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From: SirRender <"i_am_sirrender [at] yahoo [dot] com"@giganews.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} What Some People Will Do - Chapter 67-68 (bond exhib) {Sir Render}
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Date: Mon, 03 Nov 2008 06:10:20 -0500
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Chapters 1-66 can be downloaded free at http://www.asstr-mirror.org or
my own site at http://sirrender.syntheticdimension.net.



*****

This is a work of fiction.  All characters are of no age because
they are not real people.  This story is intended to be read and
enjoyed by consenting adults only.  Do not read this story if it 
is illegal for you to do so.  The author will not be responsible 
for your actions.  Do not allow anyone under the age of consent 
to read this story.  Again the author will not be responsible 
for your actions.

Please do not treat this as a guide for real life; it is only a
work of fiction.  Do not read this story if descriptions of nudity,
sex and sexual situations offend you.  Do not repost this story in
any way which requires payment for access and please do not remove
the copyright notice when reposting this story.  Thank you.

*****



What Some People Will Do

(C)2000, 2008 by Sir Render (i_am_sirrender@yahoo.com as of
November 2008)



Part 25

Chapter 67

True to Thomas' word, Brenda got a day off between filming for
her website videos.  She got in from the neighbor's house around
7 o'clock.  Jim was preparing for work and grilled her about
where she'd been all night.  She just replied that she'd slept at
Mr. Forester's, which left her husband struck dumb.

"He was a perfect gentleman," she added, sipping her cup of
coffee.  "Unlike someone who slept through me ringing the
doorbell for five minutes."

"Well why were you out in the first place?  Did he do anything to
you?"

Brenda shook her head.  "I said he was a perfect gentleman.  He
slept on the sofa and gave me his bed.  And for your information
I was working last night.  You slept through the phone ringing,
too."

"Well," Jim said with a grin as he slid an arm around his wife's
slender waist, "you wore me out last night."

"Hmm, yet somehow I was still awake at half past twelve."

Jim stood back with a genuine look of pain.  "Ouch!"

"Oh I'm sorry Jim, I didn't mean it that way!  I meant... well
never mind what I meant.  I've just been really hot and horny
lately.  It's like I can't get enough.  No matter how many times
we fuck -- no matter how long we go -- I always want more."

"Were you... were you having sex last night?"

"No baby, only with you.  I was just doing some harmless
flashing."

"In the middle of the night?"  Jim's voice didn't hide his
skepticism.

"Yeah.  In the park, at night, with my hands cuffed behind my
back.  You'll love it when you see it on the TV."  She winked and
turned to pour the last bit of her coffee down the sink.

"Well, just don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jim said before
kissing her on the cheek and gathering his things.

Brenda called the studio and made them pick her up to go get her
car from the park.  She found she'd been ticketed for parking
overnight on the street, but Thomas was cool about it and said
that the station would take care of that.

On returning home, Brenda spent the rest of the day cleaning
house.  She took her "day off" seriously by not doing anything at
all which would arouse her sexually.  But the day which followed
more than made up for it.

Brenda was called in to the office the next day to meet an expert
in rope bondage.  He demonstrated several possible positions and
various types of knots on Brenda while the entire film crew
looked on and took notes.  When at last they were through
comparing scores, Brenda was told to meet them after lunch at one
of the safe houses they'd rented to be able to do their work away
from her home.  She would be given her wardrobe there.

Arriving on the scene later that day, Brenda found Raj and
Kimberly arguing about how high the garage door could be left
open.  Inside, she was escorted to a bedroom with blacked out
windows and told to change into the items on the chair.  What she
found was a studded shelf bra, black with white accents and
silver metal studs all over the support cups, a pair of panties
with virtually nothing on the sides except two very thing
criss-crossing strings and a deliberate split down the front of
the light purple material, frosted white pantyhose, the kind of
leggings she never wore normally, house slippers to walk in and a
white ball gag the same size as the red one she had at home.

Shrugging and shimmying out of her street clothes, Brenda quickly
dressed in the outfit before making her way through the house to
the kitchen.  Everyone was in the attached garage talking, so she
shuffled in there.

In the garage someone had constructed an elaborate pulley system
and harness.  Raj and Kimberly were still debating how far up to
leave the garage door -- Kimberly wanted it almost halfway up but
Raj was arguing that would be too obvious and that the danger was
in the fact that it was open at all.

Brenda was approached by Roger and the rope expert who quickly
trussed her up in several pounds of nylon rope, all the while
asking her if she was uncomfortable or if anything was pinching
or rubbing the wrong way.  It took a few tries to get everything
right, and their hands were all over her body while working, but
in time Brenda's more or less motionless body was hoisted into
the harness.  Her forearms were tied tight behind her back, as
were her calves, and then her wrists were tied to her ankles. 
She had no movement of her limbs whatsoever; no wiggle room.  The
ball gag was inserted behind her teeth and then tied also to the
length of rope between her wrists and ankles, thereby keeping her
head in a stationary position.  She could move it slightly to the
left or the right, but not down at all.

By the time she was lifted by pulleys and suspended roughly three
feet off the floor of the garage, Brenda was already feeling
stiff and sore.  She wasn't sure this was the kind of thing she
had signed up for, but with the soft ball in her mouth she could
not get anyone to listen to her.

The harness wrapped around her mid-section, keeping her steady
and secure, with two smaller pieces supporting her thighs and
keeping them spread as far apart as could be with her calves tied
so tight together.

Soon everyone left the garage, the door having been left open to
nearly the same point at which she was dangling over the floor,
and filming began.  With Roger in one corner and Ivan in another,
Brenda was filmed just hanging in the air, her heavy breasts
hanging free from the now pointless shelf bra.  As stiffness in
her limbs increased, Brenda tried her best to shake or wriggle to
loosen them up.  All she did was cause her harness to rock gently
and soon she found herself slowly spinning around to face the
garage door.

She was well aware of the occasional car passing outside, or
someone walking down the sidewalk talking on their cell phone. 
Any full grown person would probably not really see her under the
raised door unless they were across the street and looking
directly at her, but there she was dangling free with all the
lights on to illuminate for the video shoot, so it was surely
possible for her to be seen.

Brenda lost track of the time, but it felt like half an hour
before someone came up behind her, took a firm grip of her ass to
"stop her spinning round" and began the next stage of her
humiliation.  A long, slim vibrator was slipped under the
waistline of her frosted white pantyhose and nestled into the
gaping slit in the front of her purple panties.  Once it was
switched on and began to hum against her clitoris, Brenda began
to moan.  She really wasn't one for vibrators -- they'd just
never appealed to her and anyway she got all the sex she wanted
from Jim; and lately from anyone she chose.

But there could be no denying the effect the lightly humming vibe
had on her as she continued to hang from the rafters and slowly
spin.  Her moaning became louder and more intense as she felt her
slit growing moist.  Unable to stop herself, she was now drooling
at a constant rate around the ball gag and wondered which end of
her would make the biggest puddle when she climaxed.

But climax was not soon to come.  The vibrator was not powerful
enough just sitting there against her, and since it was only held
in by the waistband of her pantyhose it wasn't exactly positioned
well, so her arousal was a slow, steady agony building up in her
taut belly.

Brenda became oblivious to sounds outside the garage -- they were
just white noise as she focused on her sexual needs -- so when a
basketball came suddenly rolling into the garage from out front,
she was quite startled.

The ball, a very dirty, well used ball, bounced once, hit the
bottom of the garage door, losing its momentum, and began to roll
along the length of the door and into the garage.  She heard two
voices outside, both distinctly male and probably in the late
teens or early twenties, coming closer.

"Unh unh unh unh!" Brenda said, biting into her gag.  What she'd
meant to say was something more like, "Close the fucking door" or
"Please, please let that ball roll back out of the garage and
down to the street."

To her great relief, it did.  The floor of the garage and the
driveway were sloped enough that, with the ball's reduced
momentum after hitting the door, it began to roll back out.  She
watched with wide eyes, though, as two pair of hairy men's legs
in tennis shoes stopped in front of the raised door.

Brenda hung in dead silence in the garage.  No one made any sound
except the damnable humming of the vibrator against her pussy
lips and clit.  Was it loud enough to attract attention?  Would
they look under the garage door just to see what was inside even
if they couldn't hear it?  Was this going to be the single most
embarrassing moment of her life?

Her fear -- no, her dread -- caused a sudden increase in her
arousal.  Brenda fought back the urge to thrash in her bonds and
cry out in a long, low, guttural tone.  The young men began to
bounce the ball on the concrete driveway and then she heard them
begin to race off.  Only then did she let herself cum, and she
came as hard and as long as she ever had.  So much so, in fact,
that by the time the crew had got her down from the harness, she
had to peel off the soaking pantyhose from her dripping thighs
before going into the house to clean up.


Chapter 68

It was Friday morning and Brenda had been called to the studio. 
She sat in the boss' office waiting for him to arrive.  The
weather had cooled significantly during the week and so she was
bundled in a fuzzy sweater with blue jeans, socks and tennis
shoes.  When Arnold Griffith, the studio owner, entered, he
frowned a little at her frumpy attire.

"Well, this helps make my point," he said after greeting her. 
"Brenda, we've decided you can use a wardrobe makeover.  After
all, you're pulling in a nice salary now, representing the
station and starring in a hit show... you should really look the
part when you go out in public.  We also don't want your show to
be associated with... well with bad taste or low class."

Brenda looked at her clothes.  "What's wrong with what I'm
wearing?  It's clean, it's neat, there are not holes or rips."

"No, that's true, but it's just so common.  You look like every
woman, not like the star of a hit series.  When Hollywood
actresses go out, they dress up.  They set trends.  That's what
we want for you, Brenda.  We want you to be someone to look up
to; a trend-setter.  And so I've decided to give you a spending
account.  Nearly all your expenses will be paid by the studio for
as long as you work with us, starting with your wardrobe."

"I still don't see what's wrong with this," Brenda contended.

"There's nothing wrong with it.  It just isn't the image we're
going for.  We want to bring the level of the show up," Mr.
Griffith motioned with one hand rising above the other.  "We want
to elevate your personal appearance to that of a star and elevate
our viewership to people who appreciate style and look to you for
advice on what to wear.  If we play this right, there's ad
revenue in it for us.  The more value there is in the show, the
more value you are to the station.  We were, frankly,
flabbergasted with the high number of female viewers for your
show.  We need to appeal to them to keep them watching.  And
Brenda, we're not talking about just a little bump in your
clothing budget.  We're talking about practically anything under
the sun; designer dresses, designer shoes and handbags."

He took a credit card from his top desk drawer.  "This is for
you.  It has a $7,000 limit and I want you to spend as much of it
today as you feel comfortable doing.  I'll be sending you to the
big city mall to shop at the designer stores and I want you to go
wild!  Buy yourself a whole new wardrobe.  I want to see receipts
for evening wear, sleep wear, active wear, formal wear,
lingerie... shoes, hats, bags.  And then I want to start seeing
you wearing those new clothes when you come in to work and
whenever you go out in public.  If I bump into you at the grocery
store, I want to see you in your 'star' clothes.  But I just want
to be clear, this is for wardrobe only.  Anything else which gets
charged to this card will be billed directly to you."

Brenda took the card.  She had to admit that she'd long dreamed
of dressing in high fashion; of looking and being treated like a
movie star.  And if she didn't have to pay for it, who was she to
say no?

Arnold continued, "And after you've bought all your new clothes,
I want you to meet the film crew.  They've been working for a
couple of days on a big surprise for your next dare.  Kimberly
will be with you, since she's the only member of the crew who can
justify going into fitting rooms with you, and then she'll show
you where to go from there."

So in the early afternoon Brenda found herself at the big city
mall with credit card in hand and eyes full of wonderment at all
the things she never would have bought for herself in a million
years before she was given an expense account.

With Kimberly in tow as a fellow woman and fashion advisor,
Brenda bought herself a handbag by Prada, a variety of tops and
dresses by various Italian designers and non-Italian designers
trying to appear hot by using names which sound vaguely Italian.
When she came to the ritziest shoe store in the mall, she asked
to be shown the hottest items for the season.  At first the
saleswoman looked down her nose at Brenda, giving her a look with
one raised eyebrow, but Brenda flashed her expense account card
and explained how she was having a complete makeover for a TV
show.

The sales woman, a smartly dressed gal in her thirties with too
small a waist, no bust to be found and black rimmed eyeglasses
which Brenda was sure were only for show, sat Brenda down in a
posh leather chair, took her foot measurements and brought her a
pair of extraordinarily high heeled pumps.  Brenda guessed them
to be about five inches, which she knew would be tough on her,
and they were rather odd looking with purple and black markings
and what looked like white graffiti style lettering going up the
sides.  What really caught Brenda's eye were the bright nail
polish red soles.

"These are Piggalle by Christian Louboutin," the saleswoman said.
 "You can tell by the signature red leather sole."

Brenda clapped her hands together and exclaimed, "Oh, I love
Louis Vuitton!"  That was a designer name she recognized.  The
saleswoman gave her another eyebrow raised look over the top of
her fashionable black rimmed glasses.  Brenda glanced to Kimberly
standing behind the saleswoman.  Kim just shrugged.

Brenda continued, "But... why do they look like they've been
painted by a street gang?"

"The graffiti look is all the rage on the runways this year," the
woman replied.  "These are in high demand.  If you can afford
them, you'll be the talk of the town."

Without thinking, Brenda asked, "How much are they?"  Then she
remembered she had a spending account and the cost really didn't
matter.  One or two hundred dollars wouldn't even put a dent in
her allowance.

"Six hundred ninety-eight."

Brenda's jaw dropped, but again remembering her spending account
she quickly regained her composure.  If they were that expensive,
and the boss man had insisted she buy expensive clothes to look
like a star, then they must be in fashion.  "Do you have two
pair?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

"No, I'm sorry.  Only the one in this style.  Would you like to
try them on or look at something a little less expensive?"

"No no, I'll try them.  $700 is nothing."  She couldn't believe
she was saying that.  What the hell were women who actually
bought this stuff with their own money thinking?  Who had so much
money and so little self respect that they'd spend nearly seven
hundred dollars on a pair of shoes with maybe -- MAYBE -- thirty
dollars worth of material and workmanship?  But then that was the
point of fashion.  No one was going to care how skimpy or silly
looking her shoes were; it was the label they were going to fawn
over.

Brenda wobbled her first few steps but soon got the hang of
walking in the impossibly high heels.  The shoes were no less
comfortable than her own department store five inch heels she'd
worn just the other day, so as long as she didn't need to climb
any stairs, she feel confident she could manage.

Brenda walked out of the shoe store with a full bag.  There were
the purple pumps, black ankle boots with an even more ludicrous
five and a half inch heel and the same patent red leather sole
which had a concealed built-in platform, as well as a more
moderate pair of two inch heeled ankle boots which Brenda thought
she might actually wear frequently.  She also had spent nearly
half of her seven thousand dollar limit by that point.

The pair hit another high-end store for tops and dresses.  Brenda
and Kim stepped into their luxuriously appointed fitting room
where Brenda stripped down to her undies while Kimberly
discretely filmed with a hand-held video camera.  By the time
they left, Brenda had spent another $700.

"You know, I should probably leave some for next season," she
suggested.

"Then I guess it's time to move on to the test," Kimberly
replied.  "Follow me."

They headed through the mall to a place where a shop had
obviously gone out of business.  Half of the store front was
blocked by a portable partition and the store name was still
somewhat visible over the door where the lettering had been
removed, leaving behind paint which was less dirty or worn than
the paint around it.  The one exposed expanse of window, the part
not behind the partition, was curtained on the inside and the
door had black plastic put up inside to block any view of the
inside of the shop.  Kimberly knocked five times and pushed the
door open.

"Are you sure we should be here?" Brenda questioned.  But her
curiosity forced her to follow Kimberly inside.

Brenda was greeted by Thomas Hardcastle, her show's producer, who
explained that Channel 69 had rented out this vacant shop for a
short time in order to challenge Brenda with one of her most
difficult dares yet.

"You will stand in the window there and model all these new
clothes you just bought.  But there's a catch."  Thomas grinned
from ear to ear.  "You have to stand perfectly still, in whatever
pose we give you, as if you're a mannequin.  And either I or
Kimberly or some of the crew will come in every few minutes and
change your clothes."

"And of course I wind up naked and have to just stand there
showing it all," Brenda finished for him.

"Well naturally," he replied, still grinning.  "We've got some
remote cameras across the way to keep an eye on you and see who
all's stopping to check you out.  We also have a couple inside
the window case."

"How long do I have to stand still?"

"We're aiming for a full half hour.  Now, we will come in every
few minutes to check on you.  If you need to sit or just shift
your weight, let us know -- discretely so people don't see that
you're not really a dummy -- and we'll give you a new pose."

"What's in it for me if I win?"

Thomas clapped his hands together.  "Ah, now that's the fun part.
 This will run in three stages.  The first is fully clothed, just
to be sure you can pull off looking like a dummy... a mannequin,
sorry.  I didn't mean to imply you look stupid or anything.  If
you don't pass that stage, we can't move on.  Anyone watching
outside has to believe you're a mannequin... an incredibly
realistic looking mannequin, but a mannequin all the same.  The
next stage is where more and more clothes come off.  Pass that
without anyone realizing you're a real person and you win $250. 
The final stage is where it gets really tough."  Thomas grinned
again his eyes went far away.

Kimberly finished for him.  "The third stage makes you totally
naked except for a special pair of panties and a bra which have
little vibrators attached on the inside.  You have to stand still
while the vibes do their magic on you."

"And if you pass that," Thomas said, coming back around, "you get
another $500 bonus."

"I can do this.  I can do anything!" Brenda exclaimed.  "When do
we start?"

Within a few minutes Brenda was fully undressed in the middle of
the store with the whole camera crew watching her.  She then
began to dress in her new rich girl clothes, starting with a pair
of frilly, lacy and very see through black panties.  She then sat
down and slipped her feet into the Piggalle pumps with the five
inch heels.  Intentionally leaving her upper body exposed for the
merriment of the guys on the crew, Brenda straightened her right
leg out before her and slipped an expensive designer business
skirt over her foot and up her long, shapely leg.  Once over her
knee, she set her right foot back on the floor and pushed her
left through the skirt.  Then standing, a little wobbly at first,
she pulled the skirt up and adjusted it side to side until it fit
just right.

At last she donned a navy blue strapless bra for which she had
had to be custom sized and fit at one of the other stores -- and
which Kimberly had been certain to capture on camera -- before
slipping into a cute top which was designed to look like it swept
down from over the shoulders, crossed over her abdomen and tied
at the sides, but was in fact a slip-on piece which was
permanently attached.

However the top left a little too much of her chest exposed for
her to wear it with the bra.  One of them had to go, and she
decided she really liked the top.  So off came the top, off came
the bra, and the top went back on.

In order to make the stripping game more exciting, and add more
layers, Thomas insisted that she also wear a fashionable hat, her
Prada handbag and a fur coat.  They added a silk scarf around her
neck for added flair.

Then Brenda was positioned in the window with one arm bent before
her, fingers out straight, and the other arm raised and pointing
somewhere to the side, with her handbag hanging from her elbow. 
The curtains were parted and Brenda's mall show began.

Brenda did her very best to not move.  They left her in the fully
dressed pose for five minutes, though to Brenda it seemed that
lasted half an hour.  The first items to be removed were her
scarf and purse, leaving her still fully clothed.  Ivan, acting
as window dresser, kept his eyes fixed to hers to note any sign
of despair or need to be posed differently.

Another five minutes passed before Ivan returned to take Brenda's
hat and coat, and to give her a pair of very dark sunglasses. 
Brenda talked through slightly parted but still lips, asking to
be moved.  Ivan turned her slightly, switched her arms so she was
now pointing the opposite way and gave her a feel of movement by
sliding one leg a bit forward and the other back.

All the while Brenda concentrated hard on not blinking if anyone
was looking and not scratching the itch which cropped up in
random areas of her body due to nerves in knowing she wasn't
supposed to move to scratch herself.  Several passers-by gave her
second looks or stopped to marvel at her.  She wanted to laugh
but knew she could not.  That made it all the more humorous but
she in all the muscles of her body to keep from busting out with
a good belly laugh.

The next item to go was Brenda's skirt, leaving her wearing just
the sunglasses, cleavage-exposing top, black frilly panties and
purple graffitied pumps.

When Thomas came in after another five minutes, Brenda pleaded,
still through intentionally stiff lips, for a break.  Thomas
acknowledged that without taking her back into the seclusion of
the shop, it was going to be difficult to remove her panties with
her not moving, so he called Ivan to help move her motionless
body out of the window display and out of sight.

Brenda took a few minutes to rub her aching arm and leg muscles,
to blink and swallow many times to make up for the times she'd
been unable to do so, and to do a quick change of clothes.  As
instructed, she removed her frilly black panties and also her
top.  She put on the strapless navy blue bra.  She was also given
a wrap-around cream colored skirt with a hem cut at such an angle
that it left a wide gap up one side which pretty much exposed her
whole left leg.

After being positioned back in the window by Thomas and Ivan,
Brenda found they had apparently unclasped the hook and eye at
her left hip as the skirt fell completely open in front, exposing
her neatly trimmed brown bush, and then fell to the floor around
her feet.

Brenda gasped and clamped her eyes shut to avoid the humiliation
she was feeling.  She was thankful that the window case was more
or less soundproof so she could not hear what anyone out front
was saying.  When she found the nerve to force one eye open just
enough to get a glimpse of the scene before her, Brenda saw two
teen boys passing by, pointing and gawking with wide eyes at her
exposed pussy.  She quickly shut her eye again, squeezing it
tight and wishing she could disappear into a black hole.

Roger came in next to change her clothes and/or pose.  "Oh, the
skirts already off.  Never mind then."  He scooped the useless
heap of cream colored fabric off the floor and took it back int
the shop, leaving Brenda standing, arms akimbo, wearing nothing
but her navy blue bra and purple graffitied pumps with the red
leather soles.  He returned a moment later, however, and
unclasped the bra from behind her back -- well, at least she
assumed it was him.  She couldn't turn her head to look.  But he
placed one hand cupping her left breast while he undid the clasp,
and let the skimpy material come away in his palm, leaving her
magnificent mammaries fully exposed to the world... well, to the
shoppers at that end of the mall.

But he didn't leave her without anything to wear on top.  He
added to her embarrassment by giving her the skimpiest of tops
possible -- he draped a pearl necklace over her shoulders,
jiggling it slightly until the string lay down the inner swell of
her breasts, dangling in a straight line down her cleavage. 
Brenda imagined she looked somewhat like she had that night at
the fitness gym when she'd let all the guys on the TV crew
splatter her face and chest with cum and it had run in rivulets
down between her tits.  Now she just looked like a more high
class version of that cum slut she'd been.  This time the pearl
necklace was worth money and she was wearing $700 shoes.

He repositioned Brenda so she stood like a superhero; elbows out
to her sides, hands clenched in fists at her hips, legs straight
but spread about half a foot apart at the knees.  This left all
her charms fully exposed and Brenda could not bring herself to
open her eyes to see who was watching.  It was the only way she
was able to get through the ordeal.

At long last Brenda was moved back inside, into the safety and
seclusion of the shop with its doors and windows covered.  She
was given a bathroom break, a drink of water and five fifty
dollar bills for her excellent work.

Thomas asked the big question.  "So now Brenda, the moment of
truth.  Do you want to go for the extra $500 wearing the special
naughty undies?"

"I don't think so," Brenda said with a wave of her hand and shake
of her head.  "I'm embarrassed enough as it is."

"I'm sorry to hear that.  It wasn't our intent to embarrass you.
By this time, after more than three months doing the show, we all
thought you'd be excited by it."

Kimberly put an arm around Brenda's shoulder.  "There was always
the chance this one was a bit much.  That's why you were offered
the prize money instead of just being expected to do it under
contract.  It's okay if you don't want to go on."

"Can I just ask, though," Thomas put in, "what WOULD convince you
to go this last step?  A thousand dollars?  A trip to Hawaii?"

"We already went to Hawaii," Brenda stated.

"Oh that's right.  How about Disney World?  Or Acapulco?"

Brenda looked up.  "Acapulco... Mexico?"

"That's right.  A cruise to lovely Acapulco, Mexico.  I'm sure we
could arrange for it.  That would be in place of the $500, of
course."

Brenda thought it over.  "I've never really thought of taking a
Mexican cruise.  No, no I just can't.  I've had enough for one
day.  I'm sorry."

End of part 25



NOTE:  If you've missed the story so far, you can download it
free of charge at my website at
http://sirrender.syntheticdimension.net/.

As of November 2008 I am still adding new chapters to "What Some People
Will Do" and looking for new ideas and directions for the story.  I
have put a feedback form on my website if you would like to make
suggestions.

Thank you!  Sir Render 

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