"I wish I wasn't so stressed," she said. She had already said it multiple times that night. I could understand why; finals were coming right up. Tomorrow was her French exam, and I was helping her cram as her part-time "tutor". It's something I did completely for free, save for some free beer she always seemed to have on hand; I was always a sucker for pretty women.

Jillian, the girl I was tutoring, is a fourth-year student in her last semester of university (a year higher than I). She was of both Irish and Chinese heritage; she had an Asian face and body-type as she was quite skinny. Her breasts were the kind that some people would describe as "smaller but more natural"-looking. They weren't tiny, but they weren't anywhere near huge. When taking her tiny frame into consideration however, it really came into proportion. She had a nice body. Her Irish blood was evident in her red hair, which ran straight down just past her shoulders. Her skin was also very fair, although I don't know if that's either from her Irish genetics or the odd Chinese compulsion to keep skin as white as possible. Personally I think it's (and hope for) the formal, I could always be wrong.

She had a face to kill for, I can recall plenty of times when I've restrained myself as much as possible from thinking about kissing those pink, soft-looking lips or reaching out to stroke her pale cheek, or grope for her hand. I held myself back with everything I knew was sane and true. Why was it so hard to hold back on such... odd... temptations?

Odd? Creepy? I can't be the judge. I'd like to think it's nothing big as long as I don't act on them. I'd like to think that just about anybody out there is capable of thoughts, whether violent, sexual, or simply vulgar. I hope I'm not just some sick person brewing with all kinds of crazy desires. I wanted to kiss those lips. I pictured myself again and again performing the action, over and over. It felt like an obsession. But I wasn't going to just do it out of the blue like that. I wasn't going to try. I wasn't even going to think about really doing it. I'd just go on acting like the nice guy I'd like to think I really am.

Those lips were certainly enough to keep me rambling there for quite a while. Perhaps a little plot progression is in order.

"I just feel so stressed," she reiterated.

"Jillian, listen; you're going to do great tomorrow. You know these dumb beginner conjugations. Dr. and Ms. Vandertramp won't know what hit 'em."

"Hah. How did you learn French again?"

"My mom's half French and lived in France nearly her whole life before moving here. I used to only speak French actually, but then my Irish dad taught my English."

"So that's why you sound kind of Irish..." she said.

"Yep."

"So that's actually something we have in common right there. Irish blood."
I laughed a little out of amusement. "Ha yeah. I guess so."

"So I guess we're taking a break now?" I asked as I got up to get some beer from her fridge, our third cans each for this session.

"I suppose we are."

"....So, Sam. If you don't mind me saying, you're quite a nice guy. I'm really happy that I met you... especially because you insisted to do it for free. ...If you don't mind me saying," she repeated, "...you like me, don't you?"

"Hoo boy. Those beers sure are getting to you."

She laughed. "Yeah. You're right. I don't know what I'm talking about." She then leaned and rested her head against my shoulder. "So why haven't you asked me out?"

"Seriously? You mean aside from the fact that I'm younger than you? And you're ridiculously hot? And me asking you out would result in God himself descending from the Heavens to smite me just for thinking I ever had a chance? Don't you have a boyfriend?"

She laughed. "I'm not the kind of girl who can't survive being single. It's not like I need a boyfriend as soon as I lose my last one. I don't like to be tied down that way."

"What way do you like to be tied dow-" my eyes popped wide open and my mouth shut right up. My mind was in the gutter on that one before I even realized it. She couldn't have caught on to that. No way. That's what I thought until I saw her giving that "look"... the kind where she arches an eyebrow and smirks ever so slightly, as if she just heard something quite interesting. She giggled a little bit and spoke in a lowered voice. "Actually, I'm usually the one who does the tying, honey."

"Haha. You're funny. That's grea-wait, what?" Wow. So she had a way with words as well.

She sighed. "I'm pretty stressed out. It's nice having you here... I thought you could help me ease up on some of this stress."

"...Now you are dangerous."

"...What?"

"Err...nothing." I tried to regain what very little cool I had left. "You know, tying someone down might help to ease that stress." God, why do I talk?

"Oh might it?" she asked with her mouth agape.

"Oh..." ...That's all I had.

"Ha..." ...This was getting awkward.

"Hey." She said after a few seconds, clapping her hands together to unfreeze time. "How about we play a game, ok? It's simple, and you won't really have to do anything anyway."

"How does it work?"

"Hold on," she said as she got up to her drawers. She sifted through her clothes until she found a plastic bag. She closed the drawer and walked over to her shelves. From the top shelf she pulled out a really dusty old game of Monopoly that must've not been played in years. She opened up the box. "Are we playing Monopoly?" I ask. "I get to be the hat... or the dude on the horse."

"Stop being a dork." she said as she took a dice from the game. She closed the box and put it back, but kept the dice and set it on the night table with the mystery bag, which she sat next to on the bed. She opened the bag, keeping its contents out of my sight before pulling out a piece of paper. "Sit over here," she said while patting the space of her bed right next to her. I complied. She was looking through her plastic bag while I started stealing a peek at the piece of paper:

ROLL 1: 1 - HANDS IN FRONT 2 - HANDS BE-

That's all I read before she noticed me and snatched up the piece of paper.

"What's that?" I asked.

"That's not for your eyes. Those are the rules I have to follow for the game."

"How does this work again?"

'I roll the dice..." she picked up the dice from the table and dropped it. It landed on 2. That meant something to do with someone's hands going behind something. "Now I have to do what the paper says."

"Something about 'hands behind'? What are you doing with your hands?"
She laughed. "Cross your wrists behind your back. That's what it means."

"So what exactly are you doing?"

"Shush."

I felt her soft thin hands take hold of mine, bringing them to my back. She then used one small hand to hold both of mine while the other reached for the plastic bag. Then she let go, and something else took hold of me; a soft material like a scarf or bandana was being tighly pulled around my wrists, tying them together. The cloth was tight around my crossed wrists now, and I couldn't get my arms free.

"Hey, are you seriously tyin-hmmph!" the palm of her hand pressed up against my lips before I ever finished speaking. She had a firm grip on me, and nothing but muffled whimpers came out when I tried to say anything. She pulled me back until I could feel my back on her breasts, her hand never straying from it's place over my mouth.

"I told you to shush..." she whispered as she picked up the dice with her free hand. "Now to see how I'm going to keep you quiet." She dropped the dice on the table again. The number was four. "That's my favorite kind of gag," she said as she reached into the bag with her free hand. She pulled out a red rubber ball witih a strap. She finally took her hand away from my mouth and stuck the ballgag in it's place. She fastened the strap until it was so tight that I could barely push it at all with my tongue. I couldn't say anything at all. She had me helpless.

"Time for the last roll..." she said, still using one hand to half-cover my already ballgagged mouth. She lazily picked up and dropped the dice again. "Four."

She pulled out a red bandana from the bag and stretched it out before me with both hands. Then she tied it over my eyes so that I could see no more. I could only feel her reach down towards my pants, working the belt free from it's buckle, opening the button, unzipping my fly... she made my squirm out of my pants, leaving me still in my underwear. I felt helpless to it, especially because as I lost my jeans, I knew she'd discover what I did not want her to see. But there it was; sticking out loud and proud like a flagless flagpole. There was no hiding it. Being tied up and handled by her had caused me to feel more stimulated than I ever have before. I had never been this excited before.

"Damn, you definitely like being my little captive boy," she said as she gave it a playful little tug with one hand, her other hand clamping over my gagged mouth tighter and tighter with every pull she made. Perhaps I had been making noise, but I was too absorbed into what was actually happening for me to notice. Her soft hand kept working, stroking and rubbing in all the right ways. It didn't take very long before I finally got off. As I came, she pulled the gag from my mouth and gave me an incredibly deep kiss which lasted well beyond the last of my orgasm.

"Holy shit... you're a bit of a freak." I said.

She laughed. "That's a good thing, I'm guessing."

"Err. Yeah. For sure. But..."

"...But what?"

"Get me out of this. I want to tie you up now. Let me play the other side of your game."