Gromet Deals with Two Bad Interns

by Cynthia Trusscot and Max Roper

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© Copyright 2016 - Cynthia Trusscot and Max Roper - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF; sbm; MFF/mf; bond; rope; gag; caught; punish; dungeon; chains; cuffs; chairtie; torment; nipple; tease; denial; humor; cons/reluct; X

“We're in real trouble, here.” said Max.

“Damn right,” agreed Cynthia. “If Gromet figures out what we did...”

“...We'll get punished for sure.”

“Not that. We won't get punished the way we want to get punished!”

“True,” sighed Max.

Our hero and heroine had been doing some menial work for Gromet, a task he assigned allowing them to work off some of what they owed him. Instead the pair had wandered through the Plaza checking out the various delights, gotten entirely lost and managed to spill all of Lobo’s stories into a jumbled mess. They were aware their host was now looking for them.

Cynthia paced back and forth, her high heels clicking on the hard floor.

“Okay. We'll have to come up with a distraction. Make it look like something else entirely happened.”

“Got to make it look good,” added Max.

“Right. How about.... you tie me up, then tie yourself. We'll tell Gromet that the Bad Guys burst in, overpowered us, tied us up, then messed things up and left, leaving us bound and helpless.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Cynthia smiled. “I thought you might.”

“What'll we use? To get tied up, I mean.”

“You kidding? This is Gromet's place. Every chamber has lockers full of rope, leather, and chains.”

A quick search turned up everything they needed to stage their little charade.

“Now, you tie me up first,” said Cynthia. “Then I'll tell you how you should tie yourself.”

“Always willing to oblige a lady,” he said as he sorted through the ropes and selected several lengths of 8mm hemp.

He gently pulled her arms behind, placing her forearms parallel. Several quick wraps round the wrists were followed by a few loops round her body, under and above her breasts. He tied used a lark’s head to attach another rope and continued with an improvised chest harness, pulling the ropes over her shoulders and cinching everything down tight. Cynthia purred a bit as he knotted the ends.

“Can you sit up on your heels, darling?”

She did as requested and he quickly and efficiently roped her ankles to her thighs individually, allowing her to remain upright with little difficulty and allowing him a delightful view of her nylon-clad legs, all nicely doubled up.

“You look absolutely delectable,” he said with a slight tremor in his voice. He ran his hands over her breasts.

“But wait. What about a gag? You ought to be gagged, but if you are you can't talk me through my tie-up.”

“Right. Hmmm. Here—put that cloth strip through my mouth, and knot it loosely behind my head.”

Max did so. Cynthia bit down, then tongued the cloth out of her mouth. “There. It has lipstick and tooth marks on it. Obviously, I was gagged, and I got it out just before they found us.”

“Okay. Hope this works. Now what should I do?”

“First, strip, dear. Down to your skivvies.”

Max wasn’t sure why Bad Guys would make him strip while leaving an attractive woman fully dressed, but he liked the idea so quickly took off his shoes, socks, shirt and trousers, throwing them into a heap across the room.

“Woo Hoo,” giggled Cynthia. “Lucky for you I'm tied up. Now sit on the floor, yoga fashion. Tie each ankle to the top of your calf, just under the knee.”

A few minutes later, she continued. “Now buckle that leather gag into your mouth. No, not the little one. The one with the penis on it.”

Giving her a dirty look, Max gingerly inserted the stubby dildo into his mouth and buckled the strap around his head.

“That's good. Now tie a 'V' line between those two bindings, and sit on it so the tip of the 'V' is behind you. Take that other piece of rope, pass it around your elbows behind you, then around your body. Pull it as tight as you can, and knot it so that your arms are drawn together behind you.”

Max pulled the line as tight as he could manage, drawing his elbows together behind himself.

“Last bit, dear. Make a loop of that line, with a cinch in it and a tail. Put your wrists through the loops. Now the hard part. Can you tie a sheet bend in the middle of that 'V' with the tail? Well done! Now pull your legs forward to cinch up your wrists. There we are! Obviously, two workers captured by the baddies and tied up, left to struggle helplessly while waiting for rescue. Speaking of which...”

Cynthia began fighting the ropes that bound her. Jerking and twisting, she strained against the cords, her breasts bobbing as she writhed. Her grunts of effort turned to moans of pleasure as she enjoyed the tight embrace of Max's ropework.

Max enjoyed the show while doing his own squirming, making little noises behind his gag. The bulge in his jockeys was quite noticeable, as was the wet spot at the tip.

After several minutes of pleasurable effort, the sound of people approaching was heard. Cynthia belatedly realized that she wasn't gagged and started screaming: “Help! Help! Get us out of this! Help!”

Max added muffled entreaties. Both thrashed around against the bonds holding them.

Gromet walked in, flanked by two women in the uniform of his personal guard: White halter tops, leather miniskirts, and black spike-heeled boots.

“Oh, I'm so glad you found us!” started Cynthia. “We were doing what you ordered us to do, when all of a sudden these guys burst in and--”

“Put the gag back in,” ordered Gromet. “I don't want to hear any lies. You two failed to follow my orders. He tied you up, then you told him how to tie himself. How did I know? Because you--” pointing at the newly-gagged Cynthia – “like to have someone tie you up, and you –” pointing at Max – “are expert at self-bondage. It's what I’d do in your place.”

“Don't release these two,” he ordered the two guards, “We’re going to teach them what bondage and discipline are all about.”

In a few moments, the two were standing, their hands and arms tied behind their backs, efficient gags in their mouths, their ankles cuffed and hobbled.

Chains tinkling, the guards prodded them out of the workroom and down the dank corridors of Gromet's Plaza of Pleasurable Restraint.

They were led through a doorway at the end of a corridor and into a large room. There were mirrors on the walls and several odd pieces of equipment standing about, plus some sturdy, straight-backed wooden chairs. Tied to one of the machines was a young woman in glasses, a crop-top, jean shorts, and work boots with pointed toes and spike heels.

“You ladies take care of the guests. I’ll see if I can repair the damage they did to my files. Oh – and release my Engineer.”

Gromet went back out the door, leaving the captives to the nonexistent mercies of the guard women. As one guard unfastened the female designer of Gromet's various apparatus, the tallest turned to Cynthia.

“You,” she barked. “Back up against that post, get down on your knees, and close your eyes.”

Kneeling while wearing a pencil skirt and with one’s wrists and arms bound behind requires care and balance, however Cynthia did as she was told. Kneeling require her to straddle a round wood piece, which forced her skirt up above her stocking tops as she carefully knelt. The other guard turned to Max.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you for long time, you condescending ass. You think you can go around correcting everyone’s grammar like some sort of prissy old English teacher.” She turned him so he was facing the mirrored wall and slammed one of the chairs against the back of his knees causing him to drop onto the seat.

“Have a seat,” she said, needlessly.

Max was instantly set upon by both women. They were quick and efficient and it was but a few moments work before he was bound to their satisfaction. As they moved over to Cynthia he was able to see himself in the mirror. His arms were pulled behind the chair and bound at wrists and elbows. His legs were spread wide apart with his ankles tied to the rear chair legs. The strain on his joints was somewhat more than he was used to, however his attempts to convey his discomfort were made indecipherable by the gag.

Meanwhile the first guard had threaded Cynthia's wrists through holes in a wooden piece that clamped them securely behind the wooden post, and was efficiently tying her torso to it. Rope criss-crossed between her breasts and around her slender waist. Her ankles were fitted into semicircular cutouts and locked down.

The taller more muscular guard came back to where Max was sitting quietly, attempting to find a way to get somewhat comfortable. The near-complete lack of movement his position afforded made success unlikely.

“I understand you like to squirm around while tied up. Am I right.”

Max shrugged, then nodded.

“Can’t do much wriggling, can you?”

He shook his head. This wasn’t much fun.

“And I understand you like to find something, a rope or whatever, that you can rub on to get yourself off.”

Another reluctant nod.

“Any luck with that?”

Another head shake.

She laughed. “Well keep trying.”

As she walked away, Max redoubled his efforts to squirm, but his captor knew what she was doing. There would be neither escape nor an orgasm for him. Not tied like he was.

Cynthia, now tightly tied to the wooden apparatus, flinched as the guard came back. The device moved, rocking gently back and forth.

“You have a pretty big clit, don't you, sweetie?” said the big redhead.

That's one way of describing my anatomy, thought Cynthia. Her gag precluded any verbal response. She strained against the tight bonds. The apparatus moved again.

“And you like to squirm while tied, too,” she said. Cynthia nodded warily.

“Ms. McAndrew calls this her Hobby Horse,” continued the guard. “Any movement makes it rock back and forth, which causes the built-in vibrator to press into your slutty bits. The more you thrash about, the harder—it gets. So try not to move, dear.”

Smiling, she turned away. Cynthia jerked against the ropes and wood pinning her body, and received a heavy jolt on her most sensitive areas. Fortunately, the gag muffled her scream.

Max had been sitting quietly, eyes closed, his erection finally subsiding, allowing him a little relief, trying to ignore his partner’s ordeal. A light touch to his inner thigh brought him back. His eyes flew open and he was rewarded with the sight of the gorgeous brunette guard squatting between his legs. He had a delightful view of her cleavage and oh, those doubled legs, all that delightful flesh bunched up in such a fetching manner. She was giving him an up-from-under look as she ran her index finger up his leg, lightly brushing the aching bulge in his shorts, bringing back the erection and the near-unbearable desire.

“Don’t go drifting off on me, mister. I want you right here, right now, experiencing every little thing.”

She reached into a pouch on her utility belt and produced a pair of small clamps.

“Know what these are?”

Max shook his head violently in useless denial.

“Don’t know? She knows, don't you, sweetie?” she spoke to Cynthia, “Well maybe I should show you.”

Ignoring his muffled complaints, she moved behind his chair, He watched in the mirror, wide-eyed, unable to resist as she wet her fingers and gently stroked his left nipple, getting it nice and firm, before snapping the clamp onto it. He gasped into his gag as she repeated the process on the right side.

“I understand pain isn’t your thing. Am I right?”

He nodded.


“I think this one needs a set of those, too,” said the second guard. She unbuttoned Cynthia's blouse and teased her tits out from her black lace bra. Deftly, she clipped a pair of clamps onto her already-erect nipples. Cynthia moaned at the new torment, then bucked as the vibrator went off once again. Her fists pulled against the unyielding wood holding them behind her back.

A few hours later the two guards were sitting by the door, playing cards while keeping an eye on their captives when a loud klaxon began blaring. They jumped to their feet and, after checking their communicators, rushed out the door.

It was frighting to be helplessly bound and gagged while all the bells and whistles went off. Cynthia strained against the bonds holding her to the apparatus. The vibrator pressed against her crotch went off at random intervals. The weighted chain on Max's nipple clamps swung from side to side as he bucked against the hemp rope binding him.

Then, with a mechanical ”Ping!” Cynthia's wrist and ankle stocks popped open. 'Remote control release', she thought. She quickly undid the knots holding her body to the post, removed her gag, and ran to Max.

“Let me get those things off you,” she said, removing his nipple clamps.

“What about yours?” he asked as she removed his gag, pointing to the chain swinging between her tits.

“Oh – those things never bothered me,” she said with a smile. In a moment, both of them were free and more-or-less redressed. The tip-toed out into the still noisy hall.

“This way,” said Max. They had gone only a few steps toward escape when several things happened. The alarms stopped. A portcullis slid down behind them. And Gromet stepped out in front of them. He held his finger to his lips, and beckoned them through a secret door....


Several moments later, the two guards returned to the torment chamber. “Where'd they go?” asked the short one.

“Great. They escaped. We're in real trouble, here.” said the tall one.

“Damn right,” agreed the short one. “If Gromet finds out we let them get away...”

“...We'll get punished for sure.”

“Not that. We won't get punished the way we want to get punished!”


“Okay. We'll have to come up with a distraction. Make it look like something else entirely happened.”

“Got to make it look good,” added the other guard.

“Right. How about - we tie each other up....”


“You don't really need to be in chains, dear,” said Gromet. Max and Cynthia were sitting in Gromet’s opulent office sipping coffee. Max was free, Cynthia wore handcuffs and leg irons.

“Oh, I just want to look sexy,” she replied with a smile. Gromet smiled back.

“I guess I owe you two an apology.” said the Aussie Porn Czar. “After someone -” he gave the pair an appraising look - “messed up the Forum I added another level of security to the stories but hadn’t had a chance to add it to the oldest ones yet,” he said.

“Apparently two Bad Guys got out of one from 2003. They almost caught me when Irene and Megan showed up.” He nodded at the two guards standing by the door. “If they hadn’t been so alert, who knows what might’ve happened to me.” A vague look of disappointment crossed his face.

“I’m not sure how they could’ve gotten from the Old Story Vault to where you two were found. The whole thing strikes me as somewhat suspicious but there’s no denying there were in fact two Bad Guys on the loose. So relax, make yourselves at home. But don’t break anything. I have a couple guards to deal with.”

Max and Cynthia exchanged looks of amazement. Somehow they’d gotten away with it. This time.


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