Forfeit: Some mild bondage

ROGUE: I've got an idea I've been dying to try out, if you'll humor me.

BARD, blustering: Oh? I'm all tits- I mean ears.

The Rogue didn't reply, except for a glint of mischief in her eyes. She slid off her chair with slow, measured grace, carefully clutching her character sheet across her groin and an arm over her chest to preserve at least a hint of modesty. The Sorcerer let fly a teasing whistle though as she turned her ass towards them, and her hand quickly shot to cover her derrière with a flush of embarrassment. Nevertheless, she crossed over to the coffee table on the other side of the room, fishing to check for something in her pack. There was a rustle of fabric and metal. “Uh… what are you doing?” the Bard asked, suspicious.

The Rogue didn’t answer. Instead, she held her backpack to her chest and circled back around the table, positioning herself behind the Bard’s chair. She crouched low, rummaging in her bag again while keeping the back of the chair between herself and the rest of the table as a makeshift shield - though the Sorcerer and DM managed to get ample glances of the slopes of her bare shoulders and the tanned swell of her thighs anyway. When she straightened, there was a gleam of metal in her hands. Before the Bard could turn around fully, the Rogue moved. In a swift, authoritative motion, she caught the Bard’s wrists and pressed them behind the wooden frame, snapping a pair of fluffy handcuffs shut with a satisfying click. The Bard arched back slightly, her breasts swaying into open view from beneath the table rim.

“Oh - kinky,” the Bard began, a laugh bubbling out of her, "so you've been thinking about this for a long ti-" She was cut short as the Rogue lifted a ball gag and fastened the black leather straps firmly behind her head. The Bard’s eyes went wide with surprised indignation, and her words dissolved into a muffled string of half-protests, half-giggling moans. The Rogue leaned over her shoulder, breathing by her ear as she whispered something inaudible - something that made the Bard's cheeks blush a crimson hue. She pressed her body up against the wooden back of the chair and slid her hands down the Bard's arms, cupping and kneading her soft, exposed tits in a slow, deliberate rhythm, eliciting **** squirms and ghosting moans from behind the snug ball gag. The Rogue continued the teasing motions for about half a minute more, before her gaze drifted up into the eyes of the two keen spectators. With an embarrassed > cough < she withdrew, momentarily seeming more flushed than the captive Bard. She rested her hands on the back of the chair to cover her own front from view, composed herself, and turned to the DM with a smug expression.

ROGUE: Maybe it's just me, but I'm already enjoying this blessed silence. How long do you figure we'll keep her like this - fifteen minutes sound fair?

DM, a grin tugging at his lips: Fifteen minutes. Fair’s fair.