This story is purely a work of fiction. It does NOT describe real events and the characters are fictional. Any resemblance to real events or persons is coincidence. In keeping with its fictional nature, the events and activities described in the story may not be legal, ethical or safe. This site does NOT endorse or recommend their enactment.
Author’s Note: Another adventure for Nat. This time she comes across somebody else who happens to like something a little different, so this is not an exclusively wam-related story. Still, there’s some slop and embarrassment all around. It’s a bit longer than my last two as well, so let me know what you think about branching out like this. Enjoy.
The puddle hit Natalie full in the face. The muddy street water from one of the city’s broken drains stung as it slapped her with a cold that left her whole body chilled. So much for the rain coat. The weather was drech, as the locals would call it, while newcomer Natalie could think of some harsher terms that might be appropriate. She was slowly getting used to navigating a new city and avoiding stumbling in front of buses as she moved around campus, but she could not imagine living with such awful weather until the honours degree was in her hands. She wiped her face with a gloved hand, still astonished to have to be wearing these things in late September, and saw through clouded vision the brake lights of the little hatchback that had so thoughtlessly cruised through a kerbside pool and left her soaked.
What a day. She had only two lectures, but somehow they both had tipped precariously toward disaster. For her first, she realised ten minutes too late she was sitting in the wrong lecture hall. That awkward walk of shame, scrambling out with her laptop and bag, knowing from the whispers and the sensation of so many beady eyes on the back of her head that her faux pas was public knowledge. What else could her reason be for leaving so, so early but that she had cluelessly sat down surrounded by unknown faces and not even twigged what was going on until the unfamiliar lecturer began to explain anatomy? Dammit, Jim, she was an Art student, not a doctor.
Lecture two had gone just fine until toward the end, where during a lull as the lecturer switched some slides, Natalie and shifted back in her seat. The squeal of her black trousers against an ancient leather cushion filled the hall, followed by the requisite giggling. There was pointing, too; she caught it out of the corner of her eye. Bloody barbarians, had they never heard that it was rude to point?
After classes, Natalie had a quick bite to eat and headed to the library for some studying, only to find the doorman waving people away. The towering glass landmark stood dark against the evening; apparently a power-cut had left the building unusable. That was three, Natalie assumed, following that adage that bad luck comes in sets of three. As her face dripped onto her sodden burgundy jumper and her dark trousers gleamed like the wet road, she sighed. So much for that.
On arriving in the city, Natalie had rented a two-bedroom flat above a shop, and got that Pulp song stuck in her head for all of Fresher’s Week. Being a hard-up student, she naturally was splitting the bills, and found herself having signed up to be in the company of a dance student named Keira. Finally getting home, Natalie unlocked the door and heard her room-mate’s voice carrying from the bathroom.
“Who’s there?”
“Just me, Keira,” said Natalie. She kicked off her boots, grimaced as her black socks soaked up icy water from the floor in the hall. “Looks like your quiet night in won’t be entirely alone, the library’s shut.”
“Um… what do you mean, shut?” Keira’s voice rang from the bathroom hitting the tub and the tiles and echoing round the old tenement. There was a tinge of urgency to it, as least as far as Natalie could tell from a room-mate she had hardly spoken to over the last few weeks. Natalie approached the bathroom door and talked to the light gleaming from the crack beneath it.
“Power-cut. I couldn’t even get in. You all right in there?”
“Um…” Keira called. Natalie heard fidgeting, the rustle of the shower curtain, the clatter of the radiator.
“Are you in there with Bill?” Natalie asked. “Look, sorry if I’m interrupting something, I know I said I’d be back late. I thought you were just going to be on your own. I can go… somewhere.” As she spoke, Natalie lifted each foot and pulled off her wet socks. She was not looking forward to going back out in that, and if she had to, it’d be with warm and dry feet.
“Well, I had plans with Bill but he called about an hour ago and said he was called in to cover for someone at the pub. So I’m just sort of… stuck here.”
“That’s fine,” Natalie said with a shrug. “Just let me know when you’re done, I’d like to take a shower. It’s pouring outside.”
She turned to go, her bare heel creaking on a floorboard that was already familiar to her.
“No, wait!” cried Keira. Natalie spun and gripped the door handle, startled by the plea.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… look, I kind of need your help. Could you come in here? The door’s unlocked.”
Cautiously, Natalie turned the handle and nudged open the door. She wasn’t sure what to expect; other than occasional comments over breakfast and while watching TV, her room-mate had mostly kept to herself. Natalie hadn’t even been inside her room. So much for all the films about Sorority Sisters becoming intimate friends and laying together in their nighties, chatting and getting drunk when they were supposed to be studying together. That kind of closeness seemed like another world from Natalie’s experience of university life so far, and joining an almost-stranger in the bathroom was a quantum leap. What exactly were they about to share, here? Was she ill? Doing her hair?
Natalie stopped in the doorway, not sure where to look. Despite being on the toilet, Keira wasn’t naked, so that was a plus. She wore a jogging outfit of a little black sports bra and tiny black shorts. They glistened a little in the harsh light from the bare bulb overhead, along with her skin; she was damp all over with sweat. Keira’s arms were held above her head, clinging to the towel-rail by the toilet where she sat. What held her arms, Natalie could not help but notice with inescapable clarity, was a pair of shiny handcuffs.
“Um…” said Natalie.
Keira blushed, looking at her feet as they curled against the base of the toilet bowl. “Probably no point in telling you this isn’t what it looks like. I didn’t mean to frighten you, but Bill and I… we thought we’d have the place to ourselves. He sent me a text to get ready and then he tells me he can’t come, right after I close…,” she said, indicating upwards with her eyes. “They lock on closing, and I can’t even use my bloody phone,” she added, nodding to the pink-cased mobile sat on the edge of the sink.
Natalie didn’t know what to say. She knew Keira and Bill were, well, physical, and she guessed some evidence of that may crop up at some point in such close quarters. But what was she supposed to do with this kind of information being dropped in her lap, so to speak? How would a quip at breakfast or a sarcastic comment over the television ever be the same between them, now that Natalie knew that sometimes Keira let herself be shackled for kicks?
What would Keira think if she knew what had given Natalie some kicks?
Natalie shook her head, trying to rid herself of all the questions and judgements and fears. Focus. Be practical. The sooner this little episode ends the sooner they can do what British people do best: pretend it never happened. “Where’s the key?”
Keira closed her eyes, cringing. Not a good sign. Nor was the long breath Keira took as she hesitated to tell. “I wanted Bill to get it, so before I put them on I put the key… kinda in my shorts.”
Natalie blinked. “Kinda?”
“Kinda inside the underwear inside my shorts.”
Natalie swallowed. “You put the key in your knickers?”
Even with her eyes closed, Keira turned her head away, her cheeks flushing anew. She squirmed her hips on the toilet seat, making its old creak ring around the bathroom. “Knickers might be a generous word for them.”
Natalie put her hand to her mouth. Her cheeks felt as hot as Keira’s looked, maybe even worse. Whose bright idea was this? She couldn’t believe she was about to utter the next question. “Front or back?”
“Back,” said Keira after a gulp. “Right against–”
“I get it. Maybe I can cut the chain…”
Keira shook her head. “It’s real metal, they’re not toys. Well, they *are* toys, but, you know.”
Natalie looked up to her room-mate’s hands. The fingers wriggled in their trap. “Maybe I could pull down the towel-rail.”
“No!” Keira exclaimed. “We’ll lose our deposit on the flat if we start pulling things off the wall. Pleeease, Nat, help me.”
Natalie sighed. “Fine,” she said. She knelt by the bowl, rested a hand on her room-mate’s knee. Up close, Natalie could tell that Keira worked out. Her dancer’s body was skinny, but toned, with sinewy muscle that arced and rippled gently beneath the surface. Natalie was also face-to-nose with a smooth, damp armpit whose warm scent was something of a clue. Not to mention the outfit; taut Lycra encasing the young woman’s most private areas and little else, providing an emphasis rather than shrouding them. Natalie peeled the waist-band of the shorts back and slid her hand in between two firm curves.
“Mmmph,” whimpered Keira.
“Sorry,” Natalie whispered, trying to make this as quick yet as careful as possible. The last thing she needed was to go too fast and start touching even more awkward and intimate things. This was one way to get to know her room-mate. Natalie felt along the silky smooth line of a white thong which peeked just above the shorts, and found the rigid lump that was the key. When she carefully touched it, Keira jumped.
“Sorry,” Natalie said again.
“It’s ok,” Keira breathed. “It’s just… well, you know where it is.”
“Right,” said Natalie. She carefully nudged it from its resting place, slipping it out from between the thong’s thin strap and her room-mate’s… well, Natalie hoped the key would be washed soon. Once she had a good grip between her thumb and finger, she pried her hand out from the tight material, feeling it press back in against Keira’s cheeks.
“Sorry about the dampness,” Keira whispered. “I’ve been here a while, and I kinda had to go to the bathroom.”
Natalie winced, but soon shook the look off her face. “It’s all right,” she replied. “Could happen to anyone.” She stood up and unlocked the cuffs, releasing Keira.
Keira sagged on the toilet and rubbed her hands and wrists, relieved at not having them held overhead any more. She looked Natalie in the eye, and beamed.
“Thank you,” said Keira. “You were a big help.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Natalie. Like, ever.
“Guess I could do with a shower,” Keira added. She reached over to the tub and turned on the water. “Stay with me for a bit? I’ll keep this on, it needs washed anyway, though it’s not like being naked would be any more embarrassing than what you just saw.”
Natalie, washing her hands in the sink, nodded and smiled. “Sure,” she said, wishing she had the guts to just run to her room. Talking to her in the shower, after this? How awkward could one night get?
“You’re probably wondering whose idea it was,” Keira began, stepping into the tub. She let the water run over her, soaking her bra and shorts, leaving the black material gleaming. Natalie glanced up; she could see her own face reflected, just for a moment, in the shine adorning Keira’s slender bosom. Keira raised her arms and slicked back her hair, rippling taut muscles across her athletic body in a motion even Natalie had to describe as sexy. That simple move practically spelled out sex appeal, and it drove Natalie mad the easy with which she saw friends, actors and models appeared to have perfected it. Natalie sometimes tried it in the shower herself, but always felt so clumsy and awkward. Sexy seemed so easy; so why did she find it so hard?
Keira’s fingers gripped the edges of her taut sports bra, and she already began to tug the sodden material from her skin. “Would you mind getting the curtain?” she asked.
Natalie drew it back, quickly.
“Confession time,” Keira said, practically singing.
Natalie stared. Looking at a shadowy figure through a curtain, crammed into this tiny bathroom, the term confession seemed strangely apt. Particularly given her upbringing. How many times had she found herself stuffed into a cubicle with a strange man and ordered to reveal her most intimate of secrets and sins? Not any more than she’d had to, that was for damn sure.
“There is no Bill,” Keira said.
“Wait, what? What happened to him?”
“I made him up,” Keira explained. “I mean, I guess there are Bills out there, and I did go on one date with a Bill in high school. He wasn’t all that interested, though, just seemed to want to be able to say he had sex at some point in his miserable high school existence and then he ran away when I showed him my toys…”
Natalie shivered and gripped the seat a little tighter.
“Seriously though, I don’t have a boyfriend called Bill. Or a boyfriend at all.”
Natalie’s gaze was drawn to the towel rail. “So you just got yourself half naked and locked yourself up for fun?”
“Yep,” came the voice through the curtain. It sounded strangely believable.
“Seriously?!” Natalie exclaimed. “And you wanted me to go fishing in your bum for the bloody key?”
“No, no, that wasn’t part of the plan,” Keira insisted. “Look, I really am sorry you had to get involved. The cuffs, I got them from ebay. They’re supposed to have a safety catch that gets you out, even without the key. Unfortunately it broke. Only my second time trying them, too. Want to know when the first time was?”
“No!”
“When you went swimming with your cousin,” Keira continued, bulldozing ahead. “Anyway, I guess I should let you know I kind of like doing this to myself. I like locking myself up, getting stuck in some predicament, and pretending I’m helpless. Actually being so, not so much, but the pretending is nice. I find it relaxing, I guess, giving up control like that. You know what I mean?”
Natalie swallowed once more. She looked at the floor, too embarrassed to even gaze at the silhouette against the curtain. “I suppose so,” she murmured.
“So I hope you’re ok with that. I thought I might be in trouble if you found me, a lot of roomies wouldn’t be nearly so understanding. They’d think I’m a freak or something, but everybody does it.”
“Everybody handcuffs themselves to the towel-rail and steeps in their own sweat?”
“Well, no,” Keira laughed. “But just about everybody has something they’re into that seems a bit different. For me it’s a little bondage, and I’m sure there’s something for yourself as well.”
Natalie shook her head. “N-no, not that I’m aware of.”
The shower squeaked to a stop. Keira peeled back the curtain enough to stick her sodden head out. “Really? Not a thing?”
Natalie shook her head again.
“But you get what I mean, right?” asked Keira. “You’ve heard of people having… things they enjoy?”
“Sure,” Natalie said. “Um… I even knew a gi–guy, he was really excited by the idea of… look, do you remember when we were watching TV last week?”
Keira looked nonplussed. “We watched a lot of TV last week.”
“We watched some game-show, and somebody got…” Why was the word so hard to say? Natalie forced it from her tongue. “Got gunged.”
“Oh, right,” said Keira, not seeming to get it. Then, a broad grin. “Riiiight. Your friend likes that sort of thing, does he?”
“Right,” gushed Natalie. “I don’t understand the appeal myself, but whatever floats your boat, right?”
“Right,” Keira repeated. She grabbed a towel and pulled it behind the curtain, then swiftly appeared wrapped and dripping. “You’ll probably want to get in after me. Should be some hot water left. Sorry to keep you so long, with you being out in the rain and everything.”
“That’s fine,” said Natalie, forcing a smile. Soon this awkward exercise would be over, and she could stand in the shower in peace and warmth and not have to keep talking about these things. Keira scuttled off to her room, leaving Natalie to disrobe and take her room-mate’s place in the shower. She washed her hair first, always cleaning herself from head to toe in order. A few flashes of memory came to her; showering with her cousin at the swimming club, rinsing the goo of a punitive gunging from their hair and suits. How many others had stood there, water washing away the deed while the warm steam imprinted the memory? Natalie shook her head, sending water spraying from her dark, sodden locks. She had avoided thinking about it for a while, until this little incident brought it all flooding back. Perhaps flooding was not the best term to use. Still, as excruciating as it had been, it must have been a thousand times worse for poor Keira. She wouldn’t rub it in, but Natalie wondered how Keira would ever live it down. How could she sit across at breakfast, yawn and stretch, without worrying if her exposing pose reminding her room-mate of the time she found Keira tied up in the bathroom?
Well, she’d have to learn to live with it, thought Natalie. Just like she had to live with the ghost of a smirk appearing every time she saw her cousin. They didn’t talk about it, much, but Scarlett had been dropping hints that she’d like Natalie to come swimsuit shopping with her soon. Was she hoping Nat would join the club full time? Fat chance. The last thing she wanted to do was risk another gunging. Natalie shook her wet head and tried to dispel the thoughts. A little singing in the shower, she thought, might improve her mood.
“That’s what you get when you let your heart win, whoooaaa–ahhh!”
Something hit her head and shoulders with a damp squelch. Natalie’s shriek sounded piercing in the tiny bathroom. She threw her hands to her head, feeling squishy dollops of gunk curdling between its dark strands. As she drew her fingers back in disgust the clingy scents of tomato and garlic and butter rushed up her nostrils.
“Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain,” cackled a voice. Natalie did the opposite: before she even thought about it, her sticky hands pried back the curtain and with one non-gooed eye she glared out into the light. Standing there in just her plain white underwear was Keira, smirking as she held on to a hefty black pot with one hand.
“What the hell?!” demanded Natalie. Then reality dawned; she had just exposed herself, naked and wet, not to mention slimed, to a room-mate she barely knew. Natalie grasped for the curtain again but lost it in the greasy combination of butter and sause, giving Keira time to bring out her other arm.
SPLAT. It really sounded like that as the soft, cool stuff hit her face and the noise hit the tiles. Natalie gasped out a puff of air and reached for her eyes, one hand hovering between her legs as she tried to maintain a shred of modesty. Her attempt to wipe the fluffy cream simply slid stinking sauce around her face and hair. Unable to see where to go, afraid of what was coming next, she stood still, stupefied and defeated.
“Oh my god,” was all she could say.
“Remnants of last night’s dinner,” explained Keira’s voice. “Spaghetti and sauce and some gateaux. Somebody forgot to put it in the fridge so it went a bit funny overnight. Not quite as funny as you look right now, though.”
“How… Why…” stammered, Natalie. Though she couldn’t see through the cake and sauce and jumble of noodles now sliding off her head, she kept her eyes closed against the world that must surely be all staring and laughing at her. Even if, right now, that world only consisted of one quiet room-mate. A hand grabbed hers, tugged her gently into the shower’s hot flow again.
“Here,” said Keira. “I’ll let you get washed. And don’t forget this…” she added. Natalie felt a short, smooth cylinder being pressed into her palm. It had some sort of nodule on one end and, when her exploring finger nudged it, the whole thing shivered.
“Have fun,” Keira said, sounding endlessly amused. “And tell your ‘friend’ that ‘he’ doesn’t need to worry about keeping any secrets from me.”
Natalie felt the curtain swish back over her, heard the door click shut. She was alone now, soaked and slimed; naked and humiliated. She cringed against the weight of slop on her head and face, almost wishing she could be sucked into it and consumed, rather than have to eventually go back out there and face a young woman who had just seen her naked. Naked, not only in body, but in mind. How had Keira figured it out? Was Natalie’s discomfort and conflicting feelings about this sort of thing so obvious? Natalie shoved her face under the shower, held her hands there as if to hide as much as to wipe away the cream and sauce. And as she stood there, almost miserable from shame at her exposure, she could not ignore the fluttering in her gut, the electricity running through her thighs, and the deep, involuntary curl of her toes. She slicked her hair back, feeling the goo gum up between her fingers. As she struck that casually sexy pose she had seen come so easily to Keira, Natalie could not help but feel a faint smile escape her. For perhaps the first time, she felt kind of sexy herself.
Natalie had half a mind to toss Keira’s little implement in the bin and read the girl the riot act about personal space. But as she stood there, overcome with sensation, she realised one simple point: where would the fun be in that?
* * *
Natalie felt light-headed as she stepped into her bedroom. She had not thought to bring clothes with her to the bathroom so had made a ghostly flight across the hall in a towel, hoping to avoid any contact with Keira. The last thing she needed was to be asked if she ‘enjoyed her shower’. No matter what answer she gave, her inevitable flush would give it away. Fortunately it seemed Keira was hiding out elsewhere in the flat, so Natalie was able to enter her sanctuary and looked forward to flopping down on her bed.
Except, the bed was occupied. For a split second she thought it was Keira, and that would have been a little too much on this wild night. Clutching her chest, Natalie found that the skinny figure she thought she had spied out of the corner of her eye was simply a set of clothes lain out on her duvet. Well, a set was perhaps a bit generous, and ‘clothes’ implied somewhat more coverage than this skimpy black bandeau and bikini briefs offered. Natalie did not think herself a bikini sort of girl; this was her first and only such outfit, a half-rebellious, half-conceding to peer-pressure purchase that she had got right before going on holiday after finishing high school. The plan was to lure the boys in and make her parents well aware that their daughter was growing up and about to fly the nest, but she had felt so self-conscious once she had it on she spent most of her time hiding in the water and never wore it again. Her younger brother’s running commentary on how many Spanish boys had given her a double-take did not help much either. Now somebody had dug them out of the bottom of her drawers and set them out on her bed, and that somebody had left a little card peeking from the waistband of her bikini bottoms. That somebody was surely Keira, but the last thing Natalie wanted to do was be face-to-face with her room-mate. She picked up the card and read it, searching for a clue.
The Hellfire Club
1776 University Avenue
Fridays 6pm.
Guests may enter only on surrender of this card.
Well, for the first time since starting uni, Natalie had something to do on Friday night.
Image may be NSFW.
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Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
