The Pianist's Abduction (MF/F)

[AlexUSA3]

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A light-hearted one-shot to enjoy

Muses 5: The Pianist’s Abduction!
Saturday, April 06, 2019

I sit on the sofa with a Differential Equations book on the coffee table. It is light work for me, and I am blessed with two lovely forms of entertainment while I do the dull task. Before me, on the TV, my landlord, Chris, has a sports event on mute. On the wall, my landlady, Nichole, plays her piano, a true source of joy in this house as I have grown to properly appreciate her talents and to have some favorites of my own. I find that her piano relaxes me at times like now.

“This one is Schumann’s First Piano Sonata,” the Gangsta Queen turns and winks at me.
“Oh, I like that one!” one of the few pieces I committed to my mind because few interested me.

I sit and listen with a careful ear. Nichole and I have been friends for almost two years, but I’ve been her and her husband’s roommate only for 8 months. During that time, she and I have grown very close, until I felt I could tell her anything without judgment. We freely discuss all things in love and friendship. I am a Gangsta Row, but she is a Gangsta Queen.

Gangsta? What’s a Gangsta? Don’t you know the Cool Girls’ Club? Well, we’re Cool Girls, for a start. The vows of love and friendship changed my life. I love Nichole, and she provides much love and warmth I miss because I am so far from my mother. We both love TUGs and bandanas, hence the “Gangsta” nicknames. We’re as dangerous as cuddle toys though.

My favorite is when Nichole wears her blue camouflage bandana as a headband. She has a mood she wears with it. Ever since the Mood Ring Experiment in 2017, she wears it when she’s feeling playful and happy. I love her like this because it’s a mood where she’s most likely to express genuine affection for friends or Chris and is the most adventurous. It’s the mood where she’s likely to initiate a TUG with me. She’s a girl who cannot hide these things, much as she tries, and we both love her in our own ways.

We love TUGs around here and play them from super dirty to super clean. Today’s story is about a clean TUG. Obviously. You’re in the Stories for Everyone section, correct? That’s what I thought. Even Chris and Nichole sometimes just play simple TUGs, and what a beautiful thing it is to witness their genuine love. They’re just crazy about each other and can make a K-cup pod a beautiful act of romance and affection. Nichole writes in a very clinical, detached style, but she’s a very complicated woman with deep emotions. Look at her at the piano. She is so talented.

I look up at the TV for a moment, and I catch Chris standing up with a slow, smooth motion, like a rower. The story of how they met is so adorable that I sometimes spoil it by telling it since I’ve been told it at least 10 times by Nichole herself. Despite being a chemical engineer, Nichole was a physics lab assistant for her work-study job. Chris could see something different about the girl who worked during his lab, the girl who always wore a bandana. First, he talked to her. Then he found himself making excuses to walk through and peer through the window to see what she was doing, if she was on duty at all. Next, he found himself talking to her for an hour. Then, a date.

“GMMMMMMM!” Chris, in a flash, hand-gags his wife during the slow movement.
“Ha ha ha! Gotcha!” he wraps his arm around her and kisses her on top of her head.

The icy blue turtleneck is not going to protect Nichole any longer. She is much too weak from her awful experiences to ever fight back against me let alone her husband. The outfit she wears is classic Nichole, though, with the navy sweats, icy blue socks, and white canvas sneakers. It’s a comfortable, welcoming style even if one borne from desperation as a child. She’s at peace in her life, though, the once agnostic girl, rejected by her own, found friendship, romance, and faith through the CGC. Oh, the stories I’ve been told, but I will not spoil any more of Nichole’s story. Such is for those who lived the moments to tell you. I might get the details wrong.

“Christian David Petersen, ha ha haaaaaa! You got me,” Nichole laughs when he lets her speak.
“I’ve been sneaking up on you with happy surprises since the day I first saw you,” he smiles.
“Ohhhhhhh, Chris, I’m gonna be snug as a bug in a rug. Will I be a cuddle toy tonight?”
“I suspect you will,” he has a piece of Nichole’s favorite white rope and genuine happiness.
“Ahhh,” I finally interject in the moment, “Young love. You two are the cutest ever.”
“Say, Sammy, would you help me out of this?” Nichole asks me while her crossed wrists are tied.
“Me? Oh, no! I might cuddle with you and ask you Diff E-Q questions though just to bore you.”

Crossed wrists is Nichole’s favorite way to be bound. She’s not a flexible girl by any means, so she receives lots of boxties and crossed-wrist ties. She’s got a twinkle in her eye that says that it is the perfect night for such a surprise. Ah, oh well, so long Schumann. The rope wraps slowly and carefully, Chris savoring every moment of it since Nichole cannot get away without using a tactic more appropriate for a real kidnapping. This is a game, and we’re all laughing while I do my easy and often dull homework. I love being a meteorology major though, math and all!

Once Nichole’s wrists are tied, Chris spins her around, wraps his arms around her, and pulls her tightly against himself while they exchange a sweet, loving kiss. Those kisses always feature in their games, whether it’s fun like this or a transition to the bedroom. It speaks to how much my landlady loves me that she permits me to be a part of their lives despite them once having their own apartment. Opportunity arose, and Nichole offered me the chance to be part of the journey. I’ve had no regrets, and I’m happy to be her friend, confidante, and witness.

I’ll consider my own outfit for just a moment. It’s so bright and happy, like I feel today. Yes, the results of the Mood Ring Experiment stayed with me permanently and are ingrained in me with a multitude of good reasons. The bright blue I wear in my socks and my sweatpants is a matter of coordinating my outfit. The navy blue Minnesota Tech Lady Eagles shirt is a matter of showing off my joy at being a member of the school’s student body and its women’s rowing team, but my patternless bright blue tiedye bandana, which I lovingly refer to as “cloudy” or “meteorologist’s blue” because the splotches of white? Now that is me showing my playful happiness. Why does my outfit matter when Chris is using a piece of white rope to tie Nichole’s ankles together? Wellllllll, there’s a good reason for this. I’m thinking about lending a hand to their game.

“Samantha Evangelina Räänta, what would Momma say if she saw you sitting there watching me like this?” Nichole asks me with cheeky faux-righteous indignation.
“She’d say,” I then clear my throat and imitate my mother’s voice and Russian accent with total perfection, “‘Samantha, take off your socks. Give them to Chris,’ or something like that.”
“Sammy!” Nichole doubles over in laughter because it’s true that Momma plays TUGs with me.
“Well,” I playfully pull my socks off my feet, “don’t act like she wouldn’t!” and stand up.
“Oh, Sammy,” the curly brunette looks at me with a sly grin, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, she’d better dare,” Chris laughs at this hilarious interaction, “I want her to dare.”
“I’d dare,” I monotonically say with a shrug and stuff one sock and then the other in her mouth.
“Mmmmmmm,” she makes the funniest face when the taste of my cheesy socks hits her tongue.

Chris hands me a white rope, and I shrug with a sly grin of my own. I wasn’t participating, but I received an invitation from first Nichole and now Chris. Chris has tied Nichole’s knees together and is working on her thighs. I take the rope and use it to create a harness. For TUG players of all ages and styles, a harness is really the most indispensable part after the natural bindings of the wrists and ankles in whatever matters are chosen. The harness has a certain look to it, but for me it’s the thing that really keeps the arms tight against the body to restrict the motion.

Then I realize that Nichole is trying to spit out the socks because I forgot to do anything besides stuff my socks in her mouth. I use a hand, stuff them in her mouth, and then, like Momma, I just put a finger on her lips, which is enough to tell her without words: Don’t spit it out, or else. Now a girl like Nichole will often stop, like she does; I’m a girl who wants to know what “else” means and deliberately pushes that line. Nichole, however, lets me finish the harness without putting up a fight. I choose a navy bandana and use it as a cleave gag for Nichole; I think you’ll look at her and agree that navy is a good choice for her outfit. Tonight, I decide that tape’s not necessary. It isn’t necessary to tape someone’s mouth when you know they don’t want to spit the gag out.

“Well, well,” I monotonically tease my landlady, “Someone’s a little trussed up. Da? Nyet?”
“Mmmm,” I can tell she’s relaxing in the moment, enjoying herself and the intimacy of it all.
“You’ve done your job very well,” Chris hands me another rope, “Wanna tie her waist?”
“Oh, all right,” I smile brightly, but my tone remains the same, “Since you asked.”
“Someone’s a helpless pianist. I always wondered why she played so much Schumann for me.”
“Oh?” I perk my ears up, and there’s a curiosity in my tone, “I’m curious to hear from you.”
“Well, it was before her 21st birthday and the attack…,” the shift in his tone was detectable.

That’s when Chris gave me a rare insight into his own view of their romance. Robert Schumann weaved little love poems into music for his wife, Clara. Their love never wavered until Robert’s mental health deteriorated, bringing a charming tale to an end with his eventual death. Nichole’s brilliance was so obvious now. She was playing Schumann to tell Chris, “My life is falling apart, but I love you more every day.” Sadly, it all came true; Nichole’s own brother tried to kill her. I am happy to say, though, that Chris and Nichole married and wrote their own love story after. It is such a happy moment we are sharing, and I love getting these insights into their marriage.

Who knew that romantic love could be so profound? These two are so adorable, and watching a bound and gagged Nichole squirm while sitting on the piano bench is a sight that deserves what a Cool Girl does best: take pictures and a video and upload it to the CGC private Facebook group! It’s but an ordinary night here in the apartment just off the campus of Minnesota Tech: friends at home having fun. Tonight’s game is a kidnapping TUG, but not all TUGs are kidnapping TUGs, nor are all kidnapping TUGs like this. Why I’ve had Nichole put a water pistol to my back, and I’ve much more aggressively nabbed Nichole upon her own request as part of a night of passion in the bedroom with Chris. We do it all here, but we’re all friends. Beautiful friendship. This is a home away from home. Nichole isn’t Momma, but she’s special in her own way.

“Mmmmmmm,” I maintain my typical monotonic tone, “I bet that tastes so good, right?”
“Noooo,” is about the only real word she can say with my socks in her mouth, “Mmmmmm!”
“Ha ha!” keeping the tone while smirking and laughing is so me, and I enjoy her fake anger.
“Nmmmmm!” she shakes her head and therefore her brown curls and stomps the floor.
“I’m so sorry, but Chris here has told me that I’m to use you as a body pillow tonight.”
“You enjoy your stuffie,” Chris winks at us, “The happiness is payoff enough for me.”
“Oh, I have a Sarah Nichole Petersen stuffie all to myself,” I hug her and even pick her up.

I’m a bit strong, strong enough to pick up Nichole. Of course, I’m a 5’9” rower, and she’s just a 5’4” girl with a spindly frame. It’s not too impressive on my part, but I accept it. I carry her to the sofa and sit her on the cushion next to where I was sitting, and sit down, crossed-legged like before, and I tie a rope to her harness and knot it around my right wrist, my non-dominant wrist, so I can reel her back in if she tries to hop away while still having my left hand to write Diff E-Q homework answers on my piece of so-called “green engineering paper.”

Nichole quietly squirms in the ropes that bind her, knowing very well that she’s trapped and now all mine. We have this way of knowing things and doing things on purpose. I tethered her to my wrist, so she intentionally stands up and gives a tug on the leash. I smoothly yank on the leash, and she involuntarily jerks back down to sitting on the sofa. It’s so natural that you’d think we’d had moments just like this almost weekly in our 8 months as roommates.

I know she loved the linear algebra part of the course and hated the Diff E-Q part itself, so I just start quietly reading off the homework questions to her as if I expect her to answer them for me despite the ropes and gag. She angrily talks into my cheesy bright blue socks, which I can still see despite the navy blue bandana cleave gag that’s holding them in her mouth. An eye roll is a fun way to express her contempt for the material and the course she took 3 years before this. I’m done with the homework, though, and I put the completed page into my chaotic and disorganized notebook, a source of much anxiety for Nichole, and put the notebook back into my backpack.

“Mmmmmmmm,” Nichole looks at me pitifully and squirms in the ropes that bind her.
“Now, now, now,” I wrap an arm around her, pull her across my lap, and ruffle her curls.
“Mmmmmmmm,” she is so at home like this, twisting and turning in a happy TUG.
“This is nothing like those brutal films you make with those other girls, hmmm?” I tease her.
“Sammy,” Chris says with a laugh, “I just love the robotic way you speak sometimes.”
“OH!” I ironically brighten at that, “I’m glad my natural self makes you both feel comfortable!”

It’s funny that we Cool Girls always have bandana themed nicknames, if any at all. Then again, the bandana is the Club symbol, and it stands for our vows of unconditional love and friendship. I knew something special was going to happen the day I met Nichole, and there has indeed been much growth since then. Nichole has helped me through the collegiate experience and even has guided me through the pain of the mistake of having an affair with my boyfriend.

Having her like this, helpless and unable to defend herself, is a gift I know not to misuse. She’s a good friend, and there are so many ways I could up the ante, especially using her sneakers or her own socks. Some nights we do such things, but tonight I am going to let her stay the way she is to maintain a light and playful atmosphere. Tickling and spanking are reasonable, too, but TUGs sometimes just call for grabbing the big thick blanket, because it’s cold out, lying lengthwise on the sofa like it’s a bed, squeezing Nichole between me and the back of the sofa, and pulling the blanket to cover us both. Nichole and Chris belong to each other in God’s eyes via marriage, but in friendship, Chris and I joyfully share her because we both love the Gangsta Queen.

Sarah Nichole Peterson, we love you and the little ways you use Schumann to say “I love you.”

THE END

[LunaDog]

A light-hearted one-shot to enjoy

Which i did, thank you very much.

[Caesar73]

“Samantha Evangelina Räänta, what would Momma say if she saw you sitting there watching me like this?” Nichole asks me with cheeky faux-righteous indignation.
“She’d say,” I then clear my throat and imitate my mother’s voice and Russian accent with total perfection, “‘Samantha, take off your socks. Give them to Chris,’ or something like that.”
“Sammy!” Nichole doubles over in laughter because it’s true that Momma plays TUGs with me.
“Well,” I playfully pull my socks off my feet, “don’t act like she wouldn’t!” and stand up.
“Oh, Sammy,” the curly brunette looks at me with a sly grin, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, she’d better dare,” Chris laughs at this hilarious interaction, “I want her to dare.”
“I’d dare,” I monotonically say with a shrug and stuff one sock and then the other in her mouth.
“Mmmmmmm,” she makes the funniest face when the taste of my cheesy socks hits her tongue.

Let me start with this: It is one of those cute Moments the Story is so full off. And playing Schumann is a wonderful way to say "I love you" - Schumann knew something about the Hardships of Love. He had to fight for his Clara because Clara´s Father obstructed their Love. But both pulled through in the End.

[AlexUSA3]

“Samantha Evangelina Räänta, what would Momma say if she saw you sitting there watching me like this?” Nichole asks me with cheeky faux-righteous indignation.
“She’d say,” I then clear my throat and imitate my mother’s voice and Russian accent with total perfection, “‘Samantha, take off your socks. Give them to Chris,’ or something like that.”
“Sammy!” Nichole doubles over in laughter because it’s true that Momma plays TUGs with me.
“Well,” I playfully pull my socks off my feet, “don’t act like she wouldn’t!” and stand up.
“Oh, Sammy,” the curly brunette looks at me with a sly grin, “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, she’d better dare,” Chris laughs at this hilarious interaction, “I want her to dare.”
“I’d dare,” I monotonically say with a shrug and stuff one sock and then the other in her mouth.
“Mmmmmmm,” she makes the funniest face when the taste of my cheesy socks hits her tongue.

Let me start with this: It is one of those cute Moments the Story is so full off. And playing Schumann is a wonderful way to say "I love you" - Schumann knew something about the Hardships of Love. He had to fight for his Clara because Clara´s Father obstructed their Love. But both pulled through in the End.

It is so subtle, really. Now, when I chug stories into ChatGPT to test its response, I usually only do so with my "film" stories so it can tell me which parts can be worded better so as not to be graphic or insensitive. It's usual complaint about Nichole is that she's "detached and clinical," but she is as far from such things as possible in reality. In truth, Nichole is a woman driven by her emotions even if she's logical in how she is driven by them.

And by introducing Robert and Clara in this manner I provide a slight commentary for the music aficionados without disrupting the flow.

[hafnermg]

A lovely one shot!!

[uglymofo]

Love it! Great story man!