Find Evellyn!

Stuck in these dastardly, impenetrable bonds, you resign yourself to the only reasonable solution: Finding Evellyn. It’s her mansion that’s been infiltrated, her servant that’s been tied up and humiliated, and you’re - sort of - her ally! Surely she’ll help, if for no other reason than self-interest. Of course, getting to her isn’t going to be easy, especially since the last time you saw Evellyn, you’d ditched her naked in the woods, far outside the city. A pang of regret passes through you, but you quickly push it aside. This is no time for self-pity. Plus at the time it was very funny, which absolves you of any mistakes.

Awkwardly, you hop your way through the mansion. Despite being alone, you feel exposed in a way that even time-stopping can’t fix. The bindings cutting into your wrists and ankles and the swaying and flopping of your cock with each bouncing hop only adding to the frustration. This must be what it’s like when your victims’ tits bounce about when blessed by the beautification of your bondage.

Finally, you make your way out of the mansion, hopping through the garden making it onto the streets. Each bound feels more ridiculous than the last as you pass through the frozen city. You can’t help but glance at the motionless figures of townsfolk - people who would be gawking and whispering if only they could move. But for now, you’re spared their stares. Even so, the humiliation is ever-present, an uncomfortable twinge that grows with each passing moment, though infused with the eroticism of possibility… Your member swells from the thrill. You hop in front one or two of them, looking at their vacant expressions as they gaze right through you, even as you stand before them entirely exposed, by now proudly erect.

It takes hours, hours of hopping through streets and alleys, then fields, and finally the forest. Your legs ache from the constant effort, your wrists sore from the tightly bound ropes, the ballgag wedged between your teeth is starting to feel like it’s part of your mouth, and you need to take a couple breathers lying down at the side of the road. But eventually, you reach the spot where you left Evellyn, not all that far yet from the pool you’d launched her into. And there, walking naked through the underbrush with a mixture of frustration and irritated determination, is Evellyn. Her hair is a wild mess, dirt and leaves stuck to her skin, which is glistening wet in the dappled light, but she still holds herself with a regal defiance.