|by Lobo De La Sombra|
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|© Copyright 2016 - Lobo De La Sombra - Used by permission|
|Storycodes: Solo-F; FF/f; follow; house; wardrobe; discovery; taser; shock; strip; naked; bond; wrap; chairtie; gag; lesb; cons/reluct; X||
|Girl Time 1: Discovery Lobo De La Sombra Solo-F; FF/f; follow; house; wardrobe; discovery; taser; shock; strip; naked; bond; wrap; chairtie; gag; lesb; cons/reluct; X|
Girl Time 1: Discovery
For Carol, the time had come to solve a mystery. Myra and Sandy had been her best friends for longer than she cared to remember, and still there were things she didn't know. Where did the two of them vanish to when they spent their mysterious weekends together? What did they do? And why did they never invite her? Now, after too long wondering, she'd decided it was time to find out.
The first question was answered with an almost disappointing level of ease. Carol had simply followed them. Of course, easy didn't automatically translate to cheap. Carol's car, a restored 1969 Road Runner, was almost impossible to miss, especially with its bright red paint job. Which meant she'd had to rent a car. With the expense in mind, it was almost with disappointment that she watched her friends climb from Myra's car in front of the isolated old house she'd inherited from her parents. Myra had been restoring the old place for years, making Carol wonder if these mysterious weekends were some sort of DIY project the two were working together.
So where had been answered, she thought, and probably what. Which still begged the question of why they'd never included her in their handyman weekends. All the way back to high school, the three of them had done everything together. So why not this? Frowning, Carol decided it was time to find out.
Still, it wouldn't do to just barge in and demand answers. Much better, she decided, to sneak in and see exactly what her friends were up to. Then, once she was sure, then she could confront them. With this in mind, Carol drove up the road to the next house, which happened to be empty. After hiding her rental inside the crumbling barn, she made the nearly mile long walk back to Myra's house, where an unlocked rear window soon granted her access.
Once inside, Carol had to move carefully. It was still a couple hours till sunset, but the old house sat in the midst of a copse of trees, shading it from direct sunlight. This, plus the thick drapes on the windows, allowed only a little light into the room. Slowly, she made her way around the sparse furniture, gradually homing in on the door.
In the hallway, she could faintly hear the murmur of voices coming from the front of the house. Carefully, she slipped along the hall, the voices growing louder until she could plainly hear what was being said.
"So, when do we start?"
Carol heard a laugh that could only come from Sandy. "Not until tonight, you know that. For now, relax, get settled in. In a bit, we'll get something to eat."
"But why do we have to wait?" Myra's voice sounded almost pleading. "Why do we always have to wait?"
"Those," came the reply, "are the rules. You remember the rules, don't you?"
"Ok," Myra said, her voice unhappy. "If we have to wait, we might as well eat."
Hearing this, Carol nodded. If they were going to eat, that would give her time to look around. Turning, she made her way back toward the rear of the house. There, she remembered form a previous visit, lay what had once been considered the servants stairs. No better time to check upstairs, she thought, than while I know they're busy downstairs.
As she climbed the stairs, Carol mentally reviewed what she knew about the house. It was, she remembered, a remnant from another age. Downstairs, the front of the house contained the larger rooms, the living room, parlor, dining room, and an office. The rear of the house held the kitchen, along with a warren of smaller room, mostly used for storage. On the second floor were the family bedrooms, while the third floor, the attic, held the much smaller servants' quarters. Myra, she knew, wanted to restore the house and its furnishings to what they had been back in the days when it was an important manor house.
Not surprisingly, the first rooms Carol looked into were empty, the walls stripped to the bare beams. Obviously, her friends had decided to start here. Other rooms showed no sign of work done, leaving her to wonder why so little had been accomplished. Finally, she opened the door to the master bedroom, only to pause at what she saw.
Unlike the other rooms, this one was decidedly not empty. Carol stared at the large bed, its frame and posts made from thick and obviously heavy wood. At its head, a sturdy wooden chair was placed to either side. Against one wall stood a wardrobe, while a bureau stood next to it. On the walls, traces of faded wallpaper still showed between patches of cracked plaster.
Curious, Carol opened the wardrobe, eyes widening at what she found. On one side, the wardrobe was filled with outfits, but these were not like any she'd ever seen, much less worn. The smells of rubber and leather seemed to ooze from the shiny surfaces that softly reflected the light. It took her several minutes to pull her gaze away and focus on the other side of the wardrobe.
Here, the back wall had been turned into a pegboard, long rods protruding in an irregular pattern. From some of these rods dangled coils of rope, while the items hanging from other rods defied her best attempts at identification. Now what, she thought, did all of this have to do with remodelling a house?
As she stared, Carol thought she heard something behind her. She began to turn, only to tense as pain suddenly erupted from between her shoulder blades. For a second, her whole body seemed to radiate pain, before darkness mercifully closed in, shutting off all sensation.
At first, there was only a throbbing sensation, low, rhythmic, powerful, the kind that would have made her head pound if she had one. Strangely, there was no head, no body, only that throbbing. Slowly, the throbbing swelled, gradually forming a shape that became her head, a head filled with pain. Still the throbbing grew, moving downward to form her neck, her shoulders. It was as if her body were being reformed in pain. Eventually, she was aware of her entire body, and every bit of it hurt.
Gradually, she became aware of other sensations, like a soft pressure against eyes that refused to open, leaving her world dark and empty. By contrast, her mouth refused to close, and it felt anything but empty. Oddly, a memory flashed into her mind from her childhood. It was Halloween, and her mother had told her she could only have one bite of the candy she'd collected. Her response had been to stuff her mouth as full as she could, making it impossible even to chew. This felt something like that, except this was dry, rough, not soft and sweet.
As she pondered this, sound began to make its way into her awareness, voices that slowly became understandable.
"So why did you stun her?"
"She's not supposed to be here. Did you know she was coming over?"
"No. Did you?"
"If I'd known she'd be here, I wouldn't have stunned her."
"So why did you stun her?"
"Because I didn't know it was her."
"And how did she get like this?"
"Um, I found her that way?"
She heard a soft laugh. "Her? Are you saying she just showed up here naked? And maybe she just happened to use all of our saran wrap to wrap herself to the chair?"
"Well, ok, maybe I did that part, but I didn't invite her. Did you?"
"I think we covered that already. What I want to know is why you did this?"
As the voices continued, recognition began to filter through the throbbing in her head. The assertive, questioning voice was Sandy's, while Myra belonged to the defensive tones. What they were saying, however, made no sense. Naked? Wrapped? She did seem to be seated, and something did seem to be pulled against the front of her body, drawing her against what felt like wood. What, she wondered, was going on here?
Suddenly, she felt the pressure against her eyes vanish. Carefully, she cracked them open, only to wince as the sudden rush of light brought back the slowly fading throb. As her eyes, and her mind, continued to clear, she gazed silently at the pair of figures in front of her.
Sandy. Short, slender, the mind of a genius in the body that looked barely past puberty. Throughout high school, throughout college, her overly youthful appearance had kept far too many from recognizing the brilliance that lay behind those innocent eyes.
And Myra. Tall, lush, her dusky skin and abundant curves made her the very image of the exotic beauty. Like Sandy, Myra's looks, along with her overly impulsive personality, hid from all but the most discerning eyes a mind nearly as brilliant as that of her shorter friend.
Her vision cleared, Carol glanced down at herself. Her own body, its medium height and build somewhere between her two friends, was indeed encased in some kind of clear plastic. She struggled to move, but the plastic, tightly wound around both her and the chair, held her immobile. Looking up, she tried to speak, but only soft, muffled grunts emerged from whatever filled her mouth.
"Carol," Sandy said softly, "I am sorry about this, but you know how carried away Myra can get at times. Thing is, she's been bursting to tell you our little secret, see if we could talk you into joining us. You may not know it, but she's had a secret crush on you for the longest time. But we weren't sure if you would accept our little games here, and we didn't want to scare you away. That's why we've never asked you to join us on our weekends."
Sandy glanced toward Myra. "A few years ago," she said, turning her attention back toward Carol, "Myra and I discovered we shared certain... enjoyments. Back in college, it was simple. We enjoyed each other, so we became lovers. Later, after she got this house, we discovered another aspect to our relationship."
Sandy smoled softly. "It just happened," she went on. "We were here, just beginning to work on this house. You were in Europe at the time, so it was just the two of us. I was trying to sketch the woodworking around one of the doors to see if I could replicate it, but Myra was in a playful mood that day. She started sneaking up behind me and tickling me. And," she added with a grin, "she knows all of my ticklish spots. I asked her to stop several times, but she just kept on. Finally, I grabbed some rope and tied her up, just to get some peace."
She frowned softly. "It was strange. The more she squirmed, the more rope I added. And the more rope, the more she squirmed. And the more turned on we both got." She shrugged. "Those sketches never did get finished, and we added bondage to our love play. Now we work on the house through the day, and each other at night."
She turned away. "We thought about telling you," she said, moving to the bureau and rummaging within the top drawer, "but we weren't sure how you'd respond. The three of us have been friends for so long, and both of us would hate to lose that friendship with you." Turning, she gestured with the pair of scissors she now held in one hand. "I think the world of you, I hope you know that. And Myrna..." She smiled. "I seriously think she fell in love with you the instant she saw you, before she even knew what she was feeling or why. I do know there's nothing she wouldn't do to make you happy."
Moving to stand beside Carol, she shook her head. "But this," she said, raising the scissors, "took things too far. I can understand her stunning you, if she really didn't know who you were, but stripping you and wrapping you to a chair? That part will take some explaining, I think. Either way, I really hope you don't hate us for this. First, let's get you out of this."
Sandy reached over Carol's shoulder, and she felt something cold slip beneath the upper edge of the plastic holding her helpless. Suddenly, Sandy stiffened, her eyes widening. After a second, her eyes closed, her body sliding limp to the floor. Behind her, a smiling Myrna lowered her stun gun.
"I love her, you know," she told Carol softly, "I really do. But sometimes she just talks way too much. And she promised me we could play after we ate." Still smiling at Carol, she reached down and grasped Sandy's wrists. "Well," she added, grunting softly as she began to drag the unconcious woman toward the bed, "we ate before I found you, which means now it's time to play."
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story continued in part two
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