Game Night: Red Dead Wasteland
Saturday, February 11, 2023
TRIGGER ALERT: If reading tales in which beautiful girls play video games, get bound and gagged, and possibly have their tits exposed is disturbing to you, then this story might not be for you. If you realize it's only consensually agreed rules of punishment regarding said girls playing Red Dead Online with a TUG twist and all about humiliation, read on.
"OK, first things first," Destiny holds her hands up like stop signs, "Taylor wastings don't count."
"F-ck you!" Taylor says from the comfort of her own home, "It's my fault I waste you all night?"
"I'm taking Destiny's side, especially since she wastes me more than you," Jackie adds.
"Doesn't mean you can't waste us, though," my awesome Twin, Liz, contributes.
"As much of a serial killer like you as I may aspire to be," Felice is clearly glaring at Taylor even if through a camera, "You kill each of us twice for every one time any of us kills you."
"OK," Taylor rolls her eyes and laughs, "I've only done four 100% playthroughs of RDR2."
Only.
The premise is simple. When you get wasted, you get a bond. We can play long and hard, so we have some flexibility in what happens and allow some customization so long as the count works in the end. Five leg bonds, a crotch rope, a gag, and exposure are what you get for eight lives, in a video game sense, and you're out after your ninth wasting. That might be 20 minutes or 3 and a half hours. It all depends upon the night, but there are rules. Seriously.
- You cannot waste the same opponent twice in a row.
- A person cannot be wasted by the same opponent twice in a row
- Wastings must be weaponless but cruel—fed to gators, tied on a train track, thrown off a cliff, etc. You may use weapons to achieve this, but the wasting must be weaponless.
- All wastings that do not follow rules #1–3 do not count towards bondage.
"Why you being a f-cking cl-t, Felice?" Xandra knows all the words and then some.
"I love hearing your curses when I sssssslay you," Felice coos, throwing Xandra off a cliff.
"C-nt!" where did Xandra learn such horrible language anyway? Seriously. She's a potty mouth.
"Nice. Time for your first rope, sweetie," Michela acts like Xandra's her girlfriend instead of her straight best friend, "I'm gonna start with the crotch rope. Make you frantic faster."
"Mick," Destiny laughs so loudly we could hear her without the video chat, "You're a doll."
"Ennnnnnnjoy, Michela," that dominatrix tone makes Felice seem so nefarious, yeah?
We looked at each other. Quiet texts went around. Michela is one of the few girls whose outfit is so beautiful that it must be mentioned or so help me God. Black combat boots are a bit odd with white knee socks that add innocent charm, a pastel yellow soft cotton knee-skirt that is thoroughly chic, a cream button-down three-quarter sleeve blouse that fits her curves perfectly and has pastel-toned pinstripes for provocative femininity, and a black bandana headband for that Cool Girl tough girl edge. Tonight, her bandana is an inferior Western paisley pattern. The best girls wear only classic paisley. Not Felice and Liz—losers. Michela? Voluntary loser. Destiny, Sammy, Jackie, and I? Babes. Taylor and Xandra? Bandana-less bozos.
And those texts? Wellllllllllllllllll… Muaaaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaa!
"Destiny, you cowardly b-tch!" Xandra howled before she was fed to an alligator.
"You're a sh-thead, Leah Ralston!" she was aghast while I trampled her with a horse.
"Jacqueline. not you too?!?!" she wailed when dropped on a train track to go splat.
"P-ssies, all of you!" she giggled when she realized our plan, becoming gator lunch.
"Taylor, you f-cking savage," she calmly laughed before getting thrown in a pond.
"Ahhh, the dominatrix returns," she sighed when Felice burned her alive?
"Gmmmmmmm!" was all she could say while the swine ate her.
"Hrmph. Mmph! Humph! Hrrrrrmph! Mmmmmm! Auugggghhh! Grrrrr!" Alexandra cried out loudly from a savage strappado. Michela used freaking coated speaker wire to tie the girl who, by the way, is her best friend. Now, I kind of hinted that Michela is lesbian, maybe bisexual, maybe asexual—I don't know—but she's giggling while holding Xandra's face against her own bosom. Xandra is straight as an arrow and a likely candidate for an STD, if you catch my drift, but she's steady with one guy now. Still, she's in just her pink panties and is bound at her ankles, knees, lower thighs, upper thighs, wrists, and elbows. She has a simple and ineffective chest harness that serves as the anchor because the strappado goes from her wrists to the ceiling and down to the harness. Remember: Xandra knew this might happen to her.
All right. Our little texting circle works wicked wonders, but it means that at any moment we all could surreptitiously work against one girl just like we worked together against Xandra. Xandra is a warrior, having her own socks stuffed in her mouth (yuck!) under eight layers of yellow duct tape that were wrapped by Michela. Need more? Michela stands at 5' 9" and played scholarship level hockey in college. Yeah. Seriously. And she's such a strong girl on the inside that she only went to juvenile detention for 45 months because she kneecapped her dad, who systematically abused her for 10 months. Whoever filed those charges was a creep. That's why Xandra and Michela now work as lawyers in the juvenile justice system. Xandra's a good girl; not even any traffic violations on her record. Still, back to the bondage, that hockey star is hand spanking Xandra while awaiting the next task she has for Felice, Destiny, or Jackie. We love Michela. I think the hockey player and survivor contexts you know those tape wraps are super tight.
"Hrmmmph!" Xandra grunts, but Michela knows she has all night to cherish their friendship and leaves the captive to suffer for 20-40 minutes, depending on how long she handles the strappado.
"Gag talk is like a drug," Felice takes a deep breath, "Who wants to become gator food now?"
"Hey, Mich, don't forget to grab Xandra's tits before you leave," Destiny cackles into her headset.
"I haven't," Michela eagerly follows the suggestion, "Just setting up the cam so we can watch."
"I think you're going to be eaten next," Jackie fires a round into Felice's kneecap.
"Such a vagabond," Felice says with a hint of glee, "Girls like Jackie are more fun to gag."
"Sorry, she's mine," Liz just as quickly kneecaps Jackie and steals Felice, "Gator lunch time."
Felice rolls her eyes and adjusts her red inferior Western paisley bandana. Honestly, while I pick on inferior Western paisley bandanas, Felice looks better with the floral pattern. It has a joyous bit of femininity to it, and she embodies the outlaw spirit well. Ironic considering she is a cop! There is so much depth to her eyes, depth that cannot be put into words. Inside her dominatrix personality is a girl who is beautiful and sensitive to other's feelings. Even while she enjoys stuffing her socks in your mouth, at the same time she'd be ruined if she really hurt someone. Domination is a bondage love letter that expresses the words she can't say.
This is why we use video chat to communicate while playing. Alexandra goes from playing Red Dead Online with us to being gagged and tied in a speaker wire strappado on the same camera view and even still wearing her headset. It's beautiful, really, and Michela leaves Xandra back in Felice's bedroom to suffer and soon appears on Felice's camera to jam a 2 inch orange ball gag in Felice's mouth and to padlock it in place. First wasting for Felice gets a gag! That's Michela's personality at work, though. I think I have to explain things.
Destiny, Felice, and Jackie are housemates, splitting the rent equally. They have desks in each of their bedrooms for their own use, and they have a roundtable setup in the den where the three of them can sit together. In theory, they can have up to six girls in their house playing at once, and Xandra likes to be in the house when TUGs are involved because she lives by herself. In the corner of our computer screens, we now have the amusing sight of gagged Felice playing at her station in the den and strappado tied naked Xandra helplessly hopping mad.
"Hmmmmm," Felice wiggles her eyebrows like a seductress while throwing me off a cliff.
"OK, Sammy, what do I get first?" I turn to my friend, holding my awesome green rope.
"Ankles first, please," she says with a smile, a perfect segue to a description of our own clothing.
"Well, that's one for Leah and Felice, but we have a long way to go!" Destiny cackles.
"I just want my first to be a double crotch rope," Jackie wants quick, intense escalation.
"Come on, Leah, back up," Sammy motions to me in the gentlest, sweetest manner.
"Hrmmmmph," Xandra grunts before the climatic groan arrives, "Gmmmmm."
"That crotch rope," Michela says, standing behind Jackie, "is super tight."
Basically, Sammy and Michela don't play these games. Michela is at the house in Mudville to be the enforcer of the bondage for Destiny, Felice, Jackie, and Xandra. Sammy is here with Liz and I as our flatmate turned enforcer of the bondage for The Gangsta Twins. The problem isn't trusting ourselves to enforce the rules but rather what happens when everyone in a house finds herself bound and gagged. Now, all these things said, time for more character sketches.
I roll my chair back and let Sammy tie my ankles together with the awesome green rope. It was a joyous day when that rope arrived in the mail, hand dyed for me by one of my friends like I had envisioned. That was when I was a college junior, and I love it because it's appropriate for me and can even work for "Christmas," "spring," or "summer" themes. I gleefully rub my black ankle boots together as best as I can after Sammy finishes tying my ankles together.
One of the cute things about the Cool Girls' Club is the nicknames. Like, Sammy is ennobled as the Gangsta Row. Over the years, others have had nicknames formally sealed into Club lore with the approval signature of the acting Club President at that time and the four founding members of the Club. She stands tall and strong with, cutely, pink canvas sneakers, black socks, black jeans, a pink turtleneck t-shirt, and a pink inferior Western paisley bandana headband. Her hair is almost always in a braid; today's braid is held by a black scrunchie. Yes, it matters so you get the full picture of this pale blonde haired girl with the blue-green eyes. Only green eyes in our flat.
"Hrmph!" Xandra continues hopping as best as she can despite that brutal wire strappado.
"I'm not a dominatrix," Michela says with pizzazz, "Just a hockey-loving lawyer."
"Oh, Destiny, how dare you!" Jackie grimaces while swine eat her up, yummy yummy.
"I gotta do it, love, because yer my bestie and I love ya," Destiny responds in a Newark accent.
"Friendship," Liz turns to me with a glow in her own green eyes, "is magic. Twin power!"
"Yeah, it's a witch's brew that when drunk causes smallpox," Jackie rolls her eyes.
"All right," Michela has a flat smile, "You said you wanted a crotch rope, Gangsta Thief."
"Mmm hmmm," Felice interrupts, wishing to show off her incredible dominatrix skills.
Felice takes over tying Jackie's crotch rope. Worse than a crotch rope is one with knots tied into it and perfectly placed against the… ahem—I've wanted to use this in a story for a very long time and finally have the chance—happy slot. Felice ties this under Jackie's panties and another over the panties. It's two, just like Jackie wanted, and it's even more irritating than she'd desired when she made her bold, daring, and foolishly asinine request for this. She laughs this time, but this means it's time for another character sketch, this one for Gangsta Thief.
Jackie sits there with wavy blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a smile that's contagious. Never does she complain about the trauma of her childhood, but prison annihilated her sense of being in a big way. That she can smile is a testament to the power of her faith and her friendships. Thigh high black leather boots (are those dominatrix boots?) go with a pink cotton knee-skirt, her pink superior classic paisley bandana headband, and a black turtleneck crop top because she has to show off that shiny navel piercing even in February. Jackie, you're precious.
"You're foolishly brave," Taylor cackles, "I'm glad I don't play the TUG side of this!"
"Jackie here is thrivin' in the moment," Destiny says while adjusting her headset, "She loves it."
"Oh, I'll help her to thrive," Liz wiggles her eyebrows with a gleam in her eye.
"F-ck. You," Jackie calmly says 45 seconds later when Liz throws Jackie off a cliff.
"Hrrrmmmmphh!" Xandra makes sure she is not forgotten in that diabolical strappado.
"Red Dead Online is such a friendly way to bond," Michela grabs pink rope to tie Jackie's ankles.
"Erkth," Jackie tries to talk after we all ganged up on her to kill her the required 9 times.
"Hmmmm," Felice drools off her own gag after securing the final rope to finish off Jackie.
Jackie is tortured with mock reverse prayer. That means her arms are behind her back with her wrists crossed and her hands resting against her shoulder blades. Yikes. Her tits are out, and she has a chest harness now. Her legs are tied together with the dominatrix finesse at her ankles, knees, lower thighs, and upper thighs. The ankle bond is brilliantly wrapped into her heels as well. Poor girl has Felice's socks stuffed in her mouth (YUCK!) under a tegaderm and a white bandana OTM gag. Worst of all, she's hogtied from her ankles to her crotch ropes. I think it's abundantly clear Felice is a savage dominatrix and truly a Gangsta Rogue.
Liz and I can handle dirty sock gags, but we prefer not to have them. Doesn't stop us from being victimized by them, though, especially when we're making films with the other Bondagettes. It's a Cool Girls' night here, but I just know that Sammy is itching for the opportunity to do it to one of us. She likes giving out dirty sock gags as much as she likes receiving them, and she clearly is enjoying a rare opportunity for the Gangsta Row to dominate both of the Gangsta Twins.
"Ladies, resume the game," Michela kindly implores us because she's truly sweet as sugar.
"Michela here's antsy to tie up me and Felice, in case ya can't tell," Destiny is practically floating on cloud nine, "Of course, I ain't gonna lose to you three clowns. Offense intended."
"Oh, is that so?" Taylor asks; cue the secretive, conspiratorial, diabolical, sinister texting.
"HRMMMPH!" Alexandra is desperate for some attention while enjoying her solo orgy.
"Is that orgasm?" Michela asks Xandra, but Xandra's speakers are deliberately muted.
"Maybe you might not lose to them, but don't forget I'm still here," Taylor, the lobby room owner and first-person-shooter goddess, peers down her nose at her camera, "I am the 'X factor.'"
You know when the outfit worn by the girl doesn't matter? When she's freaking buck naked in bondage. I know you figure I'm talking about Destiny. Well, I am, in an indirect manner. You know what was said. Well, Taylor had a bit of fun kneecapping Destiny so we could gang up on her. She also had a bit of fun kneecapping me because I'm an easier target than Liz. I know! Unfair. Right? Totally inappropriate Totally awesome. Totally enchanting.
The scene has shifted now. Alexandra is hogtied on the bed; she's now set up with a vibrator on her crotch for extra delight; her speakers are still muted so she can't hear us but we can hear her. Is a speaker wire hogtie worse than a speaker wire strappado? I don't know, either. I do know that Destiny is indeed freaking buck naked, but I've also lost my shirt from a very eager Sammy binding and gagging me and stuffing her freaking socks in my mouth. I won't puke, but I am making the most entertaining faces and getting giggles from everyone on the chat except Xandra, who is too busy swearing and struggling to notice me if Michela hasn't minimized the video chat so that she can't see us, either. I'm here, not there. Outfit time!
Obviously, Destiny has no clothes left except her superior classic paisley purple bandana headband and the black scrunchie holding her hair in a ponytail. That's it. Everything else was taken from her. On the other hand, my outfit featured a green bandana headband (like my eyes and my awesome green rope) that is superior classic paisley. I had a black sports bra underneath the shirt I lost, and my tits are now out. Green leggings and black crew socks are still on me, but I just know that my socks will end up in Liz's mouth. Bondage time!
"Uggghhhh!" I groan into Sammy's socks and make another horrible, twisted face.
"Oh, Leah, you are so cute," Liz reaches over and squeezes my cheek with her hand.
"Gah!" I yell at her, wishing I could just bat her arms down, but I can't because I'm tied up!
"Hrrrmmmph!" Xandra continues her solo orgy and routine orgasms in her hogtie.
"Gmmmmm!" poor Jackie has been ignored while routinely orgasming as well, poor thing!
"Isn't it wonderful here?" Michela asks, knowing all of her company is gagged.
"Mmm hmm," Felice quietly nods and fiddles with the padlock on her gag.
"Gmmmph grrrrmmmmm!" Destiny looks around aimlessly because she's also blindfolded.
"Yes, Michela, we are having fun!" Sammy kindly rubs my shoulder… and my tits!
Destiny has both of Michela's knee socks worked into her gag. One is stuffed in her mouth with 7 layers of face distorting yellow duct tape tape holding it in; the other is an OTM gag. A brown bandana blindfolds her. Her wrists are crossed behind her back and held with black rope. On top of this, she has a tight, objectifying harness, a brutal crotch rope, and ropes tying her legs at her ankles, knees, lower thighs, and upper thighs. She is hogtied on the floor and fighting.
I am sitting on a wooden chair with my arms boxtied behind both my back and the chair back. A harness and a crotch rope work together to pin my arms to my body and to crushmy torso to the chair itself. My legs are tied to each chair leg in three places, so a vibrator can buzz me right on the happy slot. I'm glad I have leggings for protection, unlike Xandra, Destiny, and Jackie. It is a sensational overload like nothing I've ever experienced in my life before this.
The taste in my mouth is a burden alone. Wands are a burden alone, though, because I have a big refractory period, if girls have them. I can, even with a crotch rope and a wand, take 30 minutes or so between orgasms. In between, it's muscle spasms and aching pain. Don't get me wrong; it is a good thing in my opinion. It's torture, but it's delightful torture. Yes, torture can be something that makes a girl happy, but, I must ask, does that mean it's no longer torture? I digress because I can't really focus on much else except the crotch rope and the vibrator.
"GMMMMMMM!" Destiny is frantically struggling while hogtied on the floor.
"GRRRRRRR!" Xandra is frantically struggling while hogtied on Felice's bed.
"Yuuccckkkk!" I'm frantically struggling while fastened to a wooden chair.
"Mmmmmmm!" Jackie is erotically writhing while hogtied on the sofa.
"Hmm hmm!" Felice enjoys the sight as only a dominatrix can enjoy it all.
"I guess I did a good job," Michela humbly maintains the nearly-flat smile on her face.
"I know Sammy sure rocked Leah here!" Liz takes her own position, "I think you did fine, too."
"You certainly did," Sammy adds her own piece, "I'm just trying to make Leah happy."
"You girls are something. I'm out," Taylor laughs at the sight on her screen, "Good night."
I take several deep breaths. This is what sexual stimulation does to me. I become irritable when I am making the initial transition into that altered mindset, and Sammy's socks are making the entire thing worse. I let out a loud "Gmmph!" and only succeed in rocking the chair a little as I struggle in my rigid bondage, but I do like it. Really. It's freeing to receive and give away freedom. It's freeing when I trust Sammy and Liz with my safety or when Sammy and Liz trust me with their safety. It's freeing. I can't do anything about this disgusting flavor, but what is the point of the game except to be pushed and to push? It's captivity, right?
I look at my computer screen and see my friends all suffering the similar fates, but one by one I watched as Michela sets up the screens so that Jackie and Destiny can be seen and heard by us but so that they cannot see or hear us. Then it is my turn. Sammy stuffs cotton in my ears and uses more black tape—just like the black tape I never told you wraps my face 8 times to hold Sammy's socks in my mouth—to hold the cotton in my ears. I am then brought into a corner far Liz's station with my back to my twin sister, and my computer is positioned and set up so my situation is now like the other's. I am now a captive: seen and heard but neither seeing nor hearing. For me, game night is over, and I am now simply Sammy's captive.
Maybe Sammy's inferior Western paisley pink bandana headband is, in truth, a superior Western paisley? Perhaps that flower represents something just as fascinating as superior classic paisley? Western has all the same traits of classic, but it has that flower in the center, a feature that girls like Sammy, Felice, Michela, and Liz always work to ensure is perfectly open and visible. All except Liz, have been broken, a trampled flower, in some way at some point of their lives. Other Cool Girls like one, the other, or both, broken and unbroken. So it can't just be brokenness alone. All this to say there's a thousand good reasons. It's personal taste. The same personality quirks that lead a kid to choose a football team on account of their uniform colors even though the Green Bay Packers are the greatest and the best of all.
I promise to pick on other things in future stories.
"Gmmmmmmm!" I make the most hideous face, I am sure, while squirming and struggling. I'm completely fastened to this chair, and I am absolutely hating Sammy's socks. Like my earlier statement: it's humiliating and acceptable but not something for which I volunteer. There is a lot to be said about this, but the continuous buzz against my crotch keeps pushing me to the limit even when I'm not uselessly struggling to pull on my crotch rope. Would you like me to try to verbalize what I'm feeling in the feminine sense? I promise it won't be graphic!
Even with the headset still on my head, reminding me that I am seen and heard but neither seeing nor hearing, I feel isolated like this. This is why I allow dirty sock gags: it's not a hard limit, but I anticipate to mostly receive clean sock gags, other clean stuffings, or, preferably, ball gags. It's a matter of preference, and that's the opposite of what I'm feeling down below. I mean my crotch rope and the vibrator. That's biology at work. It's who I am. Just like my eyes are green and that I naturally like the color green most of all by nature; just like I prefer classic paisley; just I found a love of the Green Bay Packers as an infant (Thanks, Dad!). But what do I feel?
The buzz is incessant against my body, strongest right there, of course. I'm ashamed to say I am not a virgin, unlike Liz, so I personally understand stimulation a little more than she does. I only stumbled like that once, and my twin held me while I cried and admitted succumbing to that particular temptation. Liz, I love you, but Sammy ties a meaner crotch rope than you do. I feel an increasing ache in there. It grows with time, the way the pain gets worse when local anesthetic wears off. It's worsening like that. Suddenly I feel a cramping squeeze, and it releases with strong cramps that bring waves of almost hot flash like pleasure that lead to relaxation and a settling. Yes, I am ashamed to admit that I orgasm almost like a guy on the first one of a session. Afterwards, that ache only returns if I'm edged; otherwise, that build-up portion ends. The worst part for me is how long it takes. I hope that wasn't graphic. Let me know if it was!
"Nnnnnnnggggg!" I struggle and groan when that agonized first release finally comes. Relief.
Suddenly, I feel hands on my shoulders, a surprise in my deafened state, and I see both Sammy and Liz looking at me and smiling. Apparently, game night is over. Leah sits sideways on my lap, her arms wrapped around my neck, as if I'm a lover and not her identical twin sister. I feel the tenderness in her grasp and feel the mischief. Sammy is untying my shoelaces, and then she's removing my sneakers. Finally, she's removing my socks. I can picture it in my mind that Felice or Michela is now tightly bound and gagged at the other's hand while Xandra, Jackie, and Destiny continue to suffer in their respective hogties in their respective locations. Liz keeps a smile on her face, and then I see binder clips in her hands. Guess what those will pinch next! I will give you a hint: they're firm, squishy, exposed, and extremely sensitive to such things!
"Gmmmmmm," I close my eyes and wince when the pinch arrives on my nipples. Again, this is not a favorite of mine or Liz's, but there are occasions where it's the perfect sibling tease or just a way for a captor to assert control. I cannot hear what Liz and Sammy are saying because they're using soft whispers to talk to each other, taking advantage of the cotton in my ears. For us twins, the game is more about actually having a captive versus what is done to the captive. I would say that we can enjoy a perfectly clean, kid-friendly TUG as much as this. Variety keeps a certain spice to things, and not knowing what will happen adds to the suspense. Tonight, to keep up with what we saw on the screen, Sammy made sure that things were rougher for me.
Despite the seemingly increasing intensity, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. While this might be an escalation, the goal is to work towards my release, likely after a second orgasm. My socks are pushed against my nose; Sammy giggles while I shake the chair and struggle. No, my hearing is still taken from me, but I can see the giggles in her face and how she's moving. What a fun, even if absolutely disgusting, way to end an awesome evening with friends.
I will spare you the descriptions, but Liz and Sammy slowly torture me with scent, gentle tweaks of the binder clips, and pulling on the crotch rope until I orgasm that second time. I'm genuinely sparing you because that took 22 minutes before I felt that pleasant groan and release. The vibrator was turned off; the clamps were released; the cotton was removed from my ears. It was time to transition to aftercare now, allowing me to first come out of the agitated state of orgasm and arousal that I'd experienced. I sit there in silence with nothing but Sammy's horrid socks in my mouth, the crotch rope, and my actual bondage for stimuli. Basically, chilling out for a girl who can't get off on a crotch rope alone. Would someone please tickle my bare feet?
And then release comes. The ropes are untied after 15 minutes of unwinding. Sammy hands me my beloved dark chocolate hot chocolate because I'm such a chocolate snob. What a good place to end this story, with me sipping hot chocolate and giggling.
THE END