Gym Crush

They come back from the gym still hot and talking shit. Rosie brings up her crush. Blake’s face darkens fast—she’s been eye-fucking that same guy. Voices rise, words get ugly, and Rosie snaps. She lunges, snatches Blake by the wrist, and hauls her across the floor to the big wooden X bolted to the wall. Blake curses and thrashes, trying to yank free, but Rosie works quick: ropes bite into wrists and ankles, stretching Blake tight. Every jerk only tightens the knots. Rosie grabs a thick leather harness, buckles it over Blake’s head, forces the heavy ball between her teeth, and cinches it shut. Spit already glistens at the corner of Blake’s mouth. Rosie steps back, breathing hard, eyes on the helpless body spread before her. Blake’s muffled shouts vibrate around the gag, muscles flexing uselessly against the wood, the harness creaking with every frustrated twist. The room smells like sweat and tension. Rosie just watches, jaw set, letting Blake wear herself out.