“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
She sat down at the table, trying not to wince from the feeling of the rope grinding against her slit. The longer she was bound, the more sensitive she was becoming.
“Hey, look over there. It’s Thane. I heard he’s been missing a lot of classes.”
Helena looked to where her friend was pointing, spotting the disheveled student. “So what?”
“If Thane is missing class, it means he’s busy, and considering the work he does with the priests, it’s important. He’s an exorcist after all. Rumors say he’s been snooping around the school, looking for some kind of demon or something.”
Helena stared at him with wide eyes. ‘Wait, he’s looking for a demon? Is it possible that he knows Xavier is here? Maybe he can help me!’
Father Hauser sat in the waiting area by the entrance to the tabloid building. He had managed to convince the chief of the magazine to see him, and hopefully he could get more information on the suicides. Behind her desk, a receptionist got a call through her intercom.
“Father, he’ll see you know.”
He nodded in gratitude and walked over to the closed office door, which had a window of blurred glass with the chief’s name and title. He stepped into the office, the walls lined with framed headlines from the magazine. Working at his computer was the chief, an overweight balding man.
He stood up and shook Hauser’s hand. “Ah, Father Hauser, what can I do for you?”
“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Elan. I’m here because I wanted to ask you about the story you posted last week, about the three boys who killed themselves.”
“Father, I’m sure you know I can’t give up my sources, even to a man of the church.”
Hauser sighed. “Well then I was hoping you could tell me any other pieces of information you might have. I’m worried that there may be something going on with these deaths.”
“Oh please, you think you’re the only one? We weren’t the first paper to say they were doing Devil worship. Every media outlet is being hounded by zealots.”
“Well what I’m curious about is the fact that they were coming from a hospital. Can you at least tell me what you know about that?”
“Well from what we heard, they got assaulted that morning.”
“Wait, do you know by who?”
“Now I certainly can’t just give you that information. I do have—”
“I hereby absolve you of all your sins.”
“There we go. Supposedly it was a girl from Rosewood University.”
“Come on, O’Connor! Try to keep up!”
Regardless of the coach’s barking, Helena struggled to keep up with the other girls. It was gym class and she was swimming in the university pool. With the invisible ropes binding her, any kind of physical activity was a nightmare. She never realized how much she moved her torso when swimming, and every time she gasped for air, she felt her breath being halved from the tightness of the restraints. Then there was the humiliation she was feeling. Everything she had seen and experienced so far today told her that the ropes were invisible, but when wearing nothing but a school swimsuit, she felt like the whole world could see her in this shameful straightjacket. Then there were the lines, the black lines on her skin, as wide as her fingers and clear as day. Luckily, swimsuits at a Catholic school were as modest they could be. They were more like wetsuits but with shorter sleeves and pants legs and covering her throat like a turtleneck, so her collar and the binds around her shoulders were covered.
The class was supposed to do five laps, but by the time all the other girls were done, she had only accomplished two. She was more tired than any of them, feeling the ropes sap her strength. The sensation was different in the water. They felt almost like fingers brushing up against her flesh, like a full-body massage. It wasn’t nearly as blissful as a real massage, but the stimulation was just as potent. The tightness around her breasts like they were being fondled, the friction of the rope between her legs, and the grip on her shoulders and stomach left her a blushing wreck, clinging to the edge of the pool with the other girls and gasping for air. The water was cool but she felt so damn hot. Her classmates all looked back at her and whispered amongst themselves, wondering what was wrong with her.
No surprise, the coach stormed over. “O’Connor, what’s the matter with you? Normally you would have been the first to make the fifth lap, but now you look like a half-dead dog out there.”
“Sorry, Ms. Edwards. I’m feeling sick today.”
“Well you can’t do much if you’re sick. Go hit the showers and wait for class to end.”
Nodding in gratitude, Helena slowly climbed out of the pool and made her way to the locker room. This was actually the best possibility for her. She had been forced to change into her swimsuit before class in the privacy of the bathroom, wearing it under her uniform so that no one would see the tattoos. Now, she could shower and get dressed without anyone seeing her. She stepped into the showers and turned the hot water on, panting as she removed her swimsuit. She looked at the tattoos, feeling them pressing down on her. They looked so strange on her, but also seemed to compliment her figure. Now that she thought about it, the look was kind of cool. Perverted, sure, but ignoring that, the bible forbidding tattoos, the pain of getting them, and the cost, this wouldn’t be half bad to get permanently. She’d just need a less sinful version.
She released a gasp of euphoria as she stepped under the shower, feeling the hot water wash away the chill and the chlorine of the pool and ease her muscles. She ran her hands across her naked body, rubbing the tattoos to try and ease the tension of her binds. Why did this feel so good? She leaned against the wall, letting the water pour down her unclothed frame while she massaged herself. Her eyes bolted open when she realized what she was doing, discovering that she had started squeezing her breasts and was sliding her fingers between her legs. She held her arms out to her sides and shook her head like a dog, trying to free herself of these sinful sensations.
About to turn off the shower, she stopped and nearly fell to her knees. Her breathing became haggard and she clutched herself. The bonds, they were… changing! The tattoos rearranged themselves on her body taking a new pattern. Originally, amongst the different knots and webs on her chest and stomach, she had had a rope going between her legs like a thong, tucked into her ass with a knot against her clitoris, as well as two choking bonds around her breasts, as if they each had collars of their own. Now, she had two spider webs on her breasts, the arranged binds converging on what felt like two rings, pressing down on her areolas with her nipples poking through, making them swell and stand erect. The rope between her legs had now become two, but they were wrapped around her thighs like a harness. They had settled right in the creases, between the sides of her pussy and her inner thighs, squeezing the plump lips and making them pucker as if expecting a kiss.