Not a Relaxing Weeend

Having spent the early afternoon having a late lunch with her friends, something that any other day would have been the highlight of her day, Miranda was lost in thought and had missed most of the conversation. The conversations about who was fucking who and how ugly someone was that were usually held around her circle of 'friends' never really mattered to her. She didn't really care about such things, mostly feigning interest and keeping mental notes of the juiciest of details for potential leverage. It was usually not that hard for her to keep up her façade around the clique, but her mind had been wandering a lot that day. So acting as if she was having a stomach ache, she quickly drove the other girls home in her relatively new Porsche, that had been the ire of a few of them in the past weeks, and took off. Overshooting her home, she took a long drive out by the beach to clear her head. She parked the car by a park near the beach road and sat there pondering.

Her mean attitude towards others was something she had developed and sharpened over the years into a deadly weapon, meant to be wielded against anyone and everyone that got in her way. She had talked shit and chewed out a great number of people in her life, most of them more than a few times. She had even been mean to her quite a lot, but today felt different for some reason. She played back the scene in the shower again and again in the theatre of her mind, searching for what was different. It was nagging her so badly she almost wanted to tear out her hair from frustration. Why was she so bothered about a little shit talk to some nobody? Why should she even care? That big oaf had it coming as her friends had confirmed. But still she couldn't help the twinge of remorse grasping at her stomach. Or perhaps it wasn't a complete lie when she said she had stomach problems.

And that's when it occurred to her. It was the moment she had called Ashton a perv. But why? Was it because she had looked at her breasts? Bid deal, they all shower naked in there; every one of those girls could take a look. Shit, even she had done that a few times. And that girl, even if she was an idiot, sported a great pair of tits. And all the extra workout lately had made her body reach new levels of fit and sexy. Miranda couldn't lie to herself; that much she knew. She had ogled Ashton's body plenty of times, but she was discreet, always making it seem as if she was looking for something to make fun of her for. And snapping her butt today, the way it jiggled made her heart skip. But it would never work out, not with a girl like her... Wait. She was staring at my tits, but not just out of surprise, was she? Miranda's mind started to race again.

Pouring over the scene in her mind again, she looked for any kind of sign, anything she could use to determine causality. But all evidence was circumstantial; nothing was solid enough to be a lead. Maybe though? Maybe there was something there? I can't be sure if I don't try, but if I try and it backfires what then? And maybe I should stop watching so many crime series. Losing herself in her thoughts again, Miranda got out of the car and sat on the hood to enjoy a bit of the sunshine and the sea breeze to cool off. In the end, after a few calculations about the risk of such a move, Miranda whipped out her phone and started searching through her University's page contacts. Surely she would find Ashton there. Indeed, after a few minutes of searching, there she was, Emily Ashton, upcoming soccer team star of the year. Opening the DM screen Miranda pondered once again over the best way to open such a conversation.

What was she doing? What exactly could she write, how could she do what she wanted to do? It's not something that happens out of the blue. Miranda didn't even really know her, for crying out loud! And she was willing to bet her ass that Ashton -- Emily knew even less about Miranda. She collected information like a sponge, ever vigilant for details and secrets that could be used against anyone that would challenge or threaten her. But even so, Emily was a bit of a question mark for her. A few taps on the screen got her a bit more info. The girls' parents owned a small business in town and they probably made enough to live comfortably, but not to support a Uni such as Miranda's. Which meant Emily was in with a scholarship, most likely a sports one. No wonder she was working so hard for the soccer team. Great, more info to use against her maybe but nothing to help her immediate case -- questions!

Shaking her head in frustration again, her golden hair fluttering in the wind, Miranda took a deep breath. She could ask the snake pit that was her friends if they knew anything but it was risky. They would want to know why she was interested all of a sudden. Nah, she could probably shake them off, but still, she had to be careful. And it would take some time for the answers, if there were any to come that way. A DM was out of the question. Ashton -- Emily, she corrected her own brain again, would probably flinch at a message from the Queen Bitch of Uni and not respond; not ideal. Miranda laid her back on the hood, staring at the sky, ignoring the passersby that gave her weird looks. All of this left her with no options other than to wait and set out feelers. But it would take time. And she hated waiting.

She shot upright, a flash in her eyes! There was another way, if she could pull it off. Going directly to Emily, and saying she felt awful for today, which she kind of did actually, might give her a window to see through. And the best part, her snake pit would be none the wiser. Tapping on her screen again, searching and maybe breaking the law a bit, she found the folder in the data archives of the University, which she was totally allowed to do, hm. Reading through, she got the address, pasted it into her GPS and got into her car again. It was a fifteen minute drive to the Ashton residence. She pulled out of the park and was off, excitement beating in her heart. At the very least, she would not be bored for the rest of the afternoon.

Twenty minutes later, Miranda pulled up into the empty driveway, at the end of a quiet neighborhood. Picking up the bag with the ice cream cake beside her, a peace offering and a possible playing card against Emily's parents, Miranda strolled casually in her skinny jeans up to the front door. Knocking on the door yielded no results. Ah, she cursed her luck, maybe they were gone. It would explain the empty drive-in and garage, which she had already peeked through. She tried again, calling out Emily's name, in an effort to coax her out. No response.

It irritated her to be left without answers, and knocking for a third time made no difference. She waited a few more seconds, and then took a look around the street. No other house was in earshot or clear line of sight. She took a look through the side windows into the house, if only to confirm no one was standing there, not wanting to open up. A risky move, if someone saw her it would be at the very least embarrassing. No one there, as she had already figured. But as she turned to leave, she spotted it with the corner of her eye. The back door to the garden. Maybe they were outside, enjoying the afternoon sun. Miranda was willing to bet at least someone was back there. Her mind raced. What if the door was broken through? She had to at least look into that. Or so she could tell anyone that asked. She passed her car and took the walk around the house, following the stone path leading to the back garden's door.

Miranda called out again, for anyone to hear, but again there was no response. The door she was walking up to, she realized, was slightly ajar. Now she was actually getting suspicious. Straining her ears against the sounds of the spring fauna, she could hear someone loudly breathing somewhere behind that fence. Was someone hurt? She slowly pushed open the door, taking in the details carefully. There was a discarded backpack and a bike on the side of the garage wall, along with a shirt and, oh my, a bra! She pushed the door a bit more, taking in the rest of the discarded clothing on the grass. What had happened? She froze, and for a moment her thoughts went back to all the crime series she'd been watching. If someone had broken in and did who knows what to Emily, she might be next. The thought had her reaching for her phone to call for help, her mind racing. But as she jerked her hand towards her pocket, she accidentally nudged the door to open up more.

Miranda nearly dropped the bag she was holding as she took in the sight before her. Right there on the grass, utterly naked save for a very small thong, laid Emily Ashton, her hands and legs spread out into an X shape. Rope and leather encircled her limbs, binding her to the large iron nails driven into the ground. She almost screamed, she might have if she hadn't noticed the slow breathing of a sleeping person, the gleaning pair of scissors near the tied up girls' hand and the soft buzzing that emanated from her crotch. This was not the work of an assailant, she quickly realized, taking in all the other details, the bag on the porch, the phone discarded on top of it. Willing her heart that was almost dancing off of her chest to slow down, she straightened up, her mind now racing a very, very different way.

She dared not breathe loudly; for fear that the beautiful, voluptuous girl would awaken at the sound, until she noticed the cords of Emily's headphones. Even if music wasn't playing through them, the noise cancellation would keep the naked girl from hearing her for now. If she was doing this in the open, then her parents were away, and would be for a while. Quickly taking in the situation, she realized that the only way out of this self-imposed bondage Emily had was the pair of scissors near her hand. Miranda decided that this opportunity was too good to pass up on. She took out her phone and quickly snapped a few photos of the view in front of her. Then she gingerly walked around the girl, giving her a wide berth to not disturb her, and reached for the pair of scissors, tucking it into the back pocket of her jeans. That was it; with two moves she had taken full control of Emily for now. No other means of escape, but even if there was, the pictures in her phone held a whole lot of power. She felt a rush down in her belly and up her heart she had rarely felt before. Complete control. A smile was slowly forming on her lips.

She set the half-forgotten cake down on the porch, in the shade, and made for the garden door again. She closed it, and fed the deadbolt through its lip, securing it. Just in case someone decided to snoop around. Someone other than her that is, of course. She took another long look at Emily, as if to make sure she wasn't imagining it, and her smile fully formed. Somewhere down below, humidity and heat slowly took form. But she had to get more information. The girl was sleeping for now and Miranda was in no hurry to reveal her presence yet. She stalked quietly over to the table and picked up Emily's phone. There was a five-digit pin on the lock screen. Hmm. She brought out her own phone and was quickly scanning over the Uni file on Emily. Birthdate? It was a bit too obvious but wouldn't hurt to try. She was genuinely surprised to hear the unlocking sound coming from the phone. Seriously? First thing anyone would try? No wonder she had forgotten to lock the door.

Oh well, it granted her the access she needed. The app the phone unlocked to was a weird one, with sliders, numbers and... no, not just numbers, minutes. The realization lit up her face even more, set her loins churning. It wasn't a thong. It was a vibrator. And a remote one at that... But there were two sliders... which meant there was another one somewhere. She tucked that knowledge away for now and opened the messaging app.

Scouring over the recent conversations told her all she needed to know. Her parents were indeed gone for a few more days, and there were no plans with her friends in the near future. Emily was at her complete mercy. Armed with the confidence that that knowledge provided her, she casually strolled in to the house with the cake bag in hand looking for the fridge. Finding it, she took a look inside and fitted her now useless playing card into an empty spot and grabbed a couple of water bottles. Setting those on the kitchen counter, she set about exploring the house, taking in everything. Her exploration led her eventually into Emily's room, where a wide assortment of bondage gear was strewn across the bed. Miranda let out a low whistle, checking out all the gear before her.

She knew what most of it was. One of her previous boyfriends had been into tying others up. She had actually found out that she rather enjoyed it too. But not in the receiving end, it seemed. And that had been the reason that relationship crashed and burned, she told herself. It certainly wasn't anything else that was the problem, nuh-uh. Mentally waving away that thought, she took another gander at the bondage gear in front of her. This would be fun! Rummaging through she found the two items she expected to find, pocketing them gingerly. The rest she could come for later. There was a laptop on Emily's desk, she noted for later use. She had all afternoon to look at those, but for now she headed leisurely back down the stairs. Leaving the pair of scissors on the kitchen counter and picking up the water bottles, she headed back out to her sleeping, unaware captive.

With Emily's phone in hand, Miranda sat down on one of the lounge chairs and placed the bottles next to her. Unlocking the phone with the code she had already memorized and gently tapping and sliding away at the screen, still smiling, she laid back and awaited for the focus of her attention to awaken.