Chapter 1 – How the Games Began

"Was that all you guys could come up with? Seriously, you should just call it quits already!"

I couldn't believe my eyes. None of us could. All of the ropes and tape we had tied Amy with just twenty minutes ago were neatly coiled on the floor in front of her as she stood with her hand on her hip, twirling a pair of handcuffs around her index finger. Gloating. This was really getting ridiculous! How the hell did she do it!?

Okay, let's backtrack a bit.

Amy had always been a bit of a tease. The lone girl in our group of, let's face it, kind of geeky guys. She wasn't like other girls, though. Loved Dungeons & Dragons, a life-long hardcore gamer and an expert on anime and old Hong-Kong action flicks. She'd grown up with three older brothers and it would seem they had rubbed off on her.

While in most aspects, Amy was just like one of us guys, she also just happened to be gorgeous to boot. Reddish, curly hair and dashes of freckles around a pair of ice blue playful eyes. Yep, that'll do it. Both her legs and arms were kind of long for her stature, which should have made her gangly, but her flexibility and poise leant themselves exceptionally well to her disposition. She had a way of twisting herself into the strangest sitting positions where you sometimes had to stop and ponder if her bones were made out of putty.

We all thought she was awesome, and I'm sure the rest of the guys wouldn't mind trying to get a date with her. None of them had dared though. Me neither, of course.

You could tell Amy enjoyed the attention from this group of misfits. The occasional hug, some very much deliberate but always seemingly unintended strokes of physical contact. She knew exactly what she was doing, balancing on the edge of being flirty without making it obvious.

Then this whole tie-up thing had started. I'm not sure who brought it up first, but Amy had boasted that her brothers had tried to get rid of their bratty little sister on several occasions way back when, by tying her up. Apparently, they had never succeeded.

It probably would have stopped right there if she hadn't dug around in a dresser and found a black satin bathrobe sash. Most of us were in dormitories, but Amy had her own apartment, so we usually hung out at her place, especially on Fridays. A generous enough living area, a kitchenette and a bedroom with access to a small balcony. She'd mentioned in passing that her dad was a landlord, and I suspected she paid close to no rent. Apparently, she'd even gotten him to rent the apartment next door to one of her friends, Brianna, who almost never hung out with us. More of a typical girl. I guess Amy needed those kinds of friends too. Anyway, she'd thrown the bathrobe sash to me and demanded that I tie her hands so that she could show us.

I had never tied anyone up before, so I basically just fumbled my way through wrapping her wrists, finishing with some kind of knot I'm sure isn't in any boy scout manual, unless it's an example of what not to do.

Needless to say, Amy freed herself in about five seconds. I laughed it off, trying to conceal my somewhat wounded pride as she slapped me on the thigh with the sash.

The next week she asked us if we wanted to try once more. Again, with that same satin sash. One of the guys asked if we could tie her hands behind her back this time. Amy just shrugged and said we could tie her however we wished, since she would just escape anyway. We tried and for a few seconds I actually thought we had her. Amy bit her lip, a sign of focus, and tentatively wiggled her arms and rolled her shoulders. It was mesmerizing. And then, just like that, she brought her hands beneath her butt, bringing her bound wrists in front of her. A few seconds later, she had picked the knot with her teeth and was free.

"Feel free to bring other stuff to tie me up with if you wish", she had said. Someone joked and said we should bring a straitjacket. Amy just smiled and shrugged. "Sure, if you can find one!"

From there, things escalated. Tying Amy up became a regular occurrence. It was fun and something to do, but that wasn't the whole of it. There was also an unmistakable tension. One part was that it brought us closer. You can't really tie someone up without making physical contact, at least in passing. That in itself was exciting. But there was also the feeling of contest. A competition. We all wanted to beat Amy at this game and for every escape, the stakes felt like they were getting higher.

Amy made a few rules, though. We were allowed to use whatever we wanted to tie her up, but we would do it in her bedroom. Then, once we were done binding her, we would close the door to her bedroom and give her twenty minutes alone in which to escape. Once those twenty minutes were up, we were allowed back in. If she was free, she won. If she wasn't, victory was ours.

As the game progressed, we had long since moved away from bathrobe sashes. We had rope. We had tape. We had zip-ties and belts. Believe me, we were getting creative, to the point where everything I looked at went through the filter: "Could this be used to further restrain Amy?"

When we brought along a pair of handcuffs, I really thought Amy would object, but she allowed them, as long as we put the keys to them somewhere on her person. When we had probed her on what that meant, she just said: "Anywhere". She got out of the handcuffs as well, no matter how tight they were around her wrists. It was like it didn’t matter how tightly we tied her. Maybe she just turned to mist at will, like some vampire, and slipped free.

Nine times, we had tried. And Amy had us at a 0-9 disadvantage. This Friday, would be our tenth attempt. We hadn't said anything, but it really felt like this was the final showdown. I don't think our egos could take it if we lost ten times in a row.

This was it.

Chapter 2 – Giving It Their Best Shot

When my band of boys enter my apartment, I can feel the tension. The five of them aren’t playing around any longer. Or rather, they're here to play, but they do not intend to lose.

I play the hostess a bit, giving them something to drink, goofing around, until they get a bit more comfortable. They steal glances at me when they think I'm not looking, probably wondering why I'm dressed like this. I usually prefer shorts to skirts, but this week I found this really cool black, bell-shaped skirt with suspenders. On most girls it would end slightly above the knees, but I'm apparently half stork. Thus, on me it ends about halfway up my thighs. I've combined the skirt with a pair of striped thigh-high socks and a white top with the print "GIRLS RULE". I also wear a black velvet choker around my neck along with a lightly tingling cat's bell. Next to it is a delicate brass key. I'm not much for accessories, but this is all vital.

You see, tonight I want to give them a show, and I really want them to realize that I am, in fact, a girl. An aggravating tease of girl. One who needs to be put in her place. I even put some make-up on. A bit of mascara and some other stuff that makes my face pop. Don't ask me about the details. I'm hopeless. Luckily, I had Brianna next door to help me out.

These guys likely still won't get it though. Holy hell, they're all so slow on the uptake they wouldn't know an invitation if it clobbered them over their heads. They've all long since gotten bigger than me. Larger. Stronger. Sometimes I lay in bed, fantasizing about how powerless I would be if they all really decided to gang up on me. They could just hold me down, not a single rope needed. It's just a fantasy. I don't actually want them to. I think. If they could tie me up properly though, there really wouldn't be a thing in the world I could do to stop them. It's scary, but my heart mostly beats with excitement. And since I'm going to escape anyway, I feel safe to indulge in make-believe.

I tell them about the bit of extra incentive I've decided to give them. A locked jewelry box with a reward for all of them if they win. They won't of course. The only way into the box is with the key around my neck, and they only get that if I’m still tied up after the twenty minutes have passed. What's inside the box you ask? I don't tell them that. It would ruin the surprise. It's not jewelry, that's for sure. I don't use much of that. Instead, there's every geeky guy's best friend. $50 Steam Gift Cards for the lot of them. After I win, I plan to show them, pretend I'm keeping them all for myself, then finally give them their rewards anyway. They've been such good sports about this, and they definitely deserve it after losing 0-10 to me like they're about to.

After a short while, we move into the bedroom and get down to business. And today, they are really going all out. There's so much stuff on the floor you can hardly see my round fluffy rug where they usually leave me to struggle.

Tonight, they seem to have found a new method of incapacitating my fingers. These guys are geeks after all. They're clever problem solvers. I get some kind of squishy, soft tennis ball in each hand and then they squeeze my fists into a pair of rubber balloons, the kind you bust your lungs blowing up for a kid's birthday party. It's a tight fit. Then, there's the characteristic sound of a zip tie tightened around each wrist, keeping the balloons in place. For a second, I think they are done, but nope. Black electric tape makes and additional layer around my hands until they look like stumps. No opposable thumbs or dexterous finger tips for me, that's for sure. They did try taping my hands up once before, but this is a whole other level.

After this, its apparently already time to gag me. They figured the necessity of this out quite early on, since I gave them a big hint the second time by picking the knot with my teeth.

"So that you can't give up before you've even started", they say. Joking. Half joking.

They seem to have settled on a large squishy stress ball today. As I challenge them with my eyes, they squeeze the ball, briefly compacting it into a smaller size, and pop it into my waiting open mouth. I think back on how hesitant they were the first time. Just a scarf between my teeth, tied of behind me head. So cute.

The ball inside my mouth expands. It's... really big. And with less give than what it looked like when they smushed it in their large hands. My tongue gets stuck to the floor of my mouth. I prod back a little. As the ball reaches its full size, i realize this would be a struggle to dislodge from between my teeth even with nothing else blocking it.

Thing is, I love being gagged. Having my main way of communicating stolen like this just sends me to a higher plane of existence. It's been like that since as long I can remember. Teasing my brothers, hoping they'd put their hands over my mouth. Pretending to struggle as I mumbled into their palms to ensure myself I couldn't form any words. I'm such a weirdo. Really.

They aren't done gagging me, of course. Next is some kind of medical looking adhesive tape. White and stretchy. They haven't used this before. Apparently, I look confused enough that they explain it's called Microfoam. Or they just like lecturing me. I've noticed they get a bit more brazen whenever I'm tied up. Less submissive. More dominant. Makes sense, since I'm getting more helpless by the second.

This Microfoam strip is quite wide. A single piece reaches from the tip of my chin to just below my nostrils. I notice my breaths are getting shallower and I force myself to slow down so I don't become light headed. The strip stretches across my face to just below both of my earlobes. As they finish rubbing and smoothing it into the pores of my face, I can't resist testing what it can do. I stretch my jaws as wide as I can, then quickly scrunch my face up as much as the ball occupying my mouth will allow. Usually, tape adhesive loosens when you do this and, eventually, you can work your mouth free. But this tape isn't usual. It follows along with every move I make. Stretches and contracts. The wonders of science, used to gag a poor helpless girl in her bedroom.

Well, not that helpless.

Next step is trusty old silver duct tape. I'm not sure how many rolls of this stuff they've gone through by now. But if it's not broken, don't fix it. Unless you fix it with duct tape. I can feel their determination as the sticky stuff is wrapped with more force than usual around my head. It's always a bit of a pain to get it out of my rambunctious curls, but I'm not in any position to complain. Literally. Also, it might have been me who put on a YouTube clip or two to inspire them. But seriously guys, this is tight. I can feel the blood pulsing inside my head. And how many wraps do you plan on doing? I've lost count. I've never been this shut up in my entire life. Good job, guys. Thank you.

Next, they turn their attention to my arms. Tying someone up is mostly about getting their arms under control. Someone with free arms and hands can usually remove any other restraints, given enough time. And they've tried almost every conceivable way to keep my arms restrained. Crossed wrists, vertically parallel wrists, horizontally parallel wrists, arms apart, wrists tied to the bed posts (that one made my heart flutter, not gonna lie). Nothing has worked. So, what are they doing this time?

Well, I am very flexible. I used to boast I was double jointed, until some smartass commented that it was actually called "Joint Hypermobility". Who cares, really. Whatever it's called, I can bend. I used to be bullied for my long arms and legs way back in middle school and that stuff cuts deep. I thought I'd never get rid of my complex completely but hanging out with these guys really helped. They've never said a bad word about it, even though I look like a bit of a freak. It's been a big confidence booster. But now they're about to test the limits of my bendiness.

As they bring my helplessly taped, zipped and ballooned hands behind my back I feel them guide my wrists high, towards my shoulder blades, twisting them until the back of my hands rest on top of each other just below the back of my neck. I didn't really know my arms could do this. They make sure to ask if it's painful. For most people it would be agony. For me? Sure, it's a bit of a strain, but I can take it. I humpf confidently and narrow my eyes to egg them on.

I can tell they're impressed. But even more, I can tell they want to win. They bring a pair of handcuffs. Fair game, as long as I get the key. I hope they remember that. I feel the metal loop close around my wrist. No. Around both wrists, at the same time. A couple of clicks later, I realize my wrists are both stuck in the same loop. I didn't know handcuffs could be used like that. Probably only on lanky, angular girls like me. Then the other loop ratches tight around my wrists again, just below the first. This is way more restricting than ordinary cuffs.

"Cool trick" I try to say with my eyebrows. "But what about the key?"

Amazingly, it seems I'm able to convey the gist of the message with just my trusty eyebrows. They hold the key just in front of my nose. I probably look all goofy as I try to keep my eyes on it. Then I feel my choker loosen. The one with the key to the jewelry box and cat's bell. What the hell? Are they going to open the box? That's cheating!

But I don't have to worry. These guys follow the rules. Instead, they thread the handcuff key onto the velvet, leaving it to dangle along with the jewelry box key, with the cat's bell in the middle. Then I feel the choker getting re-tied. Quite a bit tighter. I mean, it's called a choker, but you guys don't have to be so literal. It's just uncomfortable enough that I subconsciously grasp for the knot with my fingers. Yup, still absolutely useless, stuck as they are beneath party balloons and tape. Not untying anything with those. Yet.

After the handcuffs, the ropes come out. Rope is tricky. You have to be vigilant for any slack, it slides and moves easily. Rope has been their weakness. But as the coils start snaking themselves around me, I realize that they've seriously leveled up. How did they get this good? Can't be just by watching tutorials, right? Wait, they haven't been tying up each other, have they? I really wish I could ask them about it. I'm sure they'd get so red in the face. But I can't. Because I'm gagged so tightly I can't even drool. I'm not saying a word unless they allow it. Until I escape of course.

They're making some kind of harness around my entire torso, trapping my arms and wrists beneath it. Within it. At first, they just tied a doubled up rope loosely around my neck, making knots every so often as it draped down my upper body. Then they actually had the balls to run the rope between my legs. If I listened, I'm sure I could have heard at least one nervous swallow. It feels very intimate. Wait. I chose to wear a skirt today. Which means, that rope is pressing directly into my panties. And it's rubbing against some really sensitive spots. And then, as the ropes slither further around my body, the parts between the knots above and below my boobs as well as my belly gets pulled apart, creating some kind of diamond pattern.

Needless to say, that takes whatever slack there was between my legs way out of the equation. Before I can constrain myself, I roll my hips, squirming in an attempt to alleviate the sensations the ropes are causing. To my surprise, pairs of steady hands pull me straight. They are actually controlling me. Handling me. And the ropes aren't painful, not even down there. Rather, they're assertive. Insisting. Constantly reminding me of their existence.

As they tighten and cinch, every part of me is getting more and more hopelessly captured and fixed in place. I happen to steal a glance in my full size mirror and am left hypnotized by what I witness. My arms are gone. I can feel them on my back, but from the front, it's as if they've completely disappeared. The guys are still cinching, still pulling things taut, still making knots in mysterious places, and for every tug I feel everything become more and more rigid. My flexible trusty shoulders, arms, elbows and wrists are no longer mine to command. The rope decides what they do, and the rope has forbidden every single movement.

Still, that's not what I stare at. My eyes are laser focused on my boobs. I've never had boobs. Not really. Just the aspiration of boobs. Another complex that comes with being a spindly daddy long-legs. But right now, my boobs are on fucking parade. Wrapped, propped and framed by rope, the only word to describe me is... busty. Then I realize. I should probably have worn a bra, but seriously, I've never needed to. Why, you ask? Because right now through the still legible bold print of “GIRLS RULE”, two unmistakably perky nipples are trying to pierce the fabric.

If I didn't know I would escape as soon as my band of boys are done restraining me, I'd be just a bit awkward about what kind of signals my body seems to be trying to send them.

They don't seem to be satisfied, though. I can't blame them. Every time they think they have me stuck and every time I've proved them wrong. Enter: More duct tape. First, they wrap all of the knots. Seriously, as if I could pick any of them loose with my fingers fused into two useless lumps.

After this, they cover me with tape, from my waist to just below my suddenly attention-seeking breasts, then again above them, up past my shoulders to the base of my neck and throat. It ruins the aesthetic of the rope harness a bit, but I do feel even more smushed and compacted and I guess they've always been more focused on function than form. They spared my boobs though. Surely just by coincidence. I try to get a reaction from them as they lower me down onto the fluffy rug, but they are focused like steel. They really want to win.

Naturally, my legs are next. Who knows, I could make a dash for it, or untie myself with my toes or something. Can't have that! My striped thigh-high socks are folded along with my legs until my heels rest against my buttocks. Rope lashes my shins to my thighs until they're virtually fused together. Not all the way down to my ankles though. Curious.

I don't have time to ponder for very long, as my legs are resolutely pulled apart and my ankles crossed. While they are tied and cinched with the usual rigor, I realize something. With my feet tied like this, I can't bring my legs together. If my skirt rides up, I'm on full display. Luckily, the ropes keep my skirt more or less in place, but it would be easy, oh so very easy, for someone to just pull the fabric up and out of the way. Then anyone who had a ticket would be treated to a full matinée starring The Amazing Ms. Amy's Panties. And yeah, speaking about those panties. With all the rubbing and friction going on with that vexing rope, it feels like they are quickly becoming more than a bit damp.

Not kidding, guys. I’m getting kind of ready to start my escape now. Are you about to finish?

Well, almost, it would seem. Some reinforcing tape, covering my legs, of course, couldn't leave my freakishly long gams with just your suddenly expert rope work now, could you? Then I feel another rope anchor itself around my crossed ankles. From my face-down position on my rug I can't see what's going on. Then I feel the rope being pulled through some other rope high on my back, slightly below the back of my neck. Seems like they left it uncovered by the tape? Clever boys indeed. And then the slack on the rope connecting my ankles and my back starts to disappear, until there is none. I'm almost a bit disappointed. Sure, it's restrictive, but they've hogtied me before. It's kinda basic as a final flourish.

Then I feel strong hands lifting my legs, pushing my upper body and my gagged face down into the carpet. My back bends, while all I can do is snort some forgotten crumbs from deep within my fluffy rug. The way I’m forced to bend creates new slack for the rope hogtying me, which is instantly pulled bowstring tight. This process repeats itself again, then two times, then three times until my legs are so high in the air and my face so deep into the carpet that I'm practically upside down. Finally, the rope is securely knotted, and my legs are lowered to the ground. Of course, that means my upper body is no longer at ground level. My body feels like it’s closer to a U-shape. I find a precarious balance, teetering slightly back and forth like the world's weirdest rocking horse.

Yup. That's how you do a flourish.

"Twenty minutes alone, right? Let's see you get out of this one!"

The guys quickly stash any leftover gear into bags and duffels, high-fives each other, then moves into the living room. The door closes behind them.

Chapter 3 - The Trick!

So, I have a bit of a confession to make.

I'm actually not much of an escape artist.

Seriously, if I hadn't made the rule where I could try to get free without the guys around, they probably would have won as early as round three.

That first tie with the satin bathrobe sash, that one was easy. But the second one, where they tied my hands behind my back? Yeah, if I couldn't have brought my hands below my butt and get them in front of me to use my teeth, I probably would have been stuck right there.

So, about the situation I'm in right now? This massive overexaggerated maximum power restraint extravaganza? No chance in hell. I wouldn't be able to free myself if I got a decade, let alone twenty minutes.

A part of me wants to see them come back and find me like this. Part of me is extremely excited for the possibilities that could bring. Especially the part of me between my legs that is currently being rubbed silly by a teasing piece of rope. Especially the parts of me on my chest being squeezed and massaged whenever i try to do as much as tremble. I can't believe how heightened my sense of touch is. I can feel every atom of every fiber that brushes against my nipples.

Part of me absolutely wants to lose. To submit.

Problem is, there's a bigger part. And that part really wants to win. It's just who I am. If I can win, I have to. And the look on their faces when I get to laugh and gloat and jibe while they're absolutely flabbergasted. I can't let that go.

So how do I do it? What's my magic trick?

Are you sure you want to know? An illusion always loses something once the trick is revealed. Maybe you should stop reading here?

No?

Okay then.

I cheat.

On cue, the door to the balcony opens and my accomplice, Brianna from next door, sneaks in.

Yup, it's that simple. Brianna and I share a balcony. It's divided by a folding wall to make it look like they are separated, but they're not. She just relaxes on her side of the balcony, usually sipping a cocktail, until the guys leave me. Then she sneaks in, unties me and leaves.

Sorry to disappoint you. I'm not losing.

"Holy--!"

Brianna almost shouts loud enough to reach through the thick door before she catches herself. She continues, whispering.

"They really outdid themselves this time, Amy! You're tied up like a roast turkey in a bondage club!"

I roll my eyes and still I can't help but giggle. It becomes more of a snort than a giggle though. Brianna is funny. And much more open about her sexual desires than I am. I have to make this convoluted plan to create a competition just to make the guys tie me up. Brianna would just have asked them if anyone was into bondage. I'm not even comfortable with that word. It feels so dirty. Shameful. Tie-up is more innocent. Safer.

But Brianna needs to start untying me now. There is so much stuff on me, twenty minutes might be cutting it close.

"Are you uncomfortable babe? Here, let me help you."

Brianna uses one of my knees as leverage to roll me onto my side. With my ankles crossed, I end up partly on my back, partly on my side. I grunt. Since more of my body touches the ground, some of the stress is relieved. However, my boobs and crotch are now aimed straight at the door. Approximately towards eye level. If anyone were to enter. And with how I'm tied, unless someone moves me, this is exactly where I will stay.

"Wow babe, you look amazing like that." Brianna rubs her index finger over one of my nipples. I can't stop a garbled grunt of pleasure.

Still, Brianna isn't usually like this with me. And she needs to release me soon! Then I notice that she smells of more cocktail than usual. She seems to read my mind.

"Those strong boys of yours took so long, I had more time to sip. Makes me a bit..." she slowly hikes my skirt up, exposing my wet panties "...friskier"

I try to struggle, but it's so beyond useless. I can't speak, I can't move. The only thing that happens is that the cat’s bell on my choker jingles slightly. Like I’m announcing my helpless condition to her. Anyone can do anything to me and I'm powerless to stop it. The thought brings a shudder through my spine. I realize it's not fear, but pleasure. Excitement.

Yet still, I want to win!

"I've been thinking about it, Amy. Even while sober. It's not fair, what you're doing to those boys. And it's not fair to you either. You hide, babe. But I know what you want. It's so obvious it's like you're screaming it from the roof-tops."

Brianna puts a fingertip on the rope between my legs and rubs it softly and slowly while she speaks.

"Look at how you're dressed tonight. You even came to me for a makeover. You want them to want you."

Her touch makes me moan. I'm not even into girls. I think.

"So. I'm going to make some decisions for you", Brianna says as she removes the choker from around my neck and picks out the small key to the jewelry box. "When you told me about your plan for the box, I couldn't believe my ears. Some stupid video game vouchers? Seriously? After all this!? No no no, that just won't do, babe."

Brianna unlocks the box and unceremoniously pockets the Steam Gift Cards. Then she takes out a sealed envelope and puts that into the box instead. I mumble and harrumph behind layers of tape. I should clearly get to consent to the contents of that letter!

I still have one option. I could make a lot of noise, right now. Enough that the guys on the other side of the door would hear and realize something was wrong. Brianna probably wouldn't make it to the balcony in time. The ruse would be up, I could explain the whole thing, once ungagged needless to say, and we could all have a laugh about it.

But as Brianna locks the box, threads the key back on the velvet choker, and reties it unnecessarily tight around my neck, I just make half-hearted pleas, squirming uselessly on the rug with my gangly roped up body on full display.

She puts her hand under my chin. She's really had more than a few cocktails.

"It's exciting, right? Not knowing what will happen?" She gives me a peck right where my lips would be if there weren’t senseless amounts of tape wrapped over them. The bell on my choker jingles again. "Tell me all about your adventures in the morning, babe!"

And with that, Brianna leaves. I’ve been betrayed by the very person who was supposed to save me.

I'm not sure how much time has passed, but from here on out, I change my mind a hundred times. My mind is racing. The guys don’t know about my trick, so they have no reason to believe I did not write whatever's in that letter. The letter that could say anything. I can't take that risk. I need to get out! I genuinely start to struggle but I'm literally caught in my own web. As far as freeing myself goes, my struggles are very much useless, but they have other effects on me. The friction of the ropes against my body, the reaffirmation of my total and utter helplessness. It makes me hot. Fuming. My breath shortens. Until I realize that the door could open any moment, which makes me panic, and then I start all over again.

In the end, it all amounts to nothing, except bringing me tantalizingly close to an orgasm.

Then, somewhere distant, an alarm goes off. And the door opens.

Chapter 4 - Amy's Gets What She Deserves

A few moments later, I'm just as bound and gagged as before. I can see that the guys are staring. Not really knowing what to do. It's like they never really expected to get this far. A dog chasing a car and all that.

Then, the guy who was the first to awkwardly tie my hands makes a move. He removes the brass key, cat bell jingling uselessly as I try to prevent him. He finds the envelope, unfolds the letter and starts reading it aloud while I hold my breath and try not to lose my mind.

Hey Guys, (Seriously, Brianna? "Guys"? They have names.)

If you're reading this, you really did it and I'm laying helplessly bound and gagged before you. I know you're nice guys. If I wrote in here that you should untie me at once and treat me to some pizza, you'd probably do it. (That's true enough)

Don't do that, though. (Unless you want to? Maybe?)

You've won, after all, and winners deserve a reward. I've decided that your reward… is me! (What a way of putting it! Talk about hubris! Who'd want me as a reward?)

So, with that in mind - Here are a few things I enjoy. Feel free to do any of them to me! (Ehh… Brianna? What are you about to list?)

1) Massages (I... honestly thought it would be worse)

2) Whispering all the stuff you like about me close to my ear (Brianna! That's embarrassing!)

3) Tickling - Especially my feet! (Wait, what?)

4) Kneading my boobs and playing with my cute nipples (What!?)

5) Petting (What!?!?)

6) Cunnilingus (WHAAAAT!?!?!?!?)

7) Keeping me right at the edge of orgasm without going over for as long as you possibly can (Noooo...!)

I realize that this might be a bit embarrassing for you. If it makes it easier, feel free to blindfold me. Then I won't know who of you is doing what and you can experiment without pressure! Cool, right? (Great...)

With all my Love

/Amy

P.S. New game! If you make me come five times before sunrise, you win. (F-FIVE!?) Give it your all <3

Epilogue

I'm sure you wonder what happened next. Let's just say that whatever your mind can come up with, it was probably that. And yeah, they blindfolded me. With that satin bathrobe sash.

I knew that if I made enough of a ruckus, they would probably have untied me, or at least checked if anything was wrong. Once they got going though, nothing was further from my mind.

Seriously. There I was, bound and gagged more tightly than in my wildest dreams, with five competitive guys working diligently to hold me simmering just below climax, whispering the loveliest things. Things I never thought I'd hear anyone say about me.

It was the most amazing night of my life.

And about that competition? Yeah, they didn't settle for just five.

I guess us gamers always aim for the highest possible score.