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Yes, despite the title, this story remains clean even as they discuss topics only adults would understand even if there's nothing dirty in what they discuss. I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Subspace: Head in the Clouds (FF/F)
Wednesday, December 30, 2020
Moving in with Hannah brought me joy and meaning. She loves me more than ordinary friends love their friends, but she’s not my best friend either. She is like (How does the saying go?) my sister from another mother. We’re not romantic, we tell each other secrets, we keep secrets from each other, and we have other friends with whom we are closer and can pour out our souls.
Do you know what is empowering? Surrendering power because you trust another person with your power. Do you know what is weak? Taking power away from another to smother them in fear and threats. In the incredible games we call tie-up games, or TUGs, power is either taken or surrendered. When you take power in TUGs, you must use it wisely.
I have four friends into whose eyes I can confidently look and ask, “Would you please take away my power? Would you leave me helpless against whatever you do and promise to do no harm to me? Would you lock me up and ignore me while you go about your business? I am blessed that I have two of those people in this house today.
Xandra Watkins is an unusual soul. She’s incredibly soft and sweet, yet in an instant she can be a foul-mouthed sailor. I promise I will censor her. She is also inexplicably kinky. She might have an adventurous spirit, but few people respect personal boundaries like she does. In fact, she may be too sensitive of boundaries and deprive herself and her captives of pleasure during TUGs.
After a shift that started at 6 AM, I was ready to relax since Hannah has the day off. It was just after 1 PM, and we had just eaten lunch. It was a Saturday, so Xandra did not have class. There was no time to waste. Please, join me on this little journey, and explore the most unusual joy in TUGs alongside me. I promise you will learn about me and my friends from the experience.
“Hannah,” I coyly said to my landlady, “Would you two like to rope, lock, and ignore me?”
“If you need to unwind, I will gladly ignore you. We’ll shoot for 3 hours this time, hmmm?”
“It would be divine. Do you mind listening to the Couperin playlist while I’m being ignored?”
“Of course not!” Hannah grinned back at me, “You know I like that one, too!”
“Ashley,” Xandra kindly took my hand, “I promise it will be fun for you as well as for us.”
“I,” I blushed a little bit, “I like when I’m ignored. It allows me to unwind, think, and reflect.”
You will soon find out what it means when my loved ones ignore me. Being locked for it makes it an even more invigorating experience. I will admit that it is something few people, if any, that I know, could handle. One who might is my dear Hannah. I can, however, picture friends crying under the same circumstances. This is the most psychologically intense form of TUG.
As she said, I am Ashley Calland. I was born in France and moved to America with my parents when I was 9 years old. I may be 23 now, but I go home twice each year; I still speak French as fluently as ever; and I even have an accent. I might even be wearing a French flag bandana as a headband, my ever present headband. I may sound simple, but I am extremely complicated. It's a dichotomy for me to ask them to lock me because I am so much more than these things.
Hannah has been in my life for 8 years now. She is lovely, and to see her now compared to how I met her is a true story of overcoming the odds. She has grown from a battle wear, embittered soul to a person that can be trusted with the most private thoughts and to be at your side during the most difficult battles. She is a warrior who has risen, and I call her my sister in Christ.
Xandra entered my life by surprise during the celebrations for my 18th birthday. She saw us as we are and didn't judge us for our past mistakes, but she instead confessed that she knew about our stories and that she didn't care because we were transformed survivors. She embraced us as her friends, and she has been in our lives ever since. She may be profane and agnostic, but she is a girl to whom even the most religious person can pour out their soul and receive love in return.
“How does that feel?” Hannah pulled the forearm sleeve armbinder over my arms.
“Mon cher,” I giggled, “It is a delight. You are too kind to me and spoil me, my dear friend.”
The armbinder slides over the forearms and has three straps that are tightened. One of them has a padlock to ensure I do not escape so easily, and I was trapped. My heart rate increased ever so slightly because of the excitement. Xandra put a pair of rigid handcuffs, Irish-8s, on my ankles, but only after she first removed my blue pumps from my feet. A second pair of the rigid cuffs goes on my wrists just below the armbinder. The click has a sound of finality.
Perhaps it does help if you know more about me than just my French flag bandana. I wore one of my favorite outfits. I love garters and hose, and I wore a white garter belt with my white hose. It's so feminine, chic, and sexy. My red miniskirt hugged my legs and only went halfway down my thighs. I also wore a blue turtleneck t-shirt that I taped up to expose my midriff. Now does a French flag bandana sound better? I will explain the midriff in time.
The locks were in place. There was finality in the click. There was cold rigidity in the weight of the cuffs, and there was a soulless formality in the armbinder. This was the first part of locking, roping, and ignoring, and the locking part was not yet finished. I looked down towards my feet and wiggled my toes in their white hosiery for my own amusement since I likely wouldn't do so after Hannah and Xandra were done with me. There was much more to be done.
“Talk to me, Ash,” Hannah's voice is almost motherly to her captives, “Are you OK?”
“Of course,” I blushed and turned away, “It is embarrassing for a lady to enjoy such things.”
“She's such a sweetheart,” Xandra squeezed my cheek, “It’s extremely feminine to like TUGs.”
The roping is perhaps the part that makes me the happiest. I like the feeling of ropes surrounding my breasts and squeezing my body together so that my bosom is more obvious. Hannah does an excellent job of rigging up a girl; in my opinion, she is the best rigger I know, male or female. It was a fine harness, and the rope at my waist squeezed into my belly for a pleasing pressure.
Xandra was a little awkward at first because she'd get too excited when binding someone, but she is now a fine rigger. She is conscientious and kind, and the blue-eyed beauty was careful in tying my legs for maximum pleasure in this scenario. She tied my legs on both sides of my knees, and for beauty she added ropes at mid-legs and mid-thighs. I was almost lost in ecstasy already. We have done versions where my toes or fingers were zipped or strung, but not today.
Now comes my silence. We take things up a notch around here. It doesn't matter what combo I receive so long as I am locked into it. There are many choices that may accompany the locking gag though. Will there be stuffing? A cleave gag? Tape? It is exciting, no? I hear my French accent when I think in English; do you hear it when you are reading what I write?
“Xandra, the honors are yours,” Hannah deferred to our guest.
“With pleasure,” Xandra sat down and quickly removed her sneakers and her socks.
“Just drop them in here,” Hannah held a big container entitled Secret Gag Powder.
“I see we're giving Ashley our best,” the barefoot blonde giggled and dropped her socks in it.
“Oh, for sure, she doesn't deserve anything less than our best!”
I blushed and squirmed while they reversed the socks and coated the other side by shaking them around the container. After a little manipulation, one sock was inside the other, and a long, thin fashion scarf was tightly tied around the mouth of the exterior sock, trapping the interior sock in the package. Hannah kindly ordered me to open my mouth, but I smiled, blushed, and shook my head in playful defiance. I even stood up and gave both girls a kiss on the cheek.
Then Hannah pushed me down and pinched my nose. Xandra pushed her strongly flavored sock wad into my sock, and the scarf wrapped around my head and in my mouth many times before it was knotted behind my head. Hannah followed this by wrapping my face 6 times with gray duct tape. The smell of the adhesive filled my nose, and the drug-like qualities relaxed me.
This combination is the secret formula of a friend. She devised it to use on me during a filming day, and it worked very well and evoked intense physical and mental reactions from me. I love it in a strange way. I will explain it soon, but be assured that it is a strong combination when added to the putrid taste of Xandra’s feet. She giggled like a naughty school girl throughout the whole process, and her ebullience sets her apart from the rest of my core group of friends.
Over my head they pulled the hood. The hood has a big opening for the eyes and mouth and has a velcro strap around the neck in addition to the usual laces up the back of the head. The leather comes right up to my nose, so they jam Hannah’s socks between the leather and my nose to make me have to smell Hannah’s stinky feet. Such design is perfect for adding a locking posture collar around my neck. The hood is classic black, but the collar is blue just like the one you see in the Melissa Roberts Aussie Rope Works scenes. How I wish we had a cage of some sort into which I could be locked, but instead I had to enjoy a chair scene. Indeed, they were not done with tying me up by any means, and it would only get better.
There is pleasure for me in having some movement when we play this game; otherwise, Hannah would be too eager to zip or string my fingers together so that I cannot move those either. They were careful and considerate of my emotional needs. Securing me to the chair, however, serves to increase the pressures upon my body and to restrain my core motions. I may not be muscular like some girls, but I am still strong. I will tell someday about the times I took down the girl the Cool Girls’ Club once believed to be the strongest girl among themselves without doubt, but we found out that many of my friends, including Hannah, were stronger than that, to their surprise.
“There, there, Ashley, we’ll soon leave you alone,” Xandra teasingly poked me in the belly.
“Mmm hmm,” I laughed, but then the taste of the gag hit me with double strength, “Yeck!”
What does the Cool Girls’ Club mean to me? I haven't mentioned them yet, this bizarre club of TUG loving friends. The oaths of unconditional love and friendship are truly honored within the Club, and there have been many friendships I made that I otherwise would not have made. They take… We take our oath seriously, even when members harm us, accidentally or willfully, and it is a place forgiveness overflows. Hence, it is love and friendship as best expressed in TUGs, and I can say that I and my two captors have certainly experienced this beautiful spirit in meaningful ways. It is with happiness that we say we are Cool Girls, and I’m grateful for all of my friends.
They really secured me to the chair. On top of my present bindings, Hannah secured my trunk to the chair by tying a second harness that wrapped around the diagonal mesh and the chair frame too. Xandra tied a rope that secured my waist to both the chair back—again taking advantage of that diagonal mesh—and the seat of the chair. She separately tied my thighs to the seat, and my beloved Hannah connected my ankles to the support bar between the front legs.
Now I will describe my friends. I am sorry for only generically calling them both blonde-haired and blue-eyed without details. I didn't describe myself. Hannah is a stocky girl, strongly, solidly built, but she's only 163 cm tall. Her hair is long and beautiful, and she has only a little fat that I know she neither minds nor tries to lose either. It's just part of her. Xandra is slightly taller, 165 cm, and she has a feminine frame and what is like baby fat. She is slender, though, and she does not wear glasses all the time like Hannah does but instead uses contacts. She is also rounder than Hannah, and her heart is as soft as her skin. Like Hannah, her hair is long but is yellower instead of pale like Hannah's. That suffices for my friend's figures.
Hannah embodied that Cool Girl spirit; her headband was a standard pink paisley bandana. She was wearing a black long-sleeve t-shirt with regular fit pink jeans. With her jeans, she wore her favorite, all black sneakers and white socks. She had been wearing them before she decided that her socks were better used to enhance my experience. In my opinion, she looks best when she is wearing her black combat boots with colored jeans, but Hannah's opinion is what matters most.
Alexandra was unpredictable in her style, but you could guarantee she would look pretty. There was a distinct femininity in her outfits, emotions, and mannerisms. She had black leggings and a robin’s egg blue curved neck t-shirt. Unlike Hannah and me, she would only wear bandanas—or any other kind of headscarf or headband—when the moment required it. She and I share a love for sundresses and wide-brimmed hats, but we couldn't dress like this when it is so cold outside.
“Enjoy, my friend,” Hannah peered into my eyes with a bright, loving smile.
“You just let us know if you need anything,” Xandra’s expression was softer and more tender.
I was locked and roped, and next they ignored me. I never described myself, did I? I am 170 cm in height, and my dark brown hair comes past my shoulders with ease. I am svelte like Xandra, but I am incredibly strong. It is impossible. I must broach the topics that pain me, or else I can't explain things so that they make sense to you. I will be very brief, but it should suffice.
My aunt abused me. She threatened me so I’d comply. I didn't comply, and she murdered both of my parents before my eyes and the eyes of 15 others. To stop her from killing more people, I grabbed the gun with which she had murdered my mother, and I killed her. The judge called me a monster and gave me 6 years. I wasn't even 12 years old yet. Prison had mandatory exercise routines, and I maintain a strict routine of my own, including at least 250 pushups daily. It was in prison that I met Hannah and most of my closest friends and through them I met the rest.
Since then, I have lived in three homes. I first lived with two of my prison friends. My second home was with Hannah when Hannah lived with her old prison cellmate and then lover, and the family graciously let me have the spare bedroom. When Hannah bought this home, she sweetly asked me to move in as her roommate. I pay her rent although she does not wish for me to do so.
I try to move my legs, but the chair travels with me. I cannot help but smile a little bit because it means I am struggling a lot and unable to escape so easily. My arms are trapped between me and the chair. There are layers to the gag, and let me talk about this gag in just a moment. I love that ipI am completely cut off from my friends; they act like I am not even in the house with them.
The socks, fresh off Xandra’s feet, taste bad; I know because I have been gagged with her socks many times over our 5 years of friendship. They are now liberally coated in the mixture that my dear friends Kendra and Mary-Ann made. There is vinegar powder, alum, cocoa powder, corn starch, and I think glycerin to make it sticky and hold to the sock. Both sides are coated as well, and it is a pungent flavor tinged by the flavor of Xandra’s nasty feet. Hannah’s smell bad. There is a combination of senses at work, and the helplessness of it all slowly works on me like a drug. I hate to discuss people who aren't physically in this story, but Kendra, Jackie, Michela, and, last but not least, Mary-Ann are necessary because they are significant to me and the events that I am going to describe. I will soon talk about Kendra and Mary-Ann.
“Hey, Xandra, would you like to help me? I have something I wanted to do,” Hannah asks her.
“Oh, sure!” Xandra's eyes light up, “I think I know what it is. You're a genuinely good person.”
Hannah really is genuinely good. I have watched her transform from an arrogant atheist into one of the most spiritually intelligent people I know; contrast Xandra, a sweet open-minded atheist. I am serious; Hannah was a bigot. She was raised to see religious people as either brainwashed or stupid, and she did. When she arrived at the Mudville Juvenile Detention Center, she was a most impenitent drug pushing teenager, and Kendra was her useless junkie client. To sit in a car with Hannah and go to church on weekends is something I could not have imagined, but now even she so proudly wears a crucifix and her favorite saint medals on a silver chain around her neck.
Hannah was my pathway. Upon my release from juvie, I moved in with Kendra and Mary-Ann, and at the time Hannah was living in the same house as her girlfriend's family. That girlfriend is Michela. Was Michela. For her birthday, Michela decided that our faith, Roman Catholicism, is the most important thing to her, and she cannot be in a same-sex relationship. She realized that a girl is tempted, but to be in a relationship is to embrace and cherish this thing. I say because both Hannah and I have engaged in deeds with Michela once or twice since then.
First, Kendra got married and moved out of the house. Later, Mary-Ann got married, so I had to move out, and I moved into that same house, Michela’s family, into the spare bedroom. Now, in 2020, Hannah bought her first home, and I moved in with her because I have no attraction to her nor she to me. We struggle in our attractions, but we recognize that we are human. We sin. The sacrament of confession is there to heal us if we genuinely repent. As you see, these five figures are inextricably intertwined with my life after my release. Companionship and healing.
“A teaspoon of vanilla,” Hannah says, “Xandra, go in that cabinet. See the big white thing?”
“This thing?” Xandra pulls out a device that is a joy to my eyes and my stomach.
“Yeah, that one. We need it in order to make these scrumptious little joys.”
The cookie press. That can only mean one thing. Spritz cookies. With strawberry jam. Those are my absolute favorite. My mother or grandmother made them every Christmas, and now my grandmother sends me a box of treats each Christmas season. Yes, my grandmother sends me a box from France, where all of my living relatives still live. Hannah makes these upon occasion because she knows how much I love them. What a sweet, caring soul who has felt such pain.
My beloved Hannah was released over a year before me. She went back to her ways, but then it all came crumbling down. She got pregnant, and her boyfriend forced her to abort under threats of harm. He tried to kill her eventually. She was homeless for a time and then lived in squalor. It was Mary-Ann who forcibly removed Hannah and moved her in with Michela. When she was arrested. her parents immediately disowned her. They reconciled at Christmas, but within a few months things were shaky. Within 18 months, Hannah was living with Michela again, rejected this time for being a Roman Catholic. In my opinion, Hannah's parents never truly loved her.
That gag is a slow leech that will last at least 90 minutes, up to 2 hours. Something else grabs at my taste buds. It's a funny flavor. It's metallic. I feel Xandra's socks with my tongue and realize I am gagged with the keys to these mechanisms: the armbinder, the pairs of cuffs, and the collar. Before Hannah stuffed the one sock in the other, she put the keys in there. How delightful could this be? I cannot remove the collar unless I get the key, but to get the key requires I first remove the collar. I am so helpless; Hannah is a sneaky, clever girl who loves me very much. I creak the chair in order to get her attention for p a brief moment. I have let her know that I figured it out.
“Oh, I think someone figured what you did,” Xandra teases Hannah, who rolls her eyes..
“She is playfully shooting daggers from those big brown eyes, isn't she?” Hannah laughs at me.
“Pss psss psssss,” they now speak about me in quiet whispers and return to the cookies.
The way my arms are trapped between me and the wood somehow adds to the experience but is not an essential part either. The locks, the gag, and the ropes do this. Hormones are released to my body from the bonds themselves; further hormones are released because of the psychological angle of the captivity. It's that I’m locked up, sucking on Xandra’s dirty socks that are coated in Kendra’s secret recipe, and not a part of my captor's lives. It is an incomparable experience.
Seriously think about my gag. Xandra’s socks, coated in the powder, and the keys in them. The scarf. Tape. A hood. And a collar. It is so completely restrictive. Think about my bonds. Two pairs of cuffs. An armbinder. All that rope. Fastened to a chair. It is also completely restrictive. It is also so completely liberating because I am a prisoner of nothing but my own free will. That is freedom that is exercised in surrender. I surrender myself to the rigid finality of the binding so I might find freedom in my own thoughts. I struggle to similarly surrender myself to the Savior who gave me my free will, but He is my strength in my weakness. I may be physically strong, but I am spiritually weak. He uses my friends to strengthen me and aids me as needed.
My friends Jackie and Kendra are examples of joyful surrender. Ironically, besides Hannah, who is stoic or pragmatic, it is Michela, Mary-Ann, and I who struggled. The three converts can more easily find peace than us girls who were raised as Roman Catholics. Well, Hannah struggles too. Mary-Ann found that peace again after some time, and Michela and I are only just finding it.
I squirm a bit, but all I do is feel the soulless rigidity of the bonds. The cuffs are stiff. The rope is tight. The armbinder is secure. I am literally squeezed against the chair. I look down to look at my legs. The red of the skirt and the white of the garter belt and hose are a charming sight. I feel like a true lady, albeit one who is captive. The trope of the damsel-in-distress fills me with a sense of wonder, but there is absolutely no more distress here than I create in my own mind.
Now I know why Hannah stuffed her socks against my nose. It wasn't just to force me to smell her stinky feet; she wanted to block me out so that the smell wouldn't betray the presence of the spritz cookies in the event I was close enough to subspace that I wouldn't really notice the sight of the cookie press. Hannah is such a playful, thoughtful soul. Let me tell you a little more.
Hannah has a borderline personality. It manifested itself in many ways, like an insatiable desire for romance, despondency, and so forth. Well, as it turned out, through her side job of serving as a bondage model, she met this one girl who ironically attended the same engineering college that most of the Cool Girls’ Club attended. The girl mentioned that the psychology department had a part that specialized in teenage delinquents, and that meeting us convinced her to take that track and that she possibly wanted to remain here and help the girls in Mudville juvie and even us!
It was Hannah who first worked at the local Best Buy. She, in turn, managed to get jobs there for some of us, and when I graduated from prison she secured work for me, too, and I continue there to this day. Hannah, however, had her time with her parents who live in North Carolina, but once she was in Mudville she went back to Best Buy. Now, she uses her psychology degree, earned in that same track at that college, as a guard in the same prison pod that once imprisoned us. It only happened once Hannah moved in with Michela’ family and sought out care for her mental health.
Then there are Kendra and Mary-Ann. They helped me to see my primary thoughts and feelings as a result of my experience; with practice, I can learn to pause before I act and choose how I am going to react to them. Michela struggled in this, such as the day she saw a picture of her father on the wall and instinctively smashed it to pieces. My church family went through my childhood home after my arrest and collectively saved all of our things before the house was repossessed; it was a struggle to have to pick through those things. Family portraits were especially painful, but the worst part was seeing a picture of my mother and my aunt. Instead of smashing it, I cried for her death and prayed that she found some sort of holy penance before she died. I will not judge her, but I will not cherish her either. Momma did not know what a monster her sister really was.
It took me years to not see myself as a monster for being bisexual. I am not here to go into detail about such a private matter, but it was liberating to realize that my feelings were genuine, and to have friends who help me put a spiritual slant on it changed my life. Now, I can face a priest in the confessional and tell him when I have lusted, or even indulged my desires, receive absolution and a penance, and go out and do the penance in faith without hating myself. Life is beautiful.
“Smells good in here, doesn’t it?” Hannah leans back and looks up at the ceiling.
“Yeah, just too bad one of us can’t smell it and has pretty bad taste, too,” the other giggles.
“Oh, that powder is a true delight, but Kendra refuses to give me her recipe.”
“You’ve actually tried that expletive?! Hannah, you’re crazy,” the laughter is boisterous.
“It’s awesome stuff and really amplifies the helplessness.”
She could say that 50 times, and it would still be true. It is truly awesome stuff that amplifies the helplessness. That powder is really assaulting my mouth. The cocoa powder is bitter and makes me dry; the vinegar powder is sour and makes me salivate, amplifying the flavor of Xandra’s toe cheese, as my friends like to call it; and the alum has that puckering effect. On top of it all, there is a metallic overtone from the keys buried deep inside the socks. I cannot stop any of this.
I shift a little in the chair, but I am fastened to it all too well. My legs are secured to that bar; my torso is roped to the back of the chair; my thighs are cinched and secured to the seat. The cuffs, armbinder, and rope secure my limbs. There are so many layers to the gag. Is there anything at the moment to do? No. All I can do is enjoy the impossibility of escape, the nonchalance of my captors, and the loneliness of my own thoughts. It is a scenario that becomes peaceful with time.
“How’d you like to play some cards?” Hannah asks our guest, “Phase 10?”
“I’d love to sit down and pass the time. Act like we’re all alone with no one but us here.”
“Well, there is no one here but us, right?” my beloved landlord winks.
“Right. That jam is so good, Hannah. Was it made with Michela’s strawberries?”
“I did! Isn’t it amazing?! Michela, her sister, and I made it, and it’s the best ever!”
As I said, Kendra and Mary-Ann were instrumental in my development. Kendra was sadly given a felony charge, and she even spent time with an ankle monitor. This restricted her ability to find work, and she only worked as a model while most of us could find regular jobs. Of course, as an extremely determined individual, Kendra simply gathered friends and worked as much as studios would allow her and was extremely frugal. It was only after some time that she started attending church with Mary-Ann and I. She was raised religious and fell away, but prison changed her like so many others. She would ask me questions about church, and within 18 months she was a full convert with her own devotions and had a boyfriend she soon married. Now she’s a mom of 2.
Mary-Ann was raised in a nominal household in which her parents ignored her. It was a mess of a situation, deplorable. Her father’s extended family was all she knew and didn’t even know her mother’s maiden name despite her mom being only 16 when Mary-Ann was born. She loves her paternal relations even if her parents were glad to have her taken from their home. She started in crime because she wanted to get away from the foster homes that hurt her in both body and soul. Afterwards, she was homeless, reunited with her cousin, and got a job as a FedEx manual laborer who loaded trucks, a job that led to her eventually being a delivery driver.
“Do you like the taste of freshly worn pantyhose?” Hannah casually asks, “Because you have an extremely smelly pair that I think has your name written all over them.”
“Situationally dependent,” Xandra coyly responds with a sparkle in her eyes before taking a big drink of her sweet tea, “I know it’s coming for that dirty sock trick.”
“Isn’t revenge part of the game, even if things were requested. You do something off script…”
“Every time I think it’s overkill, it turns out to be more delightful than expected.”
“It’s much appreciated,” my sister from another mother laughs, “An insatiable taste or thirst.”
“I bet that little present we gave is making someone really thirsty now,” Xandra giggles.
"I give her my socks to roll around in that powder for her to use on you," Hannah deadpans.
"I dunno, Hannah. I'd make some funny facial reactions when that alum hits my tongue."
I like being ignored like a piece of furniture. I’m not a person in captivity. I’m another chair to use for sitting or as a decoration. Hannah notices and makes a comment about me not moving in about 10 minutes, and her thoughts are correct. I’m drifting away, almost floating, head far away in the clouds. I’m looking at Hannah, Xandra, or some random point but not focusing on it; I am in my subspace now where I am helpless and carefree. Little details are now missed. If Michela walked into the room and left, I would remember that she was there but not be able to tell you if she was wearing blue jeans or a pink summer dress. My breaths are deep; my muscles are soft; I am loved by Hannah and Xandra who know better than to talk about me when I am like this.
This is the point I was seeking, the point of release from reality. I am still part of reality, but I’m no longer bothered by it like I would be otherwise. Even intense emotions are more controlled, and I become keenly aware of my feelings while less aware of my physical senses except touch and hearing. As I said, I see but don’t really see. Details of what I hear are lost with time, but on good days I remember what I hear. The gag and Hannah’s socks no longer bother me. The many bonds become much more real to me, and I can almost feel my blood flow through my veins.
"Jackie gave me a motorcycle ride on Monday. It was so much fun!” Xandra converses now.
“You? Motorcycle? Really?” Hannah never looks up from her cards, “On her Kawasaki?!”
“It was so much fun. Jackie’s so smooth, like a pro. Maybe I’ll race her some day.”
“You? You wanna go up to Brainerd and watch Jackie smoke you on a track day?” my friend is savage in crushing Xandra’s spirit, “I’d want to be there to see that! She’d smoke you!”
"Who’d think of Jackie as a leather biker girl?" Alexandra giggles, “I drive a Mazda stick!”
"I'm not surprised," Hannah responds, "Then again, she and I were in that juvie pod together for 14 months before I got sprung. She was a former thief. Isn't it awesome to see her go from a common teenage serial bandit to a practicing Roman Catholic?" I hear Hannah’s happiness.
"She's still a leather loving, bandana wearing, crop-top enjoying stereotypical Cool Girl, and it's good to see her turn her life around. I can't relate, though; you know I'm agnostic."
"Agnostic, but an evangelical at heart, Xandra," Hannah smiles and puts her cards down, "I win."
“How did you?!” Xandra sputters, “I wasn’t paying enough attention, I guess.”
"Which leather loving, bandana wearing, crop top Jackie do you like better?" Hannah asks while dealing the cards to start a new game, "The one that jumps you and ties you up because she's so much stronger than you, or the one that playfully asks you to tie her up instead?"
Suddenly, I become keenly aware of the French flag bandana upon my head and the way I taped up my t-shirt to turn it into a crop top so that my navel piercing could be seen, but I soon forget why I began thinking about these things. My mind goes back to life in France, living in the little house by the quiet boulevard just across the street from Uncle’s home. My mind travels down to the four jewels in my navel, the biggest emerald being for May, the month in which my parents were murdered, the little emerald being for my imprisonment, the medium emerald being for my release, and the June pearl for my unjust sentence to 6 horrid years in the Mudville juvie.
The heritage I still carry. The accent I strive to maintain. The language that is still my first even if I am in America. These are my reminders, my anchors, my reminder who I am, what brought me to be where I am today, and something I must accept. My life is changed forever, and I must bear it or let it all break me. There is a quiet peace in me, though. What is it? I am still French, and I will always be French even if I am now an American citizen. I am alone in my thoughts. I am not just an orphan; I am a survivor who has risen to find a new life amidst confusion.
Jean Calland and Heléne Kowalczyk were good, god fearing people. They taught me the faith so well, and they taught catechism to others. Both were lay readers and extraordinary ministers for our church. We prayed the rosary daily with true devotion. We visited monasteries. Such things cannot be replaced. I quietly pray in gratitude that I had them for 12 years; Mary-Ann never had hers even though she was there for 11 or 12 years. My parents, even if they went to purgatory, I am sure they are already in Paradise. Momma and Poppa, thank you so much for loving me like you did. I know that now you protect me and intercede for me with your own holy prayers. If I could be as holy as you were! I am sure you struggled; I was just too young to notice it. I’m not defined by this senseless series of tragedies, though; someday we will be reunited.
"Have you ever considered getting leather pants like mine?" Hannah asks Alexandra next.
"Nah. I have my burgundy and brown leather miniskirts, and they’re sufficient for me."
The leather that binds me so well. The armbinder, the hood, and the posture collar that holds my head so rigidly and ensures that I cannot remove the hood, since the collar is locked in place with one of the keys that gags me. It’s more like a hug, the secure, protective hug of my friends. I am deeply loved by my friends, at the moment Hannah and Xandra. My friendships are from God.
My life was in shambles. My aunt had murdered my parents; to save others I had to kill my aunt, the only other relation I had who did not live back home in France. The judge sentenced me to 6 years in Mudville juvie and called me a monster, and God intervened for me. Why did God stop me from dying but not my parents? Why did He give me the idea of shooting my own aunt; was it our own free will? Why then did he tell the prison employees to place me in Pod F where I’d make so many friends instead of Pod E or G when there were open cells in those pods as well? I wasn’t saved; neither were Michela, Jackie, or Mary-Ann; yet Hannah was saved. It’s like we’re all brought together to be the best friends we could have ever possibly had, but even that took an incredible amount of free will. No, God let us get to that point and then slowly put us in Pod F. I have my friends in my life, and I know that free will means freedom to do both good and evil.
“I like leather, don’t get me wrong,” Xandra lowers her voice, “But my favorite is a hood.”
“Alexandra, you are a true rope bunny!” Hannah cackles to herself, “You’re so much fun.”
“So I’m a rope bunny. So what?” the svelte blue-eyed girl shrugs, “Isn’t that being a Cool Girl?”
My life was a result of misused free will. We make choices, and miracles take place when God puts Himself in the way of our free will. Xandra may be agnostic, but I still see her as a gift that God gave us as a friend. She never judges us for our faith, and her bubbly personality brings us so much happiness. They are laughing about leather and such, but I am safe and loved here. It is funny they talk about the hood that squishes my face so tightly. Such a wonderful feeling. Then I start crying because of both the sadness and the happiness, but especially the happiness.
This Sunday, I am scheduled to be a lay reader at the 9:15 AM mass. I will be an extraordinary minister of holy communion, and my friends Mary-Ann and Michela, depending on which mass they attend, will be in the choir. Just like my parents! Momma, Poppa! I know you can see me and see me following you; you ache with me when I sin; you also laugh at my bizarre manner of relaxing and having fun; however, I suspect you would approve of most of my games. Xandra is texting Hannah; they’ve noticed my tears. That girl has a heart of fine gold.
"So," Alexandra speaks again, "You ever thought of getting a bike?"
"I like leather pants. I like leather jackets. I like leather skirts. But a bicycle is the fastest I'll ever go on two wheels," Hannah responds confidently.
"You and Jackie are the same size. We'll doll you up in your crop tops, bandanas, and leather, and we'll tie you two up together. It'd make a great film to sell!"
“It’d not be unlike other films we’ve made in the past, especially with Ashley and Mary-Ann!”
"OK. Write a script where that happens to me and Jackie! She'd love it!" Hannah continues.
"I will," Alexandra takes a notepad from her purse and writes a note, "I love script writing!"
My mind drifts towards a film my friends and I once made, Leather and Rope. We usually have lots of fun with creating scenes, especially ones with minimal plot. I remember the start of the film, with me riding as the passenger on Jackie’s bike. I had a GoPro taped to my chest for a dramatic opening shot, and, as soon as Jackie unlocked the door to the house, I grabbed her with a tight hand gag. At this point, the scene shifted to regular cameras, but I still remember how I enjoyed that scene. Mary-Ann borrowed a friend’s bike, and when she arrived at the house I also grabbed her. That was more intense though because Mary-Ann is possibly closest to my equal in strength. How much fun we had filming that one, and we have done others like it since. The one I mentioned is my favorite as a captor, and Boots and Bikes is my favorite as a captive. In this position, I would make a very boring film to produce and sell. Three hours of stillness.
"Okay, so you’re tied back-to-back in matching leather outfits. Bandana, leather pants, and crop tops. Jackie owes money on the motorcycle, and you’re the fool with her at the wrong time.”
"Sounds about right,” Hannah laughs, “Jackie’s always the troublemaker. Just gag her sass."
“Yeah,” Xandra pauses in though, “Colorful ball gags with black straps.”
There is no more flavor in this gag except the boring flavors of plain cotton from the socks and a metallic tinge from the keys. It’s not bad; dirty socks are more interesting. How I enjoy when a friend sits down, takes off her socks before my eyes, and gags me with them. I don’t mind if she worked an all-day shift on her feet at Best Buy or even if she came back from a sweaty session at the gym. How thrilling this taste is! There is a fascination I have with ritual, like being bound in rope and cuffs like this, or watching a friend remove her socks to gag me. I do not know why the ritualism is so pleasing except that it goes with my love of Roman Catholic ritualism as well.
It’s kind of funny. They’re fancifully planning a simple but humorous scene while I’m here with nothing but my introspection and the emotional and psychological outlet it provides for me. The laughter of the script writers brings a little mirth to my soul even if I’m disconnected. I feel the gratitude for their friendship, for being here with them, for being able to safely be me. Hannah and Xandra are the exact friends I needed to have with me during this session. Script writing is fun when you’re in the right mindset, and it can be a fun escape to sit and plan a scene.
“We’ll cast Kendra’s husband as the bad guy!” Xandra says with satisfaction, “He’s perfect!”
I remember one scene I penned. We filmed it in Florida in the summer of 2018. I had kidnapped Hannah for ransom, demanding her (fictional) husband pay me soon. We were in an abandoned cabin type site in a forested park east of where we were staying in the hotel. The cabin was also off grid, and the heat made the sweat and desperation so real. Hannah was arguing with me and begging for her freedom, and I finally took my socks off and jammed them in her mouth before I wrapped her head in layers of vet wrap. Never have I heard such a realistic reaction to the use of a dirty sock gag. I then put her head in a muzzle to ensure the wrap layers stayed in place. How I remember the sweat pouring off my body, knowing heat stroke was possible if we let ourselves get too dehydrated or overheated. The dark cabin made a chilling setting. That was such proof of our friendship; only friendship could lead to such a perfectly acted scene.
My mind drifts to another scene filmed 2 days after that forest scene. We were instead on a key somewhere in or off the Tampa Bay; I don’t know; it was a secluded beach, and we rented a boat to get there. I woke up, as if chloroformed, to find myself on a beach with ropes binding me in various places. I was wearing a bikini. A head harness ball gag was around my head. While we had friends on site to witness or help film it, it was a solo film. I get myself up to standing while tied up like this, and then I began hopping along the beach. The noon sun beat down on my skin; the sand was hot; the air was salty; the only sounds were the waves and the gulls.
“There. I’ll text a picture to Kendra!” Xandra grabs her phone, “Show her my baby.”
“We’ll see when Mary-Ann gets it; not that she has texting!”
I remember Kendra’s script from that day so well. Mary-Ann walked ahead of me yet behind the camera to make sure there were no dangers in the sand, and I hopped along the track she made in her kindness. Then, Mary-Ann tackled me, put me in a hogtie, and left me there for the duration of the film. Before she left, she taunted me about leaving me on this deserted island for the sun to roast and the birds to pick my bones clean. I cannot help but smile at the recollection.
What a wildcat Mary-Ann is! She harnesses that spirit so well now, but I recall the naïve, often aloof young girl who was terrified of what life after prison would be like. I remember being in there with my friends, wearing orange jumpsuits. How much our moods changed after we were switched to the lavender and black uniforms. We were still humans even if we were in prison. I have come so far as have my friends: friends, sisters, wives, and mothers! I love you, Mary-Ann. Mary-Ann has a flip phone and finally learned to use an iPad; she shuns technology.
“Mmmmmm,” I calmly snap my fingers three times despite my intense captivity; I am done.
“Oh, see. Ash is done,” Hannah smiles at me, “See? She spent 50 minutes in subspace.”
Hannah calmly comes over to me and uses the spare key to unlock the collar around my neck. It is a strange feeling of relief, but my head is still in the clouds. She unlaces the hood and loosens the strap around my neck before slowly, tenderly, and lovingly removing the leather hood. Next, the duct tape is slowly unwound, with sweet care taken not to rip any skin. She unknots the scarf and unwinds the many wraps of it and pulls the key-containing socks out of my mouth. She puts my bandana back in place and sweetly fixes my hair to be back the way I like it.
I smile at Hannah and lean my head against her, and she kindly rubs my cheeks and head before she goes back to her game. It is so refreshing to feel the air on my flush face and neck. It is truly a joy to be in such a position, but a perfectly timed game brings joy when it ends without desires to continue because all satisfaction has been achieved without reaching dissatisfaction. It is clear that this is a time-honored routine that I cherish as much as the binding, gagging, and ignoring. I finally feel peace in my life; I am grateful for my friends and this subspace bondage session. I’m sitting in silence, relaxing, coming down, for 10 minutes, before I finally speak again.
“Hannah, remember that cabin scene we did two years ago?” I ask in a subspace-induced peace.
“Of course. It was unforgettable. The heat; the rope; the anxiety; the anger; the gag!”
“That,” I giggle, “Was the day I knew I was your little sister. You didn’t flinch.”
“We” Hannah squirms at my calling her my sister, “really put in a magnificent performance.”
“Is this the one I watched 6 times and called you both raving about it?” Xandra asks us.
“Yes, that one, because you decided to go play in a shopping mall. Could you detach my legs?”
“Ashley, you’re so cute when you wear your shirt like that,” that sweet Xandra!
“Thank you,” I blush and turn away; it is time for my silent unwinding.
Hannah comes over and detaches my legs from the chair without complaint. She cherishes the rituals from her side as much as I cherish them from my side. It is only partial freedom, but it is better to swing my knees than do nothing after so long. We are so fun and creative with sessions that I cannot describe them all. We’ve shared so many adventures together. Mary-Ann’s spirit comes to mind while Hannah tells a Mary-Ann story from that same filming day.
The point was that Mary-Ann was hogtied and suspended upside down from this tree. One of us was going to walk up to her and put a ball gag in her mouth during the film, and she would try to get out and fail in a sea of shrieking, squirming, wailing, and struggling. Instead, she got a hand out of the ropes within a minute, so we rolled with it and finished the shot with her climbing up the ropes to the tree branch and freeing herself. We had a good laugh about it.
"So, because it was so good and unexpected,” Hannah continues in laughter, “we instead did one where I was hogtied upside-down and drooling, only I really tried to escape and failed. It was 15 minutes of my blood rushing to my head!" Hannah laughs.
"Dang! I missed that in 2018 and 2019, and didn't go this year! In 2021, I'm going to Florida and heading out to the forest with y'all!" Alexandra responds.
"Not to interrupt," I grins, "Hannah, would you please detach me from this chair?”
“Of course, my dear,” Hannah stands up again and walks over, “Anything for you right now.”
“You two are such perfect friends. I know, I know, you have best friends and whatever, but you two are just naturally perfect for each other on a more meaningful level, y’know?”
Hannah now unties the harness, the double waist and chair rope, and the thigh rope so I’m able to hop about. This is exactly what I want; I stand up and wobble just a little but hop to the table to take a seat there with my friends. Hopping is so much fun that I cannot put it into words. Once I am seated, Hannah wordlessly puts a cookie in my mouth. Ah, such sweetness my friend has!
Buttery. Tasty. Sweet. Strawberry. Spritz cookies. How good it is to taste them. Nothing beats a spritz cookie. Hannah’s are just like my grandmother’s, but I find subtle differences that make them both precious to me. Neither is like Momma’s; how I miss Momma’s baking! How I miss my sweet mother! Such happy memories that are coming back to me of that kitchen back home!
"Thank you, girls. Hannah is leaving out the part where it started raining but not lightning. We kept Hannah hogtied and made a Part 2 where Hannah was now on the ground but still hogtied. One of our friends came walking down the forest path as if she were Hannah's kidnapper, taunted her, and coated her in fresh rainmade silty, sandy Florida mud,” I giggle and grin when I finish.
"I don't think I ever saw so much craziness happen in one week," Hannah laughs, "And I was the only one there for every single film even if I had no part in the acting or the production!"
After about 15 minutes of silence, I finally speak again, "Hannah, I am ready. Cuffs, armbinder, rope! All of it must come off!" I giggles as I say the words, "I am ready to be me again."
Yes, Cabin Ransom, Jungle Girl Escape, and Woodlands Terror brought many smiles during production in that forest as did Beach Bikini Hogtie. Those weren’t all that we made during that time in Florida, but those are the ones most precious to my memory. In all of it, I remember one we made here in Minnesota, The Red Car, in which I was dressed in a similar outfit, and Xandra kidnapped me and transported me to a location in her car. There, I was more securely bound and locked in a cage while Xandra mocked me.
It must happen eventually. The ropes on my legs, the harness, the waist rope, the two pairs of the Irish-8 handcuffs, and the armbinder all come off my body. I am free, and I feel free to stretch to relieve my stiff muscles. After a few moments, I pull my bandana off my head. The symbol of a life that is gone forever. This is not just a bandana; it is the only lasting memory of that life that I will never have again; my aunt gave me this before we left for America because even as a child I liked to wear scarves and bandanas both fashionably and especially for pirate games. I cry only a little, but I choke back my tears. My friends understand. I stand and give Hannah and Xandra each a sweet kiss on the forehead. They deserve nothing less for loving me like they have today.
"Thank you for everything. Hannah, it began in prison, but 8 years of beautiful friendship,” but I put a finger to my lips to request they not respond, "I will take a shower now."
THE END
