Halloween party goes wrong
It is always the same. I like to use my Wonder Woman outfit for Halloween office party, and after a couple of hours (...and a lot of drinks) my friends dominate me and left me bound and gagged in the storage room of the office and I must spend hours before some of my friend rescue me from my bonds.
I am a woman in my mid-forties, with the physique of a goddess and the grace of a gazelle, sailed through the office hallways with the poise of a seasoned superheroine. I had spent hours sculpting my costume to perfection, the shiny tan pantyhose clinging to my toned legs, the blue leotard hugging my curves in all the right places, and the red boots adding a fiery touch to my stride. My raven hair was swept back into a ponytail, revealing my sparkling tiara, a symbol of power and the envy of every woman at the office. I felt like I owned the room, my confidence soaring with every step I took towards the elevator.
The party was in full swing when I arrived, the air thick with the scent of cheap liquor and the pulse of bass-heavy music. The dim lights danced with the shadows cast by the various costumed attendees, creating an eerie yet oddly comforting atmosphere. I mingled with my colleagues, exchanging pleasantries and sipping on a surprisingly potent witch's brew punch. As the night progressed, the laughter grew louder, the drinks flowed more freely, and the flirtatious glances grew more daring.
It was during a particularly energetic round of "Thriller" that things took an unexpected turn. A group of my male coworkers, dressed as a ragtag band of supervillains, approached me with mischief twinkling in their eyes. They playfully challenged my dominance, suggesting that even a powerful Amazonian could be brought to her knees. With a tipsy giggle, I accepted their challenge, not realizing the extent to which they would take it. Before I knew it, I was being playfully wrestled into a chair, the room spinning with the weight of too much alcohol and the sudden onset of a heady thrill.
They began to tie me up with the same ropes they had used to create their makeshift supervillain lair in the corner of the party room. My initial protests were met with laughter, assuming it was all in good fun. However, as the bonds grew tighter and my ability to move diminished, the realization of my predicament began to sink in.
With a final knot, I was left bound and gagged, the big red ball gag biting into my cheek and muffling my voice. The room spun as they wheeled me away, my eyes watering from the fabric's harshness. The cold metal of the storage room's floor sent shivers down my spine as they abandoned me, the echoes of their laughter fading into the distance. I tested my bonds, adrenaline spiking as the reality of my situation set in. The knots were tight, my superhuman strength useless against them, and the room grew quieter with each passing second, the only company my own racing thoughts and the throb of the party's bass line through the walls.
Worry began to set in as the clock on the wall ticked away, each minute feeling like an eternity. I knew that I was in trouble, and that my rescue would not be swift. I struggled against the ropes, my breaths coming in shallow gasps as I tried to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped space. I tried to ask for help through my gag, but the only sound that escaped was a muffled grunt.
As the night grew later, the party's energy began to wane. The music grew softer, the lights brighter, and the sounds of revelry slowly disappeared. The office was now a maze of discarded decorations and half-empty punch bowls, with only the occasional footstep echoing through the hallways. I closed my eyes, willing my head to clear, and listened intently for any signs of life.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and in stumbled Mark, the office's resident tech geek and an unexpected hero in a poorly constructed R2-D2 costume. His bleary eyes widened when they fell upon me, and for a moment, I thought I had been saved. But his expression quickly turned to one of drunken amusement, and he lurched closer, his intentions anything but noble. He began to fumble with the ropes, his clumsy fingers loosening the knots as he slurred his apologies for his friends' prank.
Mark was awkwardly trying to untie me but his clumsy touch turned more explorative. He had always been shy and respectful in the office, but the alcohol had loosened his inhibitions, and his hands roamed over my bound body with a newfound boldness. Despite my fear, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of arousal as he brushed against my breasts, his eyes glazed over with desire. The situation was spiraling out of control, and I knew I had to act fast if I wanted to maintain my dignity.
Mark had loosened the knots long enough for me to finish loosening myself, and as he leaned in closer, his hot breath smelling faintly of candy corn, I took advantage of the moment. With a swift headbutt, I caught him off-guard, sending him reeling backward into a shelf of old office supplies. The gag remained in my mouth, but the ropes fell away from my wrists and ankles. I took a deep, satisfying breath and yanked the gag free, the taste of rubber lingering on my tongue.
"What the hell, Mark?" I snapped, trying to ignore the way my heart was racing from a mix of fear and excitement. He looked at me with a drunken pout, rubbing his nose.
"I was just...I didn't mean to...I thought you liked it," he mumbled, his words slurring together.
"Get out," I ordered, my voice firm but my eyes betraying a hint of the thrill coursing through me. He stumbled out of the room, muttering to himself, leaving me alone once more with my racing thoughts.
I stood up, my legs wobbly from being bound for hours. The coldness of the floor had left my skin pebbled with goosebumps, and the costume that had once made me feel invincible now felt like a prison. I took a moment to compose myself, listening to the muffled sounds of the party slowly dying down. The adrenaline still pumping through my veins, I decided to take matters into my own hands and find a way out of the storage room.
