Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

If I Could Change Your Mind

by Mila V

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© Copyright 2021 - Mila V - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; F/f; bond; blackmail; outdoors; rope; buttplug; gasmask; electro; gag; cane; spank; trick; reluct; XX

"Everyone has a secret life. Right?"

My friends look at me like I just ate a bug or something. For a few moments there's silence, interrupted only by the crackle of firewood. Then Lena bursts laughing and others follow, timidly and unsure.

"What?" I ask. I'm genuinely baffled by their reaction.

"Well," says Lena, looking around as if for support, "I suppose, everyone has some secrets that they would be reluctant to share. But I wouldn't call it 'a secret life'. You sound like a spy, and not a very good one. You almost blew your cover."

There's more laughter, less awkward this time. I keep my mouth shut. I should have kept it shut before, but it was booze talking, I guess.

I have had a secret life for a very long time, since I was a kid, basically. It was natural for me, to the point that I assumed everyone had some darker side, they just kept it a secret. I take it very seriously and I wasn't going to make mine the subject of the discussion, but I felt those people were friendly enough to mention its existence, at least when the flow of the conversation called for it. I guess I was wrong.

There's another round of dry red. I sip from my cup cautiously, aware of the way it might take over my tongue. The conversation moves on, my blurting out quickly forgotten. By almost everyone. Lena sits down next to me on a fallen tree trunk.

Some time ago, I considered her my best friend. For a few months we were really close, almost inseparable. But the last few years we kind of drifted away from each other. She travels a lot, out of town constantly, posting pics of exotic places on social media. I'm stuck here on an 8 to 17 job as a school teacher. We don't really have many common interests now.

"So, a secret life, eh?"

"Nevermind," I shrug. "Like you said, it's just a collection of some minor unsavoury bits and pieces. It would be an overstatement to call it 'a secret life'."

"I think there's more to it," she smiles over her cup. "I won't pry, but if you ever feel like talking about it, you know where to find me. I know how hard it can be to keep a major secret."

"Alright, alright, don't get all dramatic! I'll tell you! Every time I walk into a grocery store I pilfer some small item." I say in a hushed voice. "Like, extra radish or apricot. It's a silly habit, but it makes me feel good."

Lena looks at me quizzically.

"That's it? A petty shoplifting?"

"Yes, but it's systematic!"

She keeps silent. I look closely at her facial expression, but the fire is almost gone, it's dark, and I can't see if she bought it. I hope she did. It would be better for everyone if she thinks I'm just an insecure kleptomaniac.

"It's no big deal," she says at last. "They include it in the price anyway."

I relaxed a bit. It seems she bought it after all.

"I'm tired. Nighty, everyone!" she says, puts her cup down and walks to her tent.

I'm sitting by the embers, thinking. The concept of 'no secret life' is new for me. How does it feel to live transparently, not having to worry that parts of your private life become known to the wrong people? It's probably wonderful. It seems impossible to me, but strangely alluring. But there are people in my life who absolutely must be kept out of my 'secret compartment'.

Walking out of my flat, I bumped into my kid.

"Hi, Mike!" I pat him on the head. "Surprised you were out. Been playing with friends?"

"Grandma asked to help her set up some apps on her phone," he replied grumpily.

"And you did, I assume."


Mike is 10, but as modern kids usually are, he's well versed in the fine art of dealing with smartphones.

"Good job. But why didn't she ask me?"

"Mom, you're always busy."

It's true, I suppose. Between my work, household chores, daily workout and my other... hobbies... there's not much time left. I feel a stab of shame for not being the mother I should be. I reach out to hug Mike.

"Love you. I'll be back before sundown. Dinner's in the fridge."

"Where are you going?" he asks half-heartedly, not really expecting the answer.

"Um, hanging out with friends today. Just a couple of hours. I won't get back drunk, I promise," I smile and Mike smiles back. He knows I never get really drunk.

I drive to the woods. It's a short drive, my apartment building stands on the edge of one of the residential districts, I just need to cross two streets and presto - I'm driving among pine trees. I go deeper and deeper, cross a railway line, turn to some partially overgrown trail. Pines gave way to oaks some time ago. At last, I'm deep enough, there's no one here on weekdays except maybe some particularly adventurous cyclist. I park the car between the bushes just outside the trail, lock it up and continue on foot carrying all my stuff in a backpack.

That's a good place, a small clearing, surrounded with thickets on three sides. There's enough light at this time in the evening. First of all, I check mobile signal strength. It's not good, just a couple of bars, but it should be enough. I put up a wifi hotspot, turn on my remote-controlled lock, wait for it to connect, check if it works and hang it from a tree branch overhead. There's a multitool dangling from an eyelet of the lock.

I set up a tripod with a camera and point it to a spot on the ground where I plan to roll on.

I open Discord and, sure thing, he's online already.

"Hi, babe. Are you on schedule?"

"Hi. Yes, pretty much. Check if you can see my lock."

"Yes, it's online. Should I try it?"

"Why not?"

I reach with my cupped hand under the lock, it blinks a green LED and the multitool drops into my palm.

"Alright, it works. Turn it on again."

I insert the eyelet back inside with a soft click.

Time to get undressed. Once more, I look around and listen for any suspicious noise. There's none, just a rustle of trees and chirping of birds. I take off my shoes and strip quickly. I pick up the phone again.

"Right, I'm naked. Beginning the tie."

"Oh, I'd love to see you now! Are you sure a video call isn't an option?"

"Told you, no video. Stop pestering me about it."

"Can I make a voice call at least? I want to hear you grunt and moan :)"

I pause to think about it. The guy's in Germany, we most likely will never meet in person. He'd get no chance to put a voice to a real name. We've done that before, but never outdoors.

"I suppose, there's no harm in that. Alright, make a call, I'll leave it on speaker."

There was a rain recently, the forest floor is wet and cool under my feet. I put the phone down and empty my backpack: ropes, a gas mask without a filter, a condom and the star of the program for today - an expandable butt-plug. The thing's dreadful. I've designed and 3D-printed it myself, tried it out a couple of times in the less stressful environment of my bathroom. And I'm pretty sure I'll be begging for release in under 2 minutes.

I need to be able to free myself very fast, so it should be a relatively simple tie. A variation of hogtie will do. I sit in front of the camera, wrap a few coils of rope around my ankles, cinch them and tie the rope off leaving an end under half a meter long. I make a hangman's noose on it. Then I take another length of rope and make a simple belt around my waist, somewhat tighter than comfortable. I wrap another rope in a bundle just wide enough to put my both hands in and lay it aside for now. I put on the gas mask, it smells of rubber and stale sweat.

"Are you done yet?" booms the phone. I cuss, grab it and lower the volume.

"No! I'll tell you when."

"I hear you're wearing the mask already," he comments. I put the phone down again.

Now for the fun part. I take the condom, unpack it and roll it over the plug. I kneel, bend forward and insert the thing. Then I take a deep breath, grab the base with one hand and rotate the screw with another. One, two, three turns. The fourth one is problematic already. I can't complete the fifth, petals of the plug are clawing into my rectum, the need for going number two comes immediately. I tug at it, making sure it won't come out. Now I need to act fast, before I change my mind. I lay face down, fold my legs, pull the noose under my rope belt at the small of my back, grab the premeasured bundle of rope, put the noose around it, insert my hands into the coils and pull. The noose cinches the rope and now my wrists are trapped.

The intruder in my butt is giving me grief already. I try to reach it with my hands, but no, I can't. Gone are the days of sloppy ropework and early release. Now, if I tie myself up, I stay tied.

"I hear some commotion," mumbles the phone. "Are you tied up?"

"Yes!" I snap. "And I want out already!"

My voice is muffled by the gas mask.

"Oh, no, we can't have that. It's been, what, thirty seconds?"

"You have no idea how bad that thing is!"

I roll to my side, thrashing and grasping at my butt cheeks. My plug gets really uncomfortable really fast.

"How much time do you have till your backup release triggers?"

"Nghh. About thirty minutes..." a little white lie. Actually, the battery in my lock will last for about two hours. I feel my heart drop when I think about it.

"So, I assume you're ready to hold it for at least half an hour."

"Assume nothing! I assumed you weren't a dickhead, trusted you with my release, and look where it got me!"

"I can't see you, I can't be sure you're really in a serious distress. Start telling me how it feels."

I growl in frustration.

"For fuck's sake, Henning!"

"It's not your safeword. Calm down and tell me how it feels to have your ass stretched by the pear of anguish."

And he's right. Amazingly, I'm not ready to use my safeword.

"You can't imagine! Its petals are quite thin and they press really hard into soft tissue. It's like a claw there, tearing at my insides. And, ugh, I need to poop. I mean, I'm clean, but it's the reflex - when the body feels the walls of the rectum expand, it thinks it's potty time."

"It doesn't sound so bad. You're not in real danger, are you?"

I'm laying down on my side, dirty and bound, trying to relax. It's not easy when your asshole is open and every breath is a struggle with the gunked-up intake valve.

"No, I suppose not. But please, Henning, release me. It's unbearable. My ass is on fire! I'm not enjoying it!"

"I will right away if..."

"If what?"

"...if you promise to show me your face. I'm just curious. You've got a nice body, your face must be pretty too..."


The lock clicks and the multitool plops on a bed of dead leaves a couple of meters away from me. I start crawling.

"Oh, you're no fun! You didn't use your safeword when I zapped your nipples with electricity, and now look at you! Is it really that bad?"

"No, it isn't..." I squeezed through my set teeth.

I roll to my other side, grab the tool, switch out the blade and start slicing. It's trickier than movies lead you to believe, but I've got practice. I cut the rope holding my hands and feet together, the noose is undone and my hands are free in seconds. I reach for my butt and start turning the screw counter-clockwise. My ass can't wait to expel the plug, and it pops out after just a couple of turns. I exhale with relief and tear off the gas mask. It's been ten minutes, maybe, but it feels like my sweaty face hasn't felt a touch of wind for hours. I start untying my feet.

The pic set was a success. Who doesn't like a naked hogtie in the woods, right? People on the network expressed regret that the plug wasn't seen quite clearly, but showered it with likes anyway.

Henning put a like on it too, but didn't comment. I'm sort of grateful for that, despite still being angry at him for trying to break my incognito. I'm not proud of using my safeword as a trick to kill his joy. I shouldn't have done that. Then again, he shouldn't have asked to reveal my face. The rules were clear on that.

I scroll through my feed leisurely. Hundreds of pictures, mostly girls, mostly naked and bound in some way, some tortured. Among captions and stacks of comments, my eye trips over a longer post titled 'Time Bomb Challenge'. I skim over and then for some not quite clear reason read it carefully.

The message is long, verbosely depicting the joys and thrills of a possible total exposure. The gist of it - get a thumbdrive, put every bit of personal data you deem important on it: a photo of your ID, your home address, phone number etc, - make a video of yourself doing the most depraved thing you can think of and put it there also. And then hide the drive in some public place. For the next few months - or years - you will live in constant fear and arousal, imagining someone finding your time bomb and using that info for their nefarious ends.

"What a load of crap," I think to myself. "Who uses thumb drives now? Do they still make them?"

I reach for a shelf above my desk and scrabble about it. There should be a few old thumb drives... Ah, there it is! Now, hypothetically, what depraved shit would I put there?

Discord blams.

"Hi, babe :* You OK?"

"Hi, Henning. I'm fine, thanks."

"Just wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have pushed you. I know you must hide your face. This is the Way :)"

"Nevermind. I'm sorry I've safeworded on you. It wasn't necessary."

"I know you're a tough cookie, you can't be scared by some ass-stretching."

I grin at the blatant flattery.

"Shut up! Now, a question for you. What would you consider THE MOST depraved thing a girl can do to herself? Asking for a friend :)"

"Lol. Don't know. Piss drinking? Posing as a 'long pig'? Having sex with a donkey? All of the above at the same time? Why?"

I tell him. It's easy to talk about embarrassing things to a person who will never see your face.

"So, correct me if I'm wrong here. You were super-protective about your identity all that time, you refused to let me get a glimpse of your face, and now you're gonna expose yourself to God knows who?"

I practically feel him stiffen, and not in a good way.

"No, I'm not going to expose myself. I'm considering the possibility of taking part in a game. See the difference?"


"It's a small risk, negligible even. It's probably less risky than prancing around naked in the woods."

"But the stakes are higher."

"Yes, that's why I'm thinking about it."

The next reply comes after a significant delay.

"It's unfair. We have known each other for how many years, three, four? And you were so adamant about your face. And now all of a sudden some random schmuck gets a chance to see it along with all your personal info. I thought we were friends."

"We are! I'm sorry you feel betrayed. Look, I promise, if I decide to do it and someone gets hold of my thumb-drive (not gonna happen) I'll show you my face. Does it make you feel better?"

"I think it's wrong. But do as you must."

Great. I've done nothing yet, and this thing's ruining my life already. It's not a good idea.

The school staff meeting goes slow. I've done my report already, now I'm just sitting it out, waiting for other teachers to present theirs. Listening to a monotonous droning of a geography teacher, I start to doze off a little. Suddenly I'm yanked out of my half-asleep state by a vibration in my pocket. I pull out my phone sneakily, trying to not get caught by the deputy principal. It's a friend request in Discord, someone by the alias 'Zhdibedy'. I'm not expecting any, but what the hell, I can always unfriend them.

"Answer my voice call. Now." the DM demands.

"WTF? I can't right now, I'm in the middle of something! Do I know you?"

"The thing is - I know you... if you catch my drift. Make time, answer the call. You have 3 minutes."

They sent me a frame out of a video. The video, in fact. My face is cropped, but it's definitely me.

My drowsiness is gone, my heart is racing. I excuse myself and rush to the bathroom, followed by disapproving looks. I lock myself in a stall just as the phone starts ringing.

"What do you want from me?"

"You skip the pleasantries and go straight to the right kind of question. Good."

The voice is vaguely male of middle age, but it means nothing. I'm scared and pissed off at the same time.

"Get to the point!"

"Yell at me one more time, and it will be game over for you. Got it?"

"Yes. My question still stands," I say, somewhat less agitated.

"A sassy one, eh? You'd better watch your mouth, you don't know what I might consider overstepping."

I make an effort to not quip in return. He's right, at this point he knows about me much more than I know about him. I need to rectify that as soon as possible.

"Who are you? How may I call you? Are you into rape? Bondage? Torture?"

"Apparently, I take my incognito more seriously than you. We will never meet in person, you won't see my face, you don't need to know my name and even address me in any way. I'm into entertainment and you will provide it. You will be given a series of tasks to complete. I can't hope to surpass that video of yours, but I'll try to come close. You will be sending back some proof."

"So, you like to watch rather than participate."

"I like to not do time for blackmail and sex crimes."

Careful bastard.

"When will it end? If ever."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Eventually I'll get bored with you and we'll part ways."

"That's very vague."

"What can I say? Human passions are fickle. Now, your first task. Take off your top and snap me a pic of your boobs."

"Boobs, really? Are you twelve?"

"I'm twenty-one plus, rest assured. Now, boobs!"

He hangs up.

My hands are shaking. That's not how I imagined it. Ok, I didn't imagine it at all. I put the phone down and start unbuttoning my blouse. Buttons are slippery. At last, I manage to peel off the blouse and wiggle out of my bra. It's too late to be worried about modesty, but I pick the darkest corner for the shot anyway. I send it and he texts back almost immediately:

"Too dark and blurry. Do better."

Muttering obscenities, I turn to the light and make another pic.

"That'll do. Small-ish, but firm, just how I like them. I see tiles and some plumbing in the background. Are you in a bathroom?"


"Great. Strip down completely and make a full-frontal pic."

"Come on, man, I'm at work. People are waiting for me."

"Do it fast, then."

I do an exasperated eye roll and start to undo my belt. I pull off my skirt and panties, but leave the shoes on, reluctant to step on the floor in bare feet. I snap a pic of my torso.

"A trimmed bush, nice! Now show me those pretty feet of yours."

I hesitate.

"You mean bare feet?"

"Of course. I checked out your blog yesterday. Your little foot fetish was noted."

Why, why, why did I leave the link on that thumbdrive? I tear off some TP, wipe a patch on the floor big enough to stand on it, remove my shoes and take a shot.

"Good girl! From now on, when you receive a task, assume it should be done naked and barefoot. Now, lick the toilet."


"Get to it. I want to see your tongue on the bowl."

I kneel in front of the toilet and repeat the TP trick on the rim of the bowl in a futile attempt to make it clean. I wish I had brought some hand sanitizer with me.

The bathroom outer door bangs and heels clatter over the floor tiles. I freeze for a moment, but realize immediately that I must complete the task no matter what. I put my tongue to the bowl rim and take a pic just as some lady enters the other stall next to me.

"Great! You're off the hook for now. Get back to your boring life. I'll try to make your next task much more interesting."

I put on my clothes with trembling hands, step into my shoes and storm out of the bathroom. By now the meeting is over, I return to my class. I try to pick up my paperwork where I left it and fail hard. I can think of nothing but this blackmail situation. Is it what I want? Hard no. Am I enjoying it? N-no. Maybe in other circumstances, if he defined the terms properly, if he didn't start pushing me right away, if he didn't just yank me out of my 'boring life', if I had time to get in the mood... I want to get out, but I have no idea how. I sit at my desk, head propped up by hands. The hormonal rush is over, I'm not shaking anymore, but now I feel tears well up in my eyes. What have I done?

I open Discord again.

"Hi, Henning."

He replies in two minutes.

"Hi babe. Sup?"

"You were right, I shouldn't have done it."

"What are you talking about?"

As I said, it's easy to talk to him about embarrassing things. I tell him everything. I'm glad it's just texting, he can't hear me sobbing in self-pity.

"You're kidding me, right?"

":| See, I'm dead serious."

"Jeezuz! Go. To. The. Cops."

"I can't! You haven't seen that video. They would lock me up for 'porn distribution'! A school teacher with a kinky side - the scandal would be of biblical proportions! My mom would be devastated. My son would... I don't wanna think about it."

"Oh. Babe, I'm so sorry! I don't know... There should be some way to resolve it. Can you hire a PI to track him down?"

"And then what? Kill him? And then the PI? Because three's a crowd."

"I don't know. I've never been in that kind of situation, you know. And I don't know anyone who has."

"It's alright, I don't expect you to be an expert on dealing with blackmail. I just needed some help to set my thoughts straight. I was in shambles, but now I'm feeling a bit better. You're right, it can be resolved rationally."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I need to do it myself. Track him down, I mean."


"I'm not sure yet."

So, how do you catch a guy you know nothing about?

It's not totally accurate, though. I'm sitting in front of my PC in a small study set up in an enclosed balcony, scrolling through my blog stats. He said he visited it yesterday. There were about a hundred visitors that day. He couldn't be anonymous, he has to be registered to see more than a few latest posts. But I don't think he was a regular, he probably registered for the occasion. I cull all those, and now I'm left with just three candidates. I run whois on their IPs, and nothing, all of them point to some remote countries. He must have been using VPN or Tor. So, it's the dead end, mostly. Ok, I'm not sure what I would get out of his IP anyway. I already know he's local. I checked out all three blogs, they're empty. Typical for newbies and doesn't mean anything. I stare at the short list of nicknames. One of them is holding my life hostage. For a moment I considered contacting the site admin, explaining the situation, at least partially, and asking to check their activity. It could show some unusual obsession with me, but then again, it could show nothing, and I was reluctant to further increase the number of people involved.

I need more information. I need to provoke and confuse him, maybe he would make some mistakes. I sigh and start a voice call with 'Zhdibedy' again.

He picked up almost immediately, which can be either a good or a bad sign.

"Hi. I thought about our situation..."

"Did you chill down a little?"

"Yes. I'm ready for the next task. Tell me how I can please you."

"I'm pleased by your eagerness alone. But yes, there's room for improvement. I want you to get in touch with one of your female friends and arrange for her to dominate you."

That takes me by surprise.

"What? How... Are you out of your mind?"

"Watch your language, lady!"

"How do you think it will work? What friend are you talking about?"

"I prefer blondes, so, pick a blonde. I don't care how you do it, but by 21:00 tomorrow I want a video of you getting tied up and tortured by your blonde female friend."

"Do you realize that it would put her in exactly the same position as you? She'll be able to blackmail me."

There's some delay before his reply, I hear only soft buzzing in the feed. I start to hope I've managed to make him change his mind, but then he answers.

"That's why I told you to arrange it with your friend and not a random hooker, which would be simpler. Your friends care about you, they won't harm you... much. I'm sure she won't start blackmailing you."

"Oh, look who's grown a conscience! Why do you care?"

"Maybe I want to see an action with chemistry, not just mindless torture. Maybe I'm a pervert with a boner for friendly lezdom. Maybe I don't want a competition. Maybe I want to be your friend too. Take your pick."

"Making me lick a toilet bowl is not the best start of a friendship."

"Anywho, tomorrow by 21:00, blonde friend. You, tied and tortured. To make things interesting, I won't specify the exact torture method. Surprise me. The harder it will be this time, the easier your next task will be."

"Oh, really..."

He hangs up.

Fuck! The guy's a nutjob! And I thought for a moment I could rationalize with him.

Alright, what do I do now? I have two blonde friends I can think of.

Annie, my former co-worker, married, mother of two. She quit her job a year ago, but we're still pretty close. She's sort of plain-looking, but smart, funny and easy-going. Furthermore, she would be my first choice for an ersatz domme, because she's hopelessly vanilla. She knows nothing about kink, she would be scared to hurt me, but she's a good friend and will do anything to get me out of trouble. It's not too late to call her.


"Hi, Annie! I didn't wake you up, I hope."

"No, sweetie, it's alright. How are you?"

"You know, this and that... I was thinking, maybe we could meet tomorrow evening?"

"Oh, I'd love to! But I'll be out of the city."

"What? Where are you going?"

"To Romania! Lena has a bus tour booked, but she won't be able to go, so I'll be going instead. Exciting!"

"Indeed! Meet you when you get back."

"Prepare your ear to be talked off."

We bid our farewells and she hangs up.

Lena. She's blonde and she's still a friend, I suppose. Her appearance is brighter, but she wouldn't be my first choice for a top. She's a bit too... volatile for that. She doesn't pick up her phone, so I text her.

"Hi! So, Romania?"

I wait for an answer for about ten long minutes, wondering what would I do if Lena happens to be unavailable too. I'm about to start browsing online shops for a blonde wig, when she texts back at last.

"Hola! No, I'm not going, got urgent business here. Why?"

"Can we meet tomorrow evening? I need to discuss something with you."

"What, did my kid misbehave or something? :)"

She doesn't have kids. Another time I'd gladly keep up a ball, but now I'm too tense for idle jokes.

":) It's about my secret life."

"Oh, you know how to pique my interest! Alright, I'll be available after 6. Your place or mine?"

"Yours will be more convenient."

"Like that?"

"No, stop, you're making it too tight!"


"Leave the coils loose, so when you cinch the rope it would be snug, but not too much. See, my hand's turning blue already."

I'm a bit concerned about Lena's zeal. Blushing and stuttering, I mumbled through my story. She took it in a surprisingly chill way, said that she suspected something like that and I shouldn't be worried. She claimed not having actual experience besides watching some kinky porn, and her inept actions corroborate that. But she learns fast.

I'm bent over the back of a chair, my ass in the air. There are a couple of towels thrown over the upper bar, but they don't help much - it's still uncomfortable. I tied my ankles to the back legs of the chair myself, Lena watched, but didn't catch all the nuances. Now she's working on my wrists, tying them to the front legs. It doesn't go smoothly.

"No, don't bother with quick release, tie a simple square knot."

She does my second wrist, this time more dexterously. I test my bonds and find them satisfactory.

"You're getting better! Now to make it neat, tie a few loops above my knees."

She does that while I watch, looking back under my armpit.

"I said 'neat'! Coils should lay in parallel, one close to another."

She ties off the rope.

"I appreciate your guidance... But I thought I was supposed to dominate you, not the other way around."

"Yes, you're right. It's just... I used to do it all myself. This is new for me."

"I know, I know. But I'll turn the camera on now, and your gripes would sound out of place."

"I'll try to keep them to myself."

"I have a better idea."

She rifles through my bag of bondage gear and fishes out a ball gag.

"No, please! It's not necessary!"

"I think it is."

She approaches, swinging the gag around her finger.

"I hate that thing!"

"Still, you carry it."

"Wait, my safeword..."

"I remember, 'Redrum'."


She shoves the gag in my mouth and pulls the strap tighter than it's needed. Then she produces a rubber chew toy shaped like a cartoonish bone and puts it into my right palm.

"Hold onto it. If you feel you can't take it anymore, drop it and I'll stop. Nod if you understand."

I nod. Ok, so she's not a complete rookie. Is it good or bad?

"Ok, it's time to turn the camera on."

She does just that. Then she gets back to me and smacks my upturned bare ass playfully.

"Alright, we have it scripted. Not too strenuous tie, some light spanking, some fake moaning on your part. But I think that Zhdibedy guy would appreciate a more creative approach. Something that would shake his pervy soul."

I raise my brows in surprise. She crouches down beside me and I see a couple of clothespins in her hand. I shake my head and eye her pleadingly. I love bondage and I'm fine with sharp fleeting pain, but I hate clamps. They make my tender parts ache and when they're removed, the ache gets worse. Lena reaches for my nipple and quickly flicks it into a nice erect state. I'm surprised by the reaction of my body. Oh, well, I might even get some joy out of it.

The pin clamps on my nipple. No, no joy for me. My second nipple refuses to stand up, and she just pulls on it before clamping it as well. I make a muffled yelp, to which she pays no attention.

"Now, that pretty face of yours which you're so protective of. We need to cover it somehow. Yes, you're already on camera, but better late than never, right? I suppose, this bag will do."

I watch helplessly as she unfolds a black plastic bag. "For fuck's sake, Lena, I have a gas mask for that!" I think to myself, but can vocalize only unintelligible grunts. My jaw aches already. She pulls the bag over my head and ties it off at the neck. On the first inhale, it clings to my skin and I start suffocating. "I should drop it," a thought flashes in my mind and the hand holding the chew toy tingles. But I clench my fist stubbornly. The bag rustles and a tiny hole appears in it before my nose. I suck the air in gratefully. It's not enough, but I'll live.

The bag isn't that thick, but I can see only vague shapes through it. I can hear Lena walking around me. Then I feel her hands on my ankle, tugging at the rope. Is she done with me already?

No, she isn't. She undoes the rope holding my ankle, folds my leg up at the knee and reties the ankle to my thigh. I don't grunt my protests until she starts doing the same with the other leg. I'd kick her if not for the fear of falling over. Now, with all my weight resting on the thin bar of the chair back, I'm really uncomfortable. I'm holding on to the chew toy like a maniac and huffing angrily. The smell of plastic is making me dizzy, or maybe it's just the lack of oxygen. By this point, the bag is sticky with drool and perspiration.

By the sound of it, Lena is rummaging in my bondage bag again.

"What have we here? I'm not even sure... Oh! This thing is wicked! Let's try it out."

Something presses against my asshole. I clench instinctively, expecting some 'wicked' toy, but the thing is thin and slick, it penetrates easily and I feel cold squirt inside. It's a nozzle of a lube bottle! "You're doing it wrong, dumbass!" I think, but don't resist. I should consider myself lucky she remembers about the lube at all.

I feel the bottle is removed and now it's time for the toy. It's rough and hard, definitely not rubber or silicone. I suspect the worst. It gets in relatively easy, not very deep, and then my suspicions prove correct. Lena starts cranking it open. Somewhere about the third turn, I start yelling into my gag. She doesn't stop, of course. I'm thrashing in my ropes and wiggling my ass, hoping that she's not strong enough to open it all the way. Probably not, but she has a good grip on it.

She stops. I'm whimpering quietly.

"Either you're too tight or I'm too weak. Let me bring some tools."

I freeze. No, she's not kidding, she actually opens some cabinets, I hear metal clanging and in a few moments she returns. I feel cold steel on my butt cheeks, some monkey wrench maybe, and the cranking continues. My throat is sore from all the yelling, my ass feels like it has a boat anchor stuck in there. At last, she stops, removes the tools and gives the plug a good yank.

"Now it's not going anywhere," she says, pleased with herself.

She stands by my side and crouches to my level.

"How are you holding up?" she asks, puts her finger through my airhole and touches my nose. I jerk my head away.

"So, your fighting spirit is there. Good. I guess, I can push you some more."

I snarl and shake my head. My ass is literally torn apart, I can't feel my nipples, I nearly faint. The chew toy in my hand weighs a ton.

Lena walks around me again. I hear a swish. I try to steel myself for the caning, but I'm too distracted. The first strike lands across the sole of my left foot, but my ass burns so much that I barely feel any new pain. Only when the sting from repeating strikes builds up, I start to squirm and move my foot around, trying to avoid the cane. Lena switches to the other foot. A bigger part of me wants to wake up in my own bed and realize it was just a bad dream. But some other part of me is pissed that I can't feel the bastinado properly. I couldn't really do it myself and I was curious. But now all other sensations mess up this one.

I'm hurt, tired and angry, drowning in my own drool. I can't get enough air for screaming. The only thing preventing me from dropping the chew toy is the guilt about abusing my safeword in the last session with Henning. In a desperate attempt to avoid the cane, I shift my weight to the side a little too fast and the chair topples. I don't even register it, I just hear a crash and my head knocks against the hardwood.

I was out for a couple of minutes, maybe. When I come around, the bag and the gag are gone, my ass is aching, but free. Lena is kneeling beside me and she's working on my ropes. I move my head to look at her and she squeaks:

"Oh, my God, you're alive! I'm so sorry, I got carried away! Why didn't you drop the toy?"

My right hand is free already, I lift it to my face. To my surprise, the rubber bone is still clutched in the fist. My knuckles are white and stiff, it takes some effort to unlock the fingers.

"What... time is it?" I croak hoarsely.

I send the video and for the next hour we're waiting for the reaction. Lena tries to make me comfortable, helping me to dress and treating me to tea and muffins. I'm not in the mood for talking, sitting sombrely and thinking about possible strategies of talking to the guy. But he doesn't call or text. It's late already, I have to get back home to my son, so I start to pack up. Before I leave, Lena takes my hand. I stiffen up a bit, but force myself to act relaxed.

"Look, I'm really sorry. It wasn't what you expected. Hell, it wasn't what I expected. If I can amend somehow, just say it."

"No worries. It was a bit rough and I wasn't prepared for that. But I can't say you did wrong."

"Aren't you mad at me?"

"A bit," I admit. "It'll pass, probably."

She moves to hug me and I allow it.

Mike meets me, hands on hips.

"Where have you been? It's past eleven!"

"Hello yourself. You're not my mom, chill out."

"I was worried! You're spending a lot of time outside lately. Are you dating?"

"What? No!"


I make an ambiguous gesture and go to my study. Kids these days! Just as I flop in my chair, the phone starts ringing.

"Well, did my video make you happy?"

"You're crazy. And your friend is a lunatic too. The deal's off, you're free."

"What? You wanted it! You've made me do it!"

"It was supposed to be harmless... entertainment, not a snuff movie! Next time, you'll keel over, and the cops will come for me. I don't need that. I'll destroy your thumb drive and won't make copies. I'm out."

No, I can't have that. If he cuts all ties with me now, I won't be able to catch him. I'd lose the game.

"Oh, that's a relief. Now I have one less thumb drive to worry about."

"Wait, one less? How many are out there?"

"There were a few. When I realized it was a bad idea, I managed to retrieve all but two of them. One was yours."

"So, the last one? Why didn't you get it back?"

"I hid it in the old storm sewer, it was unlocked. And when I came there again, there was a padlock on the gate."

"Shit! Why? Why did you hide the thumbdrive in the sewer? What if some hobo found it?"

"Why do you care all of a sudden?"

"Because despite what you might think of me, I'm not deprived of human decency. I don't want you to get hurt more than you're ready for. It was a game of chance, right? You're winning so far because it was me who found your video. But you may still lose."

"Granted, I didn't think of it this way. Ok, what do you suggest?"

There's silence, just some humming in the phone speaker.

"I'll get it. And destroy along with the first. But I don't want you to sneak up on me. That's why I want you to chain yourself to a heating radiator and send me timestamped selfies on demand while I'll be wading through the sewers."

"I'm fine with that."

It's the dead of night, streets are mostly empty. It's a good thing, because I have to drive fast. I park the car some distance away and approach the sewer entrance on foot. There's a wide ditch with concrete walls leading to a hole in the slope of the hill and a steel grate across it. I crouch behind some bushes and wait.

Good thing I was in a hurry before - maybe five minutes later I see a human figure in a dark hoodie and black cargo pants carrying a long flat backpack with handles of a big cutting tool sticking out of it. He's rather slim and probably shorter than me. I burrow deeper into the bush.

He looks around and jumps down into the ditch. I hear a muffled curse when he realizes there's a shallow stream of water down there. He fiddles with his cutting tool, there's some clanging and then a screech of rusty hinges. He enters the sewer, I leave my cover and follow, lowering myself into the ditch carefully, trying to not make a splash.

I see the light spot from his torch flicking about the tunnel. He's muttering something, probably counting seams in the walls. The sewer stream murmur is echoing in the concrete tube, masking my steps. I lift my own torch, a hefty black cylinder, totally capable of serving as a makeshift club, and turn it on. The beam of light hits him in the back, he jumps and turns around. And just as I suspected, he's not a 'he'.

"Fuck! How? I checked your pic five minutes ago!" Lena sounds genuinely surprised.

"You have your ways of faking digital output, I have mine."

"There are no more thumb drives, right?"

"No. How did you get hold of it?"

"I stalked you, of course. I was curious about your secret life, had some spare time and used it to follow you a little. I thought you had an affair or something. But you turned out to be much more interesting than I took you for."

"Why pretend to be a blackmailer?"

"Wasn't it what you wanted? The point of the game was to surrender control of your life to a stranger. You've got it."

"Why stop the game then?"

"I feel bad about pushing you too far. The game's stupid and dangerous. I figured, now when you know I know your secret, you would take me for a play partner without any pressure. Or not!" she adds quickly, seeing me scowl.

"You stalked me, blackmailed me, tortured me, and now you're talking about being my partner? No way! I should beat you senseless right now!"

"And you would probably succeed," she lifts her hands in surrender. "But I wish I could change your mind."

I stare at her for a long minute. Yes, she did me wrong. But she's right, the game was stupid and dangerous, and I was lucky it ended this way. She was willing to break into the sewers at night to stop the game. Still...

"Do you realize, after all you've seen and done, I can't just let it slide?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"You must do the same thing I did for my video."

"You're kidding me? No, you're not..."

"Hi, Henning!"

"Hi, babe :* It went well, I take it?"

"Reasonably well, yes. I wanted to thank you for your help with the fake timestamps."

"Ah, anytime. But you probably would want to change your Discord password now."

"I will. I believe I owe you something."

"No, you don't."

I turn my face to a lamp light and snap a selfie.


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