Chapter 1: The Contract and the Corpse Bride
Meghan’s key scraped in the lock for what felt like the fifth time before the deadbolt finally gave. She shouldered the door open, the leather of her briefcase strap digging a trench into her shoulder. Midnight. The hallway behind her was a tomb, but her apartment greeted her with the familiar, grim smell of stale coffee and three-day-old Thai food.
The single fluorescent bulb in the ceiling fixture buzzed like a trapped wasp, flickering light over the disaster zone. Her desk was a burial mound of crumpled contracts and coffee-stained legal pads.
The air was thick with the scent of her own exhaustion, mixed with the faint metallic tang of her perfume—something expensive she’d splurged on last month when she’d had a rare moment of optimism. She dropped her briefcase with a thud.
Then she saw her.
Chrissy.
Perched on the edge of the couch like a gothic gargoyle, one knee bent, the other dangling over the armrest. She wore a cropped black leather jacket, the kind that looked like it had been worn straight out of a *True Detective* episode, and a pair of ripped black fishnets that left little to the imagination. Her blond hair was piled into a messy bun, but a few strands had escaped, framing her sharp cheekbones. Her lips were painted a deep, blood-red, and she was holding a contract in one hand like it was a trophy.
In the other, she clutched a fake severed head, its glass eyes staring blankly at Meghan. It was one of Chrissy's props, a relic from her latest low-budget horror film project.
Meghan sighed, running a hand through her ponytail. "Chrissy, it's midnight. What are you doing here?"
Chrissy grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Waiting for you, sweetheart. I've been going over the lease. You know, Section 12B?"
Meghan's stomach dropped. She knew that section. It was the one about late rent.
Meghan had skimmed it, sure, but she'd been in a hurry that day, and the lease was a fucking novel. She'd thought she'd get to it later. But later had turned into never, and now here was Chrissy, waving the contract at her like a fucking sword.
"Section 12B, sweetheart," Chrissy said, her voice a purr. "Late rent means you're now my leading lady."
Meghan rolled her eyes, but there was a flutter in her stomach. Chrissy's gaze was intense, her pupils dilated, and Meghan could see the pulse at her neck, throbbing like a heartbeat. "Chrissy, I'm not in the mood.
I've had a fucking hellish day," Meghan said, her voice sharp. But there was a catch in her throat, a hitch that betrayed her. Chrissy's eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking down Meghan's body, taking in the white satin blouse, the black latex pencil-skirt, the knee-high black boots. Meghan felt a flush of heat, her nipples hardening under Chrissy's scrutiny.
Chrissy stood, her movements fluid, predatory. She set the contract and the severed head down on the coffee table, her eyes never leaving Meghan. "Sure, then give me the rent and I'm out of here." said cheerfully.
"I don't have it, yet." Meghan admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She was acutely aware of every inch of her body, every nerve ending screaming to life under Chrissy's gaze.
Chrissy took a step closer, her boots clicking on the hardwood floor. "Well, Meghan, it seems we have a problem. You are in a legal bind." Her voice was low, husky. She reached out, her fingers trailing down Meghan's arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "You're late on your rent, and I'm not one to let things slide."
Meghan swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.
"Can you tell me what's in Section 12B of the contract?" Meghan asked in a sassy tone.
She was trying to keep her composure, but her voice betrayed her, wavering slightly. Chrissy's touch was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
Chrissy's lips curved into a smirk. "Well, Meghan, it seems you've got yourself into quite the predicament. Section 12B states that in case of late rent, the tenant must provide alternative compensation to the landlord. And I, being the generous soul that I am, have decided to accept... services rendered."
"Services rendered?
Chrissy, I don’t know what kind of horror movie you’re filming, but I’m not your extra," Meghan said, crossing her arms. She tried to sound firm, but her pulse was hammering against her throat, and her fingers twitched at her sides.
Chrissy laughed, a low, melodic sound that sent a shiver down Meghan’s spine. She leaned against the coffee table, her black fishnets glinting in the dim light. "Oh, honey, I’m not asking for an extra. I’m asking for a *lead role*." She tapped the contract with a long, manicured nail. "You’re a lawyer.
You should know how to read a contract," Chrissy said, her voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. She reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from Meghan’s cheek. Meghan’s breath hitched, her skin prickling under Chrissy’s touch. "Section 12B is pretty clear: *‘In the event of non-payment, the tenant shall fulfill a mutually agreed-upon alternative obligation within seventy-two hours of notice.’*" Chrissy’s fingers lingered, tracing the edge of Meghan’s jaw. "And I’ve already given you the notice."
Meghan’s mind raced.
She was a lawyer, for fuck’s sake. She should have read the fine print. But she’d been so busy, and Chrissy had seemed like such a nice girl. She’d never imagined she’d be blackmailed into starring in a low-budget horror film.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "And what exactly does this 'mutually agreed-upon alternative obligation' entail, Chrissy?" She tried to keep her voice steady, but it wavered slightly.
Chrissy's grin widened, and she stepped back, her hands going to her hips. "Well, Meghan, I've been working on this film for months. It's a passion project, you know? But I won't spoiler, come to my apartment in an hour and you will see. Also, don't change your attire, you are perfect as it is." Chrissy’s voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, as she turned toward the door. "And don’t worry—it will be fun."
---
An hour later Meghan was about to knock on Chrissy's door.
She stood outside the gothic apartment, her heart pounding in her chest. The air smelled of rain and damp concrete, the city lights casting an eerie glow over the building. She adjusted the hem of her pencil skirt, her fingers trembling slightly. She had no idea what she was walking into, but one thing was clear: Chrissy wasn't messing around.
Meghan raised her hand to knock, but paused. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She had always been the one in control, the one who had everything figured out. But now, standing outside Chrissy's door, she felt like she was on the brink of something she couldn't predict.
She knocked.
The sound echoed through the narrow hallway, a single metallic *thunk* that seemed to hang in the air. Chrissy’s door creaked open before Meghan could even pull her hand back, revealing a dimly lit hallway lined with flickering candles. The scent of old books, damp leather, and something faintly metallic—like rust or blood—wafted out.
Chrissy stood there, silhouetted against the glow of a single lamp in the living room. She wore a cropped black sweater that hugged her waist.
Her black fishnets were still on, and she had swapped out her usual boots for a pair of black lace-up combat boots, the laces tied in a loose bow. Her blond hair was down, cascading over her shoulders in loose waves, and her red lipstick was still vivid against her pale skin.
"Come in, Meghan," Chrissy said, her voice soft but commanding. She stepped back, gesturing for Meghan to enter. "You look stunning. Just as I imagined."
Meghan hesitated for a moment, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. She could feel the weight of Chrissy’s gaze on her, the intensity of it making her skin flush.
Meghan hesitated for a heartbeat before stepping inside, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor. The apartment was bathed in the flickering glow of candles—some real, some electric, their flames casting long, shifting shadows across the walls. The air smelled of old books and something faintly metallic, like rust, mixed with the faintest hint of Chrissy’s perfume.
The living room was a shrine to horror, but there was a warmth to it, a lived-in coziness that made it feel like a sanctuary rather than a set. A vintage projector hummed softly in the corner, its beam casting an oversized silhouette of a flickering VHS tape onto the wall.
A makeshift screen had been set up, a white sheet stretched taut and pinned to the wall with a collection of old movie posters—*Nightmare on Elm Street*, *Friday the 13th*, *Scream*—surrounding it like a macabre gallery.
Chrissy led Meghan to the couch, her hand light on the small of Meghan's back. Meghan could feel the heat of Chrissy's touch through her blouse, her skin prickling with goosebumps. She sat down, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes scanning the room, taking in every detail.
Chrissy sat down next to her, close enough that their knees touched. Then Meghan noticed the items on the small table in front of the couch. Bundles of silken rope and rolls of white tape.
A small, antique-looking camera on a tripod. A stack of old, yellowed books, their spines embossed with titles like "The Necronomicon" and "The King in Yellow." And, most notably, a large, ornate mirror propped up against the wall, its surface reflecting the flickering light of the candles.
Meghan's eyes widened as she took in the scene. She turned to Chrissy, her voice barely above a whisper. "Chrissy, what is all this?"
Chrissy grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "This, Meghan, is where the magic happens. This is where I bring my stories to life." She gestured to the mirror. "With that you can check yourself during the scenes, and also part of the story, but that is inconsequential now." Chrissy said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now, Meghan, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
Meghan's eyes flicked from the mirror to Chrissy, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never been one to trust easily, but there was something about Chrissy, something in her eyes that made Meghan want to believe her. She took a deep breath, her fingers unclenching in her lap. "I'll try," she said, her voice steady.
Chrissy's face broke into a wide smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's all I ask, Meghan. So, let's start with the harder scenes... the damsel-scenes."
"Wait, what?"
"Damsel-scenes. I will tie you up nice and tight, don't worry you can't get free on your own." said Chrissy cheerfully.
"Why would I want to get free?!"
"You don't? Ohh, that's hot."
"That's not what I meant!" Meghan exclaimed, her eyes widening. "Chrissy, I'm not an actress. I can't just... just *pretend* to be tied up."
Chrissy laughed, a sound that was surprisingly warm and comforting. "Oh, Meghan, it's not just pretend. You will be really tied up. And who knows, you might enjoy it." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I promise, I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe with me. Trust me, I know shibari."
Meghan's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Must you use rope?"
"No, I can strap you into my straitjacket, it has quite tight crotch-straps." said Chrissy with a wink.
"But I think we'll start with the rope. It's more... *cinematic*."
Meghan's eyes flicked to the bundles of silken rope on the table, her stomach twisting into a knot. She'd never been one for kink, never even considered it. But there was something about Chrissy's confidence, her enthusiasm, that made Meghan's heart race. She took a deep breath, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. "Alright," she said, her voice steady. "But I want to know what's going on at all times. No surprises."
Chrissy's grin widened, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Deal," she said. "Now turn your back towards me and put your hands behind." Chrissy said, her voice calm and authoritative. Meghan hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with a thousand conflicting thoughts. She had never been tied up before, and the idea of it was both thrilling and terrifying. She turned her back to Chrissy, her shoulders tense. "What do you need me to do exactly?"
Chrissy’s fingers brushed against Meghan’s collarbone lightly, sending a shiver down her spine. "Just put your hands behind you, sweetheart. I’ll guide you."
Meghan did as she was told, her fingers finding the small of her back.
She could feel Chrissy's breath on her neck, warm and steady. Chrissy's fingers were gentle but firm as she took Meghan's wrists in her hands, her thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin.
"Now, I'm going to tie your hands and body into a cross-chest box-tie," Chrissy murmured, her voice low and soothing. "It's an elaborate tie, but very effective.
It'll keep your arms close to your body, and it'll be a bit of a challenge to get out of. But don't worry, I'll make sure you're comfortable, and I'll check on you every step of the way," Chrissy explained, her voice calm and reassuring. Meghan could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She nodded, her eyes fixed on the wall in front of her.
Chrissy began to work, her fingers deft and sure as she wrapped the silken rope around Meghan's wrists, pulling it tight but not painfully so. Meghan could feel the rope ensnaring her, the sensation both strange and exhilarating.
Chrissy’s hands moved with practiced precision, the silken thread gliding over her flesh like a whisper. Meghan’s breath hitched as the first tight knot secured her wrists behind her back, the pressure warm and intoxicating.
*"There we go,"* Chrissy murmured, her voice a low purr. *"Now, let’s get you a little more… secure."*
Meghan’s pulse quickened as Chrissy’s fingers trailed down her spine, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. The rope wrapped around her waist, pulling tight before looping back up to her shoulders, binding her arms to her torso. Meghan’s breath came faster, her body responding in ways she hadn’t expected.
She felt a strange sense of vulnerability, but also a thrill she’d never experienced before. Chrissy’s hands were gentle yet firm, her touch sending waves of heat through Meghan’s body. She could feel the rope binding her, the sensation both restrictive and liberating.
Chrissy’s voice was soft in her ear, guiding her through each step. “Now, let’s get your legs involved. I’m going to tie your ankles together, just to keep you from escaping. Don’t worry, you won't get away.”
Meghan nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel Chrissy’s fingers on her calves, the touch light and teasing. "Is this really necessary?" Meghan asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She was acutely aware of every inch of her body, every nerve ending screaming to life under Chrissy's touch.
Chrissy chuckled, her breath warm against Meghan's ear. "Oh, absolutely. It's all about the immersion, sweetheart. Besides, you look fucking hot like this. I could get used to seeing you tied up."
Meghan felt a flush of heat at Chrissy's words, her nipples hardening against the satin of her blouse.
She bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. "Well, don't get too used to it," she said, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "I'm not planning on making a habit of this." "Oh, Meghan, always the lawyer, always negotiating. But don't worry, I have no intention of making this a regular thing. I just want to make this scene... *real*."
Meghan felt a shiver run down her spine at the intensity in Chrissy's voice. She took a deep breath, her fingers curling into fists in the rope binding her wrists. "Fine, go on."
"Super-duper, now I'll tie your legs together above and below your knees, then at your thighs." Chrissy said, her voice calm and reassuring. Meghan nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel Chrissy's fingers on her calves, the touch light and teasing. The rope wrapped around her legs, pulling tight, binding her knees together first, then her thighs. Meghan's breath hitched as she felt the pressure, the sensation of being held, of being at Chrissy's mercy.
Chrissy's hands moved with practiced ease, the rope gliding over Meghan's skin like a whisper. Meghan could feel the knots tightening, securing her legs together, making it impossible for her to move, to escape. She felt a thrill of fear, a shiver of excitement.
Chrissy’s fingers were warm, her touch deliberate. Meghan’s breath came faster, her pulse racing. She could feel the heat of Chrissy’s gaze on her, the intensity of it making her skin flush.
Chrissy leaned back, studying her handiwork. "There we go. Now you’re tied up nice and tight. You won’t be getting anywhere without my help." She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And that’s exactly how I like it."
Meghan swallowed hard, her throat dry. "You know, Chrissy, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this."
Chrissy’s grin softened into a knowing smile. "Oh, Meghan.
You’re already comfortable. You’re just not *aware* of it yet," Chrissy said softly, her voice dropping to a whisper. She stood up, her black combat boots clicking against the hardwood floor as she walked around Meghan, admiring her handiwork. "See? You’re breathing faster. Your pulse is racing. You’re flushed. You’re *turned on*."
Meghan’s face burned. She tried to deny it, but her body betrayed her. Her nipples were hard against the satin of her blouse, and her thighs were damp with arousal. "That’s just… stress, I'm really not!" She muttered, trying to sound convincing.
Her voice cracked, betraying her, and she cleared her throat. "I’m just nervous about the film."
Chrissy’s laughter filled the room, a rich, warm sound that sent another shiver down Meghan’s spine. She turned to face her, standing just inches away, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "Nervous? Oh, sweetheart, you’re not nervous. You’re *excited*." Chrissy reached out, her fingers brushing Meghan’s cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. "And you’re *wet*."
Meghan’s breath hitched. She could feel the heat radiating from Chrissy’s touch, the way her skin seemed to hum under the contact.
"But sure, let's see if you can get free of the bindings, even though you don't want to. If you are successful, you are free to go." Chrissy said, her voice laced with amusement. Meghan's eyes flashed with determination. She tested the ropes, wriggling her wrists and ankles, trying to find any give, any weakness. But Chrissy's knots were tight, her bindings secure. Meghan's heart pounded in her chest as she realized the futility of her struggle. She was truly trapped.
Chrissy watched her, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Thought as much. Ready to continue?"
Meghan glared at her.
"Fine. I'm not going anywhere."
"Super-duper, now let's wrap up those hands of yours into tight, useless fists." Chirped Chrissy as she picked up a roll of white microfoam tape.
"I'm going to make sure you can't even wiggle your fingers. It's for the best." She knelt in front of Meghan, her black combat boots scuffing against the hardwood floor. The air between them was charged, thick with anticipation. Meghan’s breath hitched as Chrissy’s fingers brushed against her wrists, her touch sending a jolt through her.
"Chrissy, I don't think this is necessary," Meghan said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Chrissy’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Oh, but it is, Meghan. It's all about the *immersion*. You can't fight back if you can't even move your fingers." She tore off a strip of tape, her movements deliberate and slow, as if she was savoring the moment. Meghan watched, her heart pounding in her chest, as Chrissy wrapped the tape around her left hand, pulling it tight. The tape was sticky, adhering to her skin, making it impossible for her to move her fingers. She tested them, wriggling them slightly, but they were useless, bound up tight.
"Chrissy, this is ridiculous," Meghan said, her voice coming out breathier than she intended.
She tried to sound firm, but her pulse was still hammering against her throat.
"Ridiculous?" Chrissy asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. She tore off another strip of tape and began wrapping Meghan's right hand. "Oh, sweetheart, this is *cinematic perfection*. You’ll see." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against Meghan’s ear. "And besides, you’re enjoying it."
Meghan’s face flushed. She wanted to deny it, but her body was betraying her. Her nipples were aching against the satin of her blouse, and her thighs were damp with arousal. She tried to pull away, but the ropes held her fast.
Chrissy's fingers were deft, wrapping the tape around her right hand with the same precision as her left. Meghan could feel the tape pulling tight, her fingers useless against the sticky surface.
Chrissy leaned back, admiring her handiwork. "There we go," she said, her voice soft. "Now you're truly helpless." She reached out, her fingers brushing against Meghan's cheek. Meghan flinched, but Chrissy's touch was gentle, her thumb tracing the line of Meghan's jaw. "Don't worry, Meghan. I won't let anything happen to you. You're safe with me."
Meghan's heart pounded in her chest. "I'm... I'm not completely helpless." Meghan retorted, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. She tested her hands again, but the tape held firm, her fingers useless. She glared at Chrissy, her green eyes flashing. "I can still talk, can't I?"
Chrissy chuckled, a sound that was surprisingly warm and comforting. "Oh, absolutely, Meghan. I wouldn't dream of silencing that sharp tongue of yours. But since you insist I can shut you up." She picked up a larger roll of tape and a neatly folded cloth.
Meghan's eyes narrowed.
"What do you mean, 'shut me up'?" "Exactly what I said, sweetheart. I mean, you're tied up, you're helpless. But you're still talking. And that's not very... "You wouldn't dare."
"Open up, Meghan. I will be gentle."
"Absolutely not. No freakinmmmmmphf!" said Meghan as the stuffing was gently pushed into her mouth.
"There you go, now close those lips."
Chrissy murmured, her voice warm and soothing. She adjusted the cloth, tucking it neatly into Meghan's mouth. Meghan's eyes widened in shock, her body tensing. She tried to pull away, but the ropes and tape held her fast. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and a thrill of unexpected arousal.
Chrissy tore up the end of the roll of tape and pressed it firmly against Meghan's lips, sealing the cloth gag in place. Meghan's eyes flashed with anger, but Chrissy just smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Now, now, Meghan. Don't look so angry. It's just a little gag. It won't hurt you. And besides, it's all part of the scene. You're the damsel in distress, remember?"
Meghan glared at her, her eyes flashing with anger. She tried to speak, to argue, but all that came out was a muffled "Mmmph!" as Chrissy continued to wrap the tape around her head and mouth multiple times.
She was careful, precise, making sure the gag was secure. Meghan’s eyes were wide, her chest heaving with frustration and arousal.
Chrissy stood back, admiring her work. Now you’re properly gagged." She reached out, brushing a loose strand of Meghan’s black hair behind her ear. "You look stunning like this. Like a real damsel in distress."
Meghan’s face burned with embarrassment. She glared at Chrissy, her eyes flashing with anger and something else—something she couldn’t quite name.
Chrissy chuckled softly, her voice warm and teasing. "One last bit, let's smear that make-up of yours a bit." She reached for a cloth on the table.
It was damp and cold, and Meghan flinched as Chrissy pressed it against her face, smearing her makeup. "What are you doing?" Meghan mumbled, her voice muffled by the gag. Chrissy just smiled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Making you look the part, sweetheart. A damsel in distress wouldn't have perfect makeup, now would she?" She rubbed the cloth roughly against Meghan's cheeks, her fingers brushing against her skin. Meghan tried to pull away, but the ropes held her fast. She could feel her makeup smudging, her carefully applied eyeliner running down her cheeks. She glared at Chrissy, her eyes flashing with anger.
The smudged makeup stung her eyes, and she tried to blink it away, but the cold cloth kept pressing against her face. Chrissy’s fingers were gentle but firm, smearing the remnants of Meghan’s foundation and eyeliner into streaks of dark smudges across her cheeks. It was humiliating, but beneath it, something else stirred in her—an unfamiliar heat pooling low in her stomach.
Chrissy stepped back, her hands wiping against her black leather pants. Now you look like you’ve been crying." "Just like a damsel in distress should." She wiped her hands on her pants and stepped back, surveying Meghan with a critical eye. "Perfect. Now, let's get you into position."
Meghan’s chest heaved beneath the constraints of the ropes and tape, her eyes darting between Chrissy and the camera set up in the corner. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glow over the scene. She tried to shift her weight, but the ropes held her in place, her legs bound tightly together, her wrists bound behind her back.
Chrissy reached for something on the table—a small, ornate hand mirror.
She held it up in front of Meghan, turning it so Meghan could see her reflection. Meghan's eyes widened as she took in her appearance. Her usually sleek raven hair was disheveled, falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Her makeup was smudged, dark streaks running down her cheeks, giving her the appearance of a woman who had been crying. Her green eyes, usually so bright and sharp, were wide and frightened. She looked like a damsel in distress, exactly as Chrissy had intended.
"See, Meghan? You're perfect," Chrissy said, her voice soft. She set the mirror down and turned back to Meghan.
"Mmmmmphf." Meghan glared at Chrissy, her eyes flashing with anger and frustration. She tried to speak, to demand that Chrissy untie her, but the gag muffled her words, reducing them to nothing more than a mumbled protest. Chrissy just smiled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. It's all part of the scene, remember?" Chrissy said, her voice calm and soothing. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Meghan's cheek, wiping away a smudge of eyeliner that had escaped her earlier ministrations. Meghan flinched at the touch, but Chrissy's fingers were gentle, her touch warm.
"Mmmmphf?" Meghan tried to protest again, her eyes narrowing as she glared at Chrissy. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her chest rising and falling beneath the constraints of the ropes.
Chrissy leaned in closer, her breath warm against Meghan’s ear. "You know, Meghan, you’re not as good at this as you think you are. You’re supposed to *look* scared, not *act* like you’re about to break free." She chuckled softly, her fingers tracing the line of Meghan’s jaw. "But I like it."
"Mmmmphf!" Meghan mumbled, her eyes flashing with anger. She tried to jerk her head away from Chrissy's touch, but the ropes held her fast. Chrissy just chuckled, her fingers trailing down Meghan's neck, her touch light and teasing. Always so fiery. I love it." She stepped back, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Now, let's get you into position. I want you to stay on the couch, lean back, like you are sleeping." Meghan's eyes widened in shock and she shook her head, trying to protest. "Mmmph! Mmmph!" Standing up in shaky balance due to her bindings.
"You are really not in a position to argue with me, Meghan." teased Chrissy as she playfully pushed Meghan back with a finger.
Meghan stumbled, her bound legs making it difficult to keep her balance. She landed on the couch with a soft thud, her breath hitching as she bounced slightly. Chrissy stood over her, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement. "There you go. Now, lean back, like you're sleeping." Meghan glared up at her, her eyes flashing with anger. "Mmmph!" she mumbled, trying to argue, but the gag muffled her words. Chrissy just smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "That's the spirit," she said, her voice warm and teasing. She reached out, her hands gentle as she guided Meghan's head back onto the arm of the couch.
Meghan's eyes flashed with defiance, but she complied, her head resting against the cool leather. Chrissy's fingers were warm against her skin, her touch surprisingly soft as she arranged Meghan's hair, spreading it out around her shoulders. Meghan protested again, her eyes narrowing as she watched Chrissy move around the room, adjusting lights and cameras. She felt a pang of unease, a shiver of fear running down her spine. She was completely at Chrissy's mercy, bound and gagged, unable to move or speak. She tested the ropes again, wriggling her wrists and ankles, but they held firm.
The tape around her wrists was unyielding, and the gag muffled any protest she might have made. Meghan’s breath came in short, sharp gasps, her chest rising and falling beneath the bindings.
Chrissy moved around the room, adjusting the camera angles with practiced ease. She had a small, handheld light that she flicked on and off, casting eerie shadows across Meghan’s face. Meghan’s eyes followed the shifting light, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Mmmmphf?" Meghan mumbled, her eyes darting between Chrissy and the camera. She could feel the weight of the lens on her, the cold, unblinking eye of the camera capturing her every move. She shifted uncomfortably on the couch, her bound legs making it difficult to find a comfortable position. Chrissy moved around the room, her black combat boots clicking against the hardwood floor, her dark eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Now, Meghan," Chrissy said, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "I want you feign sleeping, then you slowly get awake. You realize something is not right, you notice your bindings. You realize you are completely bound and gagged. You look scared. Really scared." Meghan's eyes widened in shock.
"Mmmmphf!"
"Noted. Now get ready, aaaand... action!" Chrissy called out, her voice echoing in the small apartment. The camera light flickered on, casting a harsh, unyielding glow over Meghan's bound form. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She could feel the weight of the camera on her, the unblinking eye watching her every move. She forced herself to relax, to let her body go limp, to feign sleep.
The room was silent except for the soft hum of the camera and the distant hum of traffic outside. Meghan lay still, her breath slow and steady, her body relaxed.
She tried to lose herself in the sensation of the ropes around her wrists and ankles, the tape around her hands, the gag in her mouth. She tried to imagine that she was somewhere else, that this was all just a dream. But the ropes were too tight, the tape too sticky, the gag too real. She was here, in Chrissy's apartment, bound and gagged, at Chrissy's mercy.
She let her mind wander, her thoughts drifting like smoke. She thought about her cases, about the arguments she had to prepare, the briefs she had to write. She thought about her finances, about the stack of bills piling up on her kitchen counter.
She thought about her landlord, about the way he had looked at her when she had handed him the check for her late rent. She thought about Chrissy, about the way she had laughed when Meghan had protested about being tied up. She thought about the way Chrissy's fingers had felt on her skin, the way her touch had sent a jolt through her.
She jolted herself back to reality, slowly, feigning surprise at her bindings. "Mmmmphf?" Meghan mumbled, her eyes fluttering open as if waking from a deep sleep. She blinked, her gaze darting around the room, confusion clouding her features. She shifted, trying to move her arms, but they were held fast behind her back. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized the extent of her bindings. She wriggled her wrists, but the ropes held firm, the knots tight and secure. She tried to kick out, to free her legs, but they were bound together, the rope pulling tight against her skin. Meghan protested, her voice muffled by the gag. She glared at Chrissy, her eyes flashing with anger and fear.
Then suddenly Meghan's mobile started to ring. "Oh for fuck's sake, you forgot to mute it?" chuckled Chrissy. "Don't worry, I'll get it. Don't go anywhere." She said with a wink to the glaring Meghan as she strode towards her bag.
She fished out Meghan's phone and looked at the screen. "Who is Sonja?" Chrissy asked, her eyebrows raised as she looked at the caller ID. Meghan's eyes widened in panic, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. She shook her head, trying to protest, but the gag muffled her words. Chrissy's eyes sparkled with amusement as she pressed the answer button, putting the phone on speaker.
"Meghan? Where are you, girl? I've been knocking on your door for minutes," a sexy voice said, the words tumbling out in a rush. It was Sonja, Meghan's best friend and fellow lawyer. Meghan's eyes were wide with panic, her body tense in her bindings as she listened to Sonja's voice.
"Meghan? Are you there?"
"Hi Sonja, this is Chrissy, Meghan's landlord. She is right here with me... but she is "a bit tied up at the moment" so I picked up instead of her." She said mischievously.
"Oh hi, Meghan told me about you. She really likes you, Chrissy."
"Really, oh she is so shy to admit it to me." said Chrissy smiling. "Meghan currently helps me with a creative project of mine, due to her late rent payments."
"Wow, you piqued my curiosity, but I don't want to be a bother. Tell her to call me back when 'she gets free.'"
"Oh Sonja, you are not a bother. You know what? Come down here to my apartment and see for yourself what Meghan got herself into." She looked at Meghan, who was glaring at her, her eyes wide with panic. Meghan shook her head, trying to protest, but the gag muffled her words.
"Oh, I don't want to impose. I'm sure Meghan will call me back soon." Sonja replied, her voice hesitant.
"Nonsense, it's no imposition at all. In fact, Meghan could use a friend right about now. Couldn't you, Meghan?" Chrissy said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She held the phone up to Meghan's face, so Sonja could hear her muffled protests.
"Oh, that sounded hot." Sonja's voice was laced with curiosity and amusement. "Alright, I'll be there in ten. You're on the third floor, right?"
Chrissy hung up the phone and turned to Meghan, who was glaring at her with wide, panicked eyes. Meghan mumbled, trying to protest, but the gag muffled her words. Don't be like that. I think it's high time you had a visitor. A *friendly* visitor." Chrissy emphasized the word 'friendly', her eyes sparkling with amusement. "From what I heard in her voice, she will ask to get trussed up such as you."
"Mmmmmphf. Mmmmmphf!" Meghan mumbled, her eyes flashing with anger and embarrassment. She wriggled in her bonds, trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She couldn't believe Chrissy had just invited Sonja over, without her consent. She glared at Chrissy, her eyes narrowed into slits.
Chrissy, however, seemed completely unperturbed by Meghan's anger. She was humming to herself, tidying up the apartment, making sure everything was in order for Sonja's arrival. She moved around the room, her black combat boots clicking against the hardwood floor, her dark hair swaying with each movement.
Meghan watched her, her breath shallow, her body tense beneath the ropes. She could feel the heat of embarrassment burning her cheeks, the humiliation of being tied up and gagged, her best friend about to walk in on this.
Chrissy picked up a small, ornate mirror from the coffee table, holding it up to catch the light from the window. She turned to Meghan, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You know, Meghan, you look stunning like this. She adjusted the mirror, casting a dramatic shadow across Meghan's face.
Now, let's just wait for Sonja to arrive. She'll have a *great* time."
Meghan’s chest heaved against the ropes, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. She tried to shift her weight, but the couch was too firm, too unforgiving. The tape around her wrists burned slightly, the fabric of her blouse chafing against her skin. She could feel the dampness between her thighs, her body betraying her with an unwanted response to the humiliation.
Chrissy hummed softly, her fingers tracing the edge of the fake severed head on the coffee table. "You know, you’re really quite good at this.
Not just the acting, but the whole… *situation*." Chrissy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her dark eyeliner smudged just enough to look like she’d been crying—*for dramatic effect*, of course. "I mean, you’re not exactly a damsel in distress type. You’re more of a ‘I’ll stab you first’ kind of girl. But right now? You’re *perfect*."
Meghan’s eyes narrowed. The gag muffled whatever she might have said, but her glare was enough.
Somebody knocked on the door.
Meghan’s body tensed, every muscle locked in place. The sound was sharp, rhythmic—Sonja’s usual impatient knock, three quick raps followed by a pause, then two more. Chrissy’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as she turned away from Meghan and padded toward the door.
Meghan’s heart hammered against her ribs. *Sonja’s here. Sonja’s here and she’s going to see me like this.* The thought sent a wave of humiliation crashing through her, but beneath it, something else—something hot and tangled—coiled in her stomach.
Chrissy flung open the door before the second knock finished.
"Sonja, right on time!" she exclaimed, her voice warm and welcoming. Sonja stood in the doorway, her short blond hair slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed from the climb up the three flights of stairs. She was dressed in a mild purple silk blouse, a black latex pencil-skirt, and brown high-heeled boots—her usual power-dressing attire. Her eyes flicked past Chrissy, taking in the apartment with a quick, assessing glance.
"Chrissy," Sonja acknowledged with a nod, her gaze lingering on the *Halloween* posters and the *Scream* poster with its flickering knife logo. "Quaint," she commented, her voice cheerful.
She stepped inside, her boots clicking against the hardwood floor. "Meghan, you said you were busy with something creative? I brought wine." She held up a bottle of red wine, its label slightly smudged from the grip of her hand.
Chrissy took the bottle from Sonja and grinned. "Perfect timing. Meghan, you’re in for a treat." She winked at Sonja, who raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting back to Meghan on the couch. She tried to protest, but the gag muffled her words. She glared at Sonja, her eyes wide and pleading. Sonja’s expression softened as she saw Meghan’s predicament.
She set the bottle of wine down on the coffee table, her eyes widening as she took in the full scene—Meghan bound and gagged, her makeup smudged, her usually sleek hair disheveled. She turned to Chrissy, her eyes flashing with amusement. "Well, this is... unexpected."
Chrissy grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Isn't it, though? Meghan here was a bit late on her rent, so I offered her a deal. She helps me with my little... project, and I forget about the late payment."
Sonja chuckled, her gaze shifting back to Meghan. "Wow, girl. I didn't know you are into such kinky stuff." Sonja said, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she looked at Meghan. Meghan glared at her, her eyes flashing with embarrassment and anger. She tried to speak, to protest, but the gag muffled her words. She couldn't believe this was happening, that Sonja was seeing her like this.
Chrissy laughed, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, it's not as kinky as it looks. Meghan's just helping me with a little...
film project. You know, for my movie prop shop. I needed someone to play the damsel in distress, and Meghan here was just the right... candidate." Chrissy's gaze flicked back to Meghan, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Isn't that right, Meghan?"
Meghan glared at Chrissy, her eyes narrowing into slits. The ropes around her wrists and ankles were tight, the tape around her hands sticky and unyielding. "Mmmmmphf." she mumbled while rolling her eyes.
"I can't believe you, Chrissy. This is so unprofessional." Sonja chuckled, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she looked at Meghan. "Oh, come on, Meghan. You're always so serious. It's nice to see you let loose for once." She turned to Chrissy, her gaze appreciative. "And you, Chrissy, you have a real talent for this. The staging, the props... it's all very... atmospheric." Chrissy grinned, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Why, thank you, Sonja. I do try my best."
"Wow, Meghan, you look hot. Can I take a look at her bindings, Chrissy?" Sonja asked, her voice laced with curiosity. Chrissy nodded, stepping aside to give Sonja room. Sonja approached Meghan, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She reached out, her fingers tracing the rope around Meghan's wrists, her touch gentle. Meghan flinched at the contact, her eyes flashing with embarrassment and anger. She tried to jerk her hand away, but the ropes held her fast. Meghan mumbled, her eyes wide and pleading. She could feel the heat of humiliation burning her cheeks, her body tense beneath Sonja's touch.
"Mmmmphf," she mumbled, trying to protest, but her voice was muffled by the gag. Sonja's fingers lingered on the rope, her expression thoughtful. "These knots are really tight, Meghan. You must be in quite a pickle." She chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Chrissy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the interaction with a satisfied smirk. "Oh, she's not in a pickle, Sonja. She's in a *delicious* predicament." She winked at Sonja, who raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between Meghan and Chrissy.
Sonja turned to Meghan, her expression softening.
She leaned in, her breath warm against Meghan’s ear. "You know, Meghan," she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of Meghan’s jaw, "you’re always so guarded. So sharp. You look like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be." Her fingers slid down Meghan’s neck, her touch light but deliberate, almost reverent. "I can’t believe you let Chrissy tie you up like this."
Meghan’s body tensed, her breath catching as Sonja’s fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of her throat. She tried to pull away, but the ropes held her fast. Her eyes widened, her gaze darting between Sonja and Chrissy, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and something else—something hot and tangled. Sonja’s fingers continued their slow descent, tracing the outline of Meghan’s collarbone, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the circumstances.
Meghan’s glare, which had been a mix of anger and embarrassment, suddenly shifted. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze intensifying, and a silent fury ignited within her. She could feel the heat of it, like a flame licking at her insides, burning away the humiliation and leaving only a fierce, unyielding determination. She was not a damsel in distress, and she refused to be treated like one.
"Mmmmmmphf. Mmmmmmphf! MMMMMPHF!"
Sonja only giggled at Meghan's tantrum. "Oh Meghan, I won't untie you. Why would I do that?" Sonja asked, her voice laced with amusement. "You look so... *entertaining* like this." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "Besides, I think you owe Chrissy a favor. You know, for the late rent and all." Meghan's eyes flashed with anger, her body tensing against the ropes. She glared at Sonja, her gaze sharp and piercing. She couldn't believe Sonja was siding with Chrissy, that she was enjoying this. She tried to speak, to argue, but the gag muffled her words. She could feel the heat of humiliation burning her cheeks, her body betraying her with a traitorous shiver of excitement.
"Mmmmmphf!"
"This is really fun. Chrissy, would you tie me up too?" Sonja asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Meghan's eyes widened in shock, her gaze darting between Sonja and Chrissy. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Sonja, her best friend, was asking to be tied up? Just like that? She glared at Sonja, her eyes flashing with anger and betrayal.
Chrissy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Well, Sonja, I didn't expect you to be so... *eager* to participate. But I'm always up for a good time." She turned to Meghan, her gaze appreciative.
"You’re not the only one who can be a little *spontaneous*," Sonja said, her voice playful. "I’ve been meaning to try something like this for a while. Just never had the right partner." She winked at Chrissy, who grinned widely, her dark eyes gleaming with excitement.
Meghan’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Sonja, *what the hell*?" She tried to wriggle against the ropes, but they held firm. The gag muffled her words, but her glare was enough to convey her dismay.
Chrissy chuckled, her fingers tapping against the fake severed head on the coffee table.
"Oh, Meghan, don't be like that. It's not every day you get to see your best friend let loose and have some fun." She turned to Sonja, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "So, Sonja, what do you have in mind?"
Sonja grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Well, I was thinking... maybe you could tie me up like Meghan here. You know, just to see what it's like." She bit her lip, her gaze flicking between Chrissy and Meghan. "If that's okay with you, Meghan." She added, her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.
Meghan's eyes narrowed, her gaze shifting between Sonja and Chrissy. This was not how she had envisioned her night going. She had expected to come home from work, pour herself a glass of wine, and maybe catch up on some reading. She had not expected to find her landlord waiting for her, ready to tie her up and use her as a prop in her low-budget horror film. And she certainly had not expected her best friend to show up and ask to be tied up as well.
Finally, after some "mmmmphf"s and eye rolling, Meghan made a consenting nod to Sonja.
She was done fighting it. The humiliation was too much, the situation too absurd, and she was too tired to keep up the pretense.
Chrissy clapped her hands together, her dark eyeliner smudged just enough to look like she'd been crying—though Meghan knew it was all for effect. "Alright, team! Let’s get this show on the road!" she declared, her voice bubbling with excitement.
Sonja grinned, her blond hair catching the dim light from the window. "Okay, so first, what should I do, Chrissy?"
"How about stand up and turn your back towards me, then put your hands behind your back, your forearms parallel to each other." Chrissy instructed, her voice light and playful. She moved towards Sonja, her black combat boots clicking against the floor. Sonja followed the instructions, her posture graceful despite the sudden turn of events. Her purple silk blouse clung to her figure, the black latex pencil skirt accentuating her curves. The heels of her boots clicked softly against the floor as she positioned herself.
"Good girl," Chrissy murmured, her fingers deftly wrapping a length of rope around Sonja's wrists. Meghan watched, her eyes wide, a mix of disbelief and fascination in her gaze.
She couldn't believe Sonja was actually going through with this. Her best friend, the woman she trusted more than anyone, was letting herself be tied up by Chrissy. It was surreal, almost dreamlike.
Chrissy tied Sonja's wrists together with practiced ease, her fingers moving swiftly and deftly. "There we go," she said, stepping back to admire her work. "Perfect."
Sonja turned around, her hands bound behind her back. She looked at Meghan, her eyes filled with a mix of excitement and mischief. "What do you think, Meghan? Am I doing okay?" she asked, her voice light and playful.
"Mmmmmphf."
"You are such a tease, Meghan." Sonja chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she looked at Meghan. "You're all tied up and gagged, and you still can't help but be a smartass." Meghan glared at Sonja, her eyes flashing with anger and embarrassment. She couldn't believe Sonja was finding this amusing, that she was enjoying Meghan's humiliation. She wriggled against the ropes, trying to find a more comfortable position on the couch.
Chrissy, meanwhile, was busy getting more rope. "Now lets give you a nice and tight cross-chest box-tie too."
"Only if you describe me elaborately how you bind me in that cross-chest box-tie while you do it." Sonja added, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Chrissy grinned, her fingers already working on the rope.
"Alright, Sonja, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to start by wrapping the rope around your chest, just below your breasts. I want to make sure it's snug, but not too tight. We don't want to make you uncomfortable, after all." Chrissy's fingers moved swiftly, the rope sliding through them with a soft whisper. Meghan watched, her eyes wide, as Chrissy began to bind Sonja.
"Next, I'm going to bring the rope up and over your shoulders, crossing it at the back of your neck.
This will create a nice, secure box-tie after I connect the rope to your already bound wrists." Chrissy’s voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, as she guided the rope with practiced precision. Meghan's breath hitched. She could see the way Sonja’s shoulders tensed slightly, her fingers flexing against the bonds at her wrists.
"Now, I’m going to bring the rope back down, wrapping it around your chest again, just above your breasts this time." Chrissy’s fingers moved with deliberate care, the rope sliding against Sonja’s skin with a faint whisper. "See how it’s forming a little cradle for your breasts? Perfect." She adjusted the tension, her gaze flicking up to meet Sonja’s.
"How’s that feel? Too tight?" Sonja shook her head, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and anticipation. "No, it’s perfect. It’s... *intense*." Chrissy grinned, her fingers continuing their work. "That’s the idea. Now, I’m going to bring the rope around your back again, criss-crossing it over your chest, between you breasts. This will give you that nice, secure box-tie feel." She demonstrated, her fingers moving swiftly and deftly. Meghan watched, her breath shallow, as Sonja was slowly but surely bound. The ropes criss-crossed over Sonja's chest, the tension increasing with each pass.
Meghan watched, her eyes wide, as Chrissy's fingers worked deftly, the rope sliding through them with a soft whisper. Sonja's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, her chest heaving against the ropes. Meghan could see the way her best friend's body was responding, the way her nipples were hardening against the silk of her blouse, visible even through the layers of fabric and rope.
Chrissy stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "There," she said, her voice satisfied. "That should do it." Chrissy stepped back, her dark combat boots clicking against the hardwood floor. She turned to Sonja, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "How does that feel?"
Sonja’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. She glanced down at the ropes crisscrossing her chest, the way they pulled her breasts together, the fabric of her blouse straining against the tension. She swallowed hard, her gaze flicking up to meet Meghan’s.
Meghan’s green eyes were wide, her lips visibly pressed into a thin line under the layers of white tape. She tried to speak, but the gag muffled her words. Sonja giggled.
"It feels... *intense*, Chrissy. I can feel every inch of the rope, every tug and pull. It's like... it's like my body is alive in a way it's never been before." She shifted slightly, her bound wrists pressing against the small of her back. "I feel... *exposed*. Vulnerable. But also... *safe*. Does that make sense?"
Chrissy nodded, her dark eyes softening. "It does. That's the beauty of this, Sonja. It's about trust. About letting go of control, just a little bit. So, ready for what's next?"
"Of course!" Sonja replied, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "What's next, Chrissy?"
Chrissy grinned, her fingers already reaching for the roll of microfoam tape. "Now we make sure your curious fingers wouldn't bother those snug knots around your body. I'm gonna wrap and seal your fists closed." Chrissy's voice was light, almost musical, as she pulled out a roll of black microfoam tape. "Don't worry, it'll be comfy. Just like a little glove." She reached out, her fingers brushing Sonja's wrist before gently pressing the tape over her knuckles. "There we go. Nice and snug." Sonja's breath hitched as the tape adhered to her skin, the coolness of the material contrasting with the heat of her body.
Sonja watched, fascinated, as Chrissy's fingers worked, the tape wrapping around her left wrist, around and around, until her fist was completely encased. It felt strange, this sensation of being bound, of being unable to move her fingers, to clench her hand. It was a feeling of restriction, yes, but also a feeling of... security. Of being held, of being cared for. "That should keep your curious fingers in check." She turned to Sonja's other hand, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Now, let's do the same for your other hand." Sonja swallowed hard, her breath coming in quick, shallow breaths. She could feel the anticipation building within her, a mix of excitement and nervousness.
Chrissy worked swiftly, her fingers deft and sure as she wrapped the tape around Sonja's right wrist, sealing her fist shut. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork.
Sonja looked down at her hands, her bound wrists pressed together against her back, her fingers sealed inside the microfoam tape. She felt a strange combination of vulnerability and exhilaration. It was like she was being held together by something external, something that wasn't her own control.
And it was... liberating. She looked up at Chrissy, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "Thank you, Chrissy. This is... this is amazing."
Chrissy grinned, her dark eyes softening. "You're welcome, Sonja. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Now try your bindings, can you get free, Sonja?"
"I can surely try." Said Sonja with a grin.
She shifted her weight, her bound hands pressing against the small of her back, the ropes and tape creating a strange, almost erotic tension across her body.
Meghan watched, her eyes flicking between Sonja and Chrissy, her jaw clenched under the gag. The ropes around her own wrists were tight, the tape around her mouth sticky and suffocating. She tried to speak, to argue, but all that came out was a muffled *"mmmmphf."* The situation was absurd, humiliating—yet somehow, she couldn’t look away.
Chrissy leaned in, her voice low and playful. "Alright, Sonja, let’s see if you can break free.
Chapter excerpt truncated at the edge.