instead."
"But. She didn't come."
"Doesn't mean she doesn't care. She doesn't know who's calling when some random decides to tie on a gag and mumble."
"No?"
"How could she? Know."
"So. Try again, write her. You want to see her, don't you?"
"I do. But...."
"Stop being a little coward, write her."
"We both know you miss having someone to flash those tits at."
"Yes. Boss."
"Ha."
004.
Kayley.
A boom. Loud and echoing, like a bell being struck.
Or a ship. The ship. Docking?
Machinery clanging, people shouting. Nearer, then distant, coming and going.
Eventually, movement.
Up?
Down?
Hard to tell. My brain is fried, and though I can't sleep- did I mention that, not hungry, not thirsty, and oh by the way this magical amazing pole and gag will keep you flying high.
For. Ever.
My brain is fried through lack of stimuli. I've had only myself for company for days. Weeks? Unable to move yet feeling no pain, feeling nothing despite having spent the time locked and pinned into a harsh metal pole and hoops restraint.
Movement.
On and off, on. Sunlight filters, for the first time it feels like, through the cracks in the wooden planks that form my shipping crate.
Eventually.
I'm unpacked.
An office. Posh, and huge, and split into two distinct sides.
On one, over beside floor to ceiling windows, out of which I can see a cityscape from fairly high up, off to one side the docks, and beyond the rolling ocean. On this side is a large dark wooden desk, two bookcases filled with old books and thick files, a scattering of expensive looking decorations. An ornamental fern spreading and rising from a shiny black pot.
The other side resembles a conference room. Long rectangular table with curving ends and sides, like a squashed and elongated circle, the wood matches the desk. Arranged around the table are twelve chairs: five to a side and one each at the ends. Against one wall, opposite those windows which run along the rooms length too, is a small table covered in expensive glass decanters, each full of different coloured spirits.
I'm placed against the wall between bookcases and drinks table, roughly at the rooms halfway point.
Two burly men in shirts and black trousers lift my pole, me, easily out of the crate. The metal runs my length from neck to ankles, pressed against my back, between my butt cheeks. Off the pole sprout several metal hoops, each welded in place and locked by specially tightened bolts around me at: neck, elbows and wrists, knees and ankles. My legs and arms are both held apart, separated by the pole.
There's a gag too, black and cock shaped, filling up my mouth and throat to the point I'm forced to breathe through my nose.
There are, so some bitch told me but of course I can't see, etchings of a magical variety on both gag and pole. Symbols that have erected a wall, a glass like barrier, between me and the Rope Bunny.
So she, gloating, told me.
Flinging the Bunny back down into the deep box she was originally trapped inside, the box inside of me.
On the floor nestled up against the wall, at the rooms halfway point as I said, sits a large custom designed metal base. Eight legs spreading from a central jutting hollow pole.
Into which my pole is lowered. And no surprise it fits, snugly.
I'm now held in place, my body suspended off the ground by a half metre or so, tilted slightly forwards like a.
For fucks sake.
Like an old time ships figurehead.
Ignoring me the men shake and attempt to rattle the pole. Checking. Nothing moves, the connection between my pole and the floor base is solid. I'm going nowhere no matter how much I wriggle and attempt to topple myself and my bindings over.
I'm.
Stuck.
On display.
Naked, with my rounded canon like F cups thrust forwards, and my pussy conveniently not far off head height.
Nodding to each other, they collect up the crate and leave.
And this is the point, in a movie, that someone turns up. The bad guy, or girl. Maybe the bitch- Libby, so we're clear -herself. They appear, probably feel me up, tell me all about some dastardly master plan.
Blah and blah and blah.
Except nobody comes. Daylight becomes dusk becomes full dark and I'm still all alone.
Not in pain or discomfort, not tired, nor thirsty.
I mean, I'd kill for an ice cold beer, but, I don't need one.
I'd just really, somewhere in a list of a hundred things that would make my life better right now, a beer would be nice.
I spend the night alternating uselessly fighting the metal hoops and staring out the window, watching mass ranks of car taillights passing by on the road network far below.
I think, because fuck it why not, of Jody. Properly, for the first time in forever. I spend some time, and it kinda helps, running several scenarios of her being my captor. Like a game instead of the quite serious situation it is.
What might she do, with me?
Or, smiling around my cock gag, prehaps she's the one locked up here. And what am I going to do with her?
Time passes and darkness becomes the dawn becomes the day.
And in they come.
An older man, Asian, skinny and slight with close cropped greying hair. Followed by Libby's future husband, and the family resemblance is there, so, the old man and his heir then.
I can't understand a word they say. Looking me over, smiling, the old man nodding. I'm not touched, yet, but they lean in several times for a closer look.
Seeming fascinated by my tattoo. Or prehaps it's the scaring underneath, which the ink doesn't conceal, isn't meant to conceal, which interests them?
The son leaves, the old man faces me, bows, then heads for his desk.
Working.
As the days roll by, I'm kept there, in the company office and boardroom. A kind of trophy I come to realise, to decide. I'm ignored, with very few exceptions I'm treated as an object and not a still living person.
People come, people go. Meetings are held and empires no doubt crushed or expanded depending on the old man's whim.
Throughout, no sign of the Rope Bunny. If, when, I go looking, swimming down towards that frosted glass barrier I don't see her. She's gone deep, far away to someplace I can't follow.
Unfortunately there's a large roman numeral stamped clock on the wall beside the door, which I can see, making it impossible not to mark the passing of yet more minutes and yet more hours.
Days might've, probably do, become weeks. I can't keep track. I try, but, halfway through day eight I become convinced its day ten. And by the time the sun rises on day nine, or eleven, I decide, am sure, its only day seven.
And still I try, at times, to escape. Wriggling and bouncing, always when I'm alone. I strain what muscles my human frame contains, I rock and struggle.
I remain tightly locked and gagged in place.
The bitch comes, to the room I'm decorating, three times.
Once with an entourage of suited men, a similar rank of lawyer types sit opposite, flanking the old man.
The second time it's just her, the future Mr bitch, and the old man.
The third, later that evening, she comes alone.
"I told you." Placing a small stepladder down in front of me, climbing it to bring her to my eye level. "You." Libby grins, reaches out to tap me on the nose. "Aren't getting out of that."
"Fffggmmmfff."
I want to be mad at her, angry, I want to set her world on fire then dance in the ashes. But she's come to me at a low moment, feeling sorry for myself. Down, depressed.
Seeing no end in sight.
No freedom.
And as though having her gloating, again, weren't humiliating enough Libby pulls a wand vibrator from her jeans back pocket, and spends the next hour forcing three orgasms out of me.
Sucking and slapping my nipples, licking my gag, using the wand and her fingers inside of me, hitting that sweet spot I can't ignore, can't stop my body responding to.
Done with me, she leaves without a word.
Closing the door.
And time continuous to pass, to march steadily onwards.
One night, musing, wandering inside my head, failing more and more to remain sane.
And isn't it a shame they trapped me, and not her. Because the barrier separates us, and.
Sinking, drifting, down down towards that frosted glass.
It doesn't remove the power from the Bunny, only removes her from me.
Below, blurred and distorted, I see my twin rising from below.
Except.
Landing on the barrier. Cold to the touch. And below/above my reflection stares back.
My reflection but, not. I stare down/up, the Bunny, who could be and is me, stares up/down.
We've lived so long inside and beside each other, so long sharing, there isn't any she and me and me and her.
No Kayley starts here and the Bunny ends there.
No join.
How can you separate across a line that no longer exists?
My/her/our eyes grow wide as the revelation hits: I'd believed Libby's words, and because I'd believed the Bunny had believed too.
We'd been fighting like a girl, powerless, so sure we couldn't do more.
When we should've been fighting like what we are.
The Rope Bunny.
Here.
Now.
Always.
With a crash loud enough to split the world the barrier shatters. We fall through, down and up, merging.
Tingle, inside and out lighting me up like a star gone nova. Like the first time I felt the Bunny's power, my power, leaking through.
Only more.
Brief instant of pain, a flash, a ripping sensation across my skin. All my skin, as though I'm turned inside out and back to front. Righted just as fast.
Think I might be sick.
With a thump I land sprawled on the thick carpeted floor.
Free.
Kayley.
A boom. Loud and echoing, like a bell being struck.
Or a ship. The ship. Docking?
Machinery clanging, people shouting. Nearer, then distant, coming and going.
Eventually, movement.
Up?
Down?
Hard to tell. My brain is fried, and though I can't sleep- did I mention that, not hungry, not thirsty, and oh by the way this magical amazing pole and gag will keep you flying high.
For. Ever.
My brain is fried through lack of stimuli. I've had only myself for company for days. Weeks? Unable to move yet feeling no pain, feeling nothing despite having spent the time locked and pinned into a harsh metal pole and hoops restraint.
Movement.
On and off, on. Sunlight filters, for the first time it feels like, through the cracks in the wooden planks that form my shipping crate.
Eventually.
I'm unpacked.
An office. Posh, and huge, and split into two distinct sides.
On one, over beside floor to ceiling windows, out of which I can see a cityscape from fairly high up, off to one side the docks, and beyond the rolling ocean. On this side is a large dark wooden desk, two bookcases filled with old books and thick files, a scattering of expensive looking decorations. An ornamental fern spreading and rising from a shiny black pot.
The other side resembles a conference room. Long rectangular table with curving ends and sides, like a squashed and elongated circle, the wood matches the desk. Arranged around the table are twelve chairs: five to a side and one each at the ends. Against one wall, opposite those windows which run along the rooms length too, is a small table covered in expensive glass decanters, each full of different coloured spirits.
I'm placed against the wall between bookcases and drinks table, roughly at the rooms halfway point.
Two burly men in shirts and black trousers lift my pole, me, easily out of the crate. The metal runs my length from neck to ankles, pressed against my back, between my butt cheeks. Off the pole sprout several metal hoops, each welded in place and locked by specially tightened bolts around me at: neck, elbows and wrists, knees and ankles. My legs and arms are both held apart, separated by the pole.
There's a gag too, black and cock shaped, filling up my mouth and throat to the point I'm forced to breathe through my nose.
There are, so some bitch told me but of course I can't see, etchings of a magical variety on both gag and pole. Symbols that have erected a wall, a glass like barrier, between me and the Rope Bunny.
So she, gloating, told me.
Flinging the Bunny back down into the deep box she was originally trapped inside, the box inside of me.
On the floor nestled up against the wall, at the rooms halfway point as I said, sits a large custom designed metal base. Eight legs spreading from a central jutting hollow pole.
Into which my pole is lowered. And no surprise it fits, snugly.
I'm now held in place, my body suspended off the ground by a half metre or so, tilted slightly forwards like a.
For fucks sake.
Like an old time ships figurehead.
Ignoring me the men shake and attempt to rattle the pole. Checking. Nothing moves, the connection between my pole and the floor base is solid. I'm going nowhere no matter how much I wriggle and attempt to topple myself and my bindings over.
I'm.
Stuck.
On display.
Naked, with my rounded canon like F cups thrust forwards, and my pussy conveniently not far off head height.
Nodding to each other, they collect up the crate and leave.
And this is the point, in a movie, that someone turns up. The bad guy, or girl. Maybe the bitch- Libby, so we're clear -herself. They appear, probably feel me up, tell me all about some dastardly master plan.
Blah and blah and blah.
Except nobody comes. Daylight becomes dusk becomes full dark and I'm still all alone.
Not in pain or discomfort, not tired, nor thirsty.
I mean, I'd kill for an ice cold beer, but, I don't need one.
I'd just really, somewhere in a list of a hundred things that would make my life better right now, a beer would be nice.
I spend the night alternating uselessly fighting the metal hoops and staring out the window, watching mass ranks of car taillights passing by on the road network far below.
I think, because fuck it why not, of Jody. Properly, for the first time in forever. I spend some time, and it kinda helps, running several scenarios of her being my captor. Like a game instead of the quite serious situation it is.
What might she do, with me?
Or, smiling around my cock gag, prehaps she's the one locked up here. And what am I going to do with her?
Time passes and darkness becomes the dawn becomes the day.
And in they come.
An older man, Asian, skinny and slight with close cropped greying hair. Followed by Libby's future husband, and the family resemblance is there, so, the old man and his heir then.
I can't understand a word they say. Looking me over, smiling, the old man nodding. I'm not touched, yet, but they lean in several times for a closer look.
Seeming fascinated by my tattoo. Or prehaps it's the scaring underneath, which the ink doesn't conceal, isn't meant to conceal, which interests them?
The son leaves, the old man faces me, bows, then heads for his desk.
Working.
As the days roll by, I'm kept there, in the company office and boardroom. A kind of trophy I come to realise, to decide. I'm ignored, with very few exceptions I'm treated as an object and not a still living person.
People come, people go. Meetings are held and empires no doubt crushed or expanded depending on the old man's whim.
Throughout, no sign of the Rope Bunny. If, when, I go looking, swimming down towards that frosted glass barrier I don't see her. She's gone deep, far away to someplace I can't follow.
Unfortunately there's a large roman numeral stamped clock on the wall beside the door, which I can see, making it impossible not to mark the passing of yet more minutes and yet more hours.
Days might've, probably do, become weeks. I can't keep track. I try, but, halfway through day eight I become convinced its day ten. And by the time the sun rises on day nine, or eleven, I decide, am sure, its only day seven.
And still I try, at times, to escape. Wriggling and bouncing, always when I'm alone. I strain what muscles my human frame contains, I rock and struggle.
I remain tightly locked and gagged in place.
The bitch comes, to the room I'm decorating, three times.
Once with an entourage of suited men, a similar rank of lawyer types sit opposite, flanking the old man.
The second time it's just her, the future Mr bitch, and the old man.
The third, later that evening, she comes alone.
"I told you." Placing a small stepladder down in front of me, climbing it to bring her to my eye level. "You." Libby grins, reaches out to tap me on the nose. "Aren't getting out of that."
"Fffggmmmfff."
I want to be mad at her, angry, I want to set her world on fire then dance in the ashes. But she's come to me at a low moment, feeling sorry for myself. Down, depressed.
Seeing no end in sight.
No freedom.
And as though having her gloating, again, weren't humiliating enough Libby pulls a wand vibrator from her jeans back pocket, and spends the next hour forcing three orgasms out of me.
Sucking and slapping my nipples, licking my gag, using the wand and her fingers inside of me, hitting that sweet spot I can't ignore, can't stop my body responding to.
Done with me, she leaves without a word.
Closing the door.
And time continuous to pass, to march steadily onwards.
One night, musing, wandering inside my head, failing more and more to remain sane.
And isn't it a shame they trapped me, and not her. Because the barrier separates us, and.
Sinking, drifting, down down towards that frosted glass.
It doesn't remove the power from the Bunny, only removes her from me.
Below, blurred and distorted, I see my twin rising from below.
Except.
Landing on the barrier. Cold to the touch. And below/above my reflection stares back.
My reflection but, not. I stare down/up, the Bunny, who could be and is me, stares up/down.
We've lived so long inside and beside each other, so long sharing, there isn't any she and me and me and her.
No Kayley starts here and the Bunny ends there.
No join.
How can you separate across a line that no longer exists?
My/her/our eyes grow wide as the revelation hits: I'd believed Libby's words, and because I'd believed the Bunny had believed too.
We'd been fighting like a girl, powerless, so sure we couldn't do more.
When we should've been fighting like what we are.
The Rope Bunny.
Here.
Now.
Always.
With a crash loud enough to split the world the barrier shatters. We fall through, down and up, merging.
Tingle, inside and out lighting me up like a star gone nova. Like the first time I felt the Bunny's power, my power, leaking through.
Only more.
Brief instant of pain, a flash, a ripping sensation across my skin. All my skin, as though I'm turned inside out and back to front. Righted just as fast.
Think I might be sick.
With a thump I land sprawled on the thick carpeted floor.
Free.
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 285
- Joined: 1 year ago
Quite the intense bondage experience for Kayley, playing what is a very garish office decoration. An interesting idea, but more/longer bondage then anyone would probably want to ever experience, to be honest.
I do like the use of the magical setting to create a scene that would otherwise be impossible in the 'real world'.
And it seems Kayley has fallen for one of the oldest psychological biases in the book - believing something is true because she is *afraid* that it might be true.
Fitting I suppose, for the magical setting.
Well she has 'figured it out'. And now the question is, what will she do with her newfound freedom - and exactly what type of revenge will she exact
And of course Jody is still 'lurking' in the background, pining away for lost love. Something to brighten up the very dark atmosphere in the last few chapters.
I do like the use of the magical setting to create a scene that would otherwise be impossible in the 'real world'.
And it seems Kayley has fallen for one of the oldest psychological biases in the book - believing something is true because she is *afraid* that it might be true.
Fitting I suppose, for the magical setting.
Well she has 'figured it out'. And now the question is, what will she do with her newfound freedom - and exactly what type of revenge will she exact
And of course Jody is still 'lurking' in the background, pining away for lost love. Something to brighten up the very dark atmosphere in the last few chapters.