Original fiction. Wanted to do a writing challenge this January. Had fun with this one. Used a random character generator.
Prompt: tied up; cw: soft smut
She woke up with her arms stretched over her head. She wiggled her fingers, trying to push her shoulders back and get a deeper stretch, but her hands caught on something. Panicking, she opened her eyes with a start.
She took deep breaths to slow her breathing, feeling the thick rope wrapped snugly around her wrists. If this was a hostage situation, she needed to keep her wits about her and refrain from making any unnecessary noise. Above her was a white popcorn ceiling like the one in her childhood bedroom. The sun streamed in January light from the east-facing window, causing the butter-yellow walls, papered with concert posters and prints, to glow. For a crime scene, this felt very homey. Whatever sprite or monster took her into their hovel had also... tucked her in? Into a fluffy duvet at that.
Though her hands were tied up, nothing felt painful, just a slight stretch under the armpits, and the knowledge her t-shirt had ridden up over her gym shorts and she couldn't pull it down. Her legs were free. And there was a strand of hair that was suddenly very itchy on her left cheek. She blew furiously, trying to get it out of the way.
The door creaked. Her eyes flung to the doorway, where a tall brown woman stood, looking at her kindly, almost motherly. Fuck. This was another one of those sexy elves who kept trying to seduce her. And it was working... again.
"Good morning, sweets." This elf spoke with a Northern English lilt. Clearly the elf distribution algorithm was learning her preferences.
She strained under the ropes involuntarily, squirming under those soft brown eyes. "So you're the one they sent today?"
"That's right, love. I'm afraid you're awfully popular among our crowd." The mommy's eyes turned from soft to mischievous. "I couldn't wait to try my turn with you. There's gotta be something that breaks you, right?"
A tingle ran down from her scalp to her... Fuck fuck fuck. She hated it the most when they caught her right in the morning, when she was the horniest.
When Marianne signed up for the first season of "Can You Handle the Heat?," all she had in mind was the $25,000 cash prize. She'd tried celibacy before, and it usually wasn't all that difficult. There weren't many people out there who could tempt her into having a one-night stand. She figured the show's premise would be something along the lines of "Too Hot to Handle," with horny singles whose deep investment into straight culture actually made them pretty repulsive to her, and thus easy to resist.
She could never have imagined this VR nightmare, in which a different sexy elf visited her every day in an attempt to seduce her out of the money. She guessed her opponents were some kind of computer programmers, writing sexy code to strip her of her born-again virginity. And they were surprisingly pretty queer, throwing at her a spectrum of gender presentations and seduction styles. Maybe the showrunners just wanted to toy with the audience's idea of AI and sexual propriety. She didn't really get all that computer stuff, and it didn't matter all that much anyway. For the last twenty-five days, she'd been stuck in edging hell.
All she had to do was last two hours with these horny elves without any sexual activity (and unfortunately, to Marianne's distress, production was pretty progressive in its definition of sex). After thirty days of this, she could take home the money. In the beginning, it wasn't too bad. But they must've been tracking some sort of pleasure sensors in her brain, because the elves were getting sexier and sexier.
Today's villain wore a loose dressing gown, artfully draped over her swelling curves. She placed a cup of coffee on the bedside table, and as she walked closer, Marianne could smell freshly-baked cinnamon rolls on her skin. Her mouth watered.
"I'm so glad I took you in from the cold. I was worried about you, love. Once we're done up here, we can head down for brekkie. I bet you'd like that, huh?"
Marianne took a deep breath as subtly as she could manage. "I think I'm alright here, thanks though. I'll just sleep in for a bit longer."
This wasn't the first time they'd tied her up (she'd consented to, and admitted to liking, bondage in her onboarding interview). But it was the first time they'd tied her up in the morning, without breakfast, surrounded by cinnamon roll sweetness and soft mommy eyes.
The mommy touched her right wrist gently where it was bound to her left. "Oh, but I'm afraid I can't do anything about these unless you agree to what I say."
There were rules about where the elves were allowed to touch her without consent, but it was blurry what constituted as "consent" on a show like this. So you had to be extra careful.
"Oh, and what's that?" Marianne blurted out, letting her curiousity speak before her rationality and immediately regretting it. It was best to maintain as much detachment as possible, but she had actually learned she was quite impulsive, contrary to what she believed before going on the show. She thought with remorse about how she'd self-described as "disciplined," making non self-aware self an easy target for the sadistic producers.
The mommy's eyes glinted. "All you have to do is let me feel you." Her hand trailed from Marianne's wrists down her forearms, causing shivers when she stopped at her inner elbow. "I've been told my fingers are quite adept. They'll take good care of you, I promise."
Fuck. Marianne took another deep breath, wishing she was at least wearing a bra so she couldn't feel her nipples rubbing against the thin fabric of her t-shirt as she arched her back involuntarily. "I'll be alright actually, this stretch feels quite nice." Her voice cracked.
The woman didn’t give up. “Oh honey, I haven’t even told you how you can get untied yet. It’s really not so bad at all.” She reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out a dark bottle of massage oil and shaking a generous amount onto her hands. She rubbed them together, letting Marianne catch the scent of vanilla and more cinnamon. “All you have to do is let me work through those tight legs of yours.”
Shit. Marianne’s legs were tight. And she hadn’t been able to access her foam roller or go to her usually weekly massage therapy. Fuck these computer programmers. She needed this massage. “Oh, is that all? Well please, be my guest.”
The woman pulled down the duvet to reveal Marianne’s muscled, thick legs in her gym shorts. She groaned. Marianne loved that the elves could appreciate her beauty too. Unfortunately, though, the mutual attraction made them sexier. The mommy lathered her hands thick with oil, then pressed her thumbs deep into Marianne’s thighs.
“Ohhhh.” Marianne sighed deeply. She closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. She could do this. Fantasizing about massage therapists without consummation, she could do. The producers wouldn’t get her this time.
Once she was in familiar territory with her wits about her (morning horniess was hard), Marianne regained her confidence to resist. She sat through the massage willingly, accepting the physical release of her muscles without fantasizing about it leading to another kind of release. She would last another day.
