Itsuki × Miku Gagged and bound (N)

The Quintessential Quintuplets: Bound by the Beach – Chapter 2

The sapphire sea stretched endless, salt wind teasing sun-kissed skin, barbecue smoke curling into the dusk. The Nakano family had whisked all five daughters to this lavish seaside resort, a glittering reward for grades that had rocketed skyward under Futaro’s relentless tutoring. Their father’s invitation had caught even Futaro off-guard—he’d accepted without a second thought.

One velvet night, Miku padded barefoot across the cool tiles to the balcony, satin navy pajamas whispering against her thighs. Her pulse thundered. She wanted to tell Futaro… something. Anything. But Ichika’s shadow lingered just inside the adjacent room, lips curved in a fox’s smile.

At dawn, Ichika spilled the tale over half-eaten toast to Yotsuba and Nino—Itsuki still snoring in dreamland.

“Miku thinks she can steal him?” Nino hissed.

“Eliminate her,” Ichika murmured, eyes glittering.

“Tie her up in the old storage shed.”

The plan locked into place like a magazine sliding home.

The evening before departure, Itsuki—star-printed tee, denim shorts—bounced up to Futaro. “Take me to the night market for seafood snacks?” She flashed a grin. He nodded. Nino saw.

“Add Itsuki to the list,” she reported, voice flat.

First night at the resort.

After sunset dinner, the sisters splashed in the dying light—Aitsuki and Miku in brand-new bikinis, shrieking as waves kissed their knees. Futaro watched from the sand, dry smile tugging his lips.

The trio watched from farther out.

“Tonight,” Ichika breathed. “Lure them while they’re still in swimsuits. Straight to the shed.”

“Tell them there’s secret pool toys,” Yotsuba added.

“Do it,” Nino said, teeth flashing.

Dusk – Phase One.

The sun bled orange into violet. Itsuki, still in her bikini, followed Yotsuba’s scribbled note: Hidden snacks in the old storage hall—come in your suit, we’ll swim after!

She pushed open the creaking wooden door.

“No one—?”

Yotsuba and Nino exploded from the dark. Nylon rope snapped around wrists and ankles before Itsuki could scream. She hit the cold plank floor, grains of sand clinging to damp skin. Her bikini top shifted; pale stomach quivered.

Nino crammed a folded beach towel between her teeth. Silver duct tape sealed it with a vicious rrrip.

“Mmmph…!”

They dragged her, heels scraping, into the hidden room. Lock clicked. Darkness swallowed the girl in scraps of fabric.

Next twilight – Phase Two.

Lobby lights glowed amber. Everyone gathered after dinner—except Itsuki.

“Where’s Itsuki?” Futaro frowned.

“Walking the beach,” Nino lied smoothly.

Miku, still in yesterday’s bikini, volunteered to search.

Teams split: Nino with Miku; Ichika and Yotsuba trailing like ghosts.

Near a derelict beach bungalow, a muffled “Mmmph…” leaked through warped boards. Miku sprinted, shoved the door—

Itsuki slumped against the wall, bikini askew from struggling, ropes biting red into wrists and ankles, tape gleaming over stuffed cheeks, eyes swollen with tears.

Miku dropped beside her. “Hold on, I’ll—”

Rope cinched her own wrists from behind. Nino and Yotsuba loomed. A second towel forced past Miku’s lips; tape slapped tight. “Mmmph!”

They shoved her down beside Itsuki, looping fresh cord around both waists so the sisters sat hip-to-hip, chests heaving against each other’s.

That night – and every night after.

“Miku and Itsuki went home early,” Ichika announced, voice silk.

Futaro’s brow creased. “Without saying goodbye?”

“Urgent business,” Nino shrugged. “Still four of us left for you, Futaro.”

The week drifted on—azure waves, carefree laughter. But in the locked room, two bikini-clad captives sat bound, gagged, “Mmmph…” lost to the surf.

Each evening after dinner, the trio took turns slipping inside with a warm tray.

Day 1: Ichika peeled the tape slowly—rrrip—fed Itsuki tiny spoonfuls of seafood fried rice, then pressed fresh tape tighter.

Day 2: Yotsuba offered strawberries one by one to Miku, tears streaking both their faces. Tape resealed.

Day 3: Nino spooned duck rice into Itsuki’s mouth. “Don’t squirm.” A gentle stroke through damp hair, then new tape—snap.

Every time, the gag came off for mere minutes, slammed back instantly. “Mmmph…” echoed faintly into the void.

The three sisters exited smiling, leaving two girls in rumpled bikinis—breasts rising and falling in panicked rhythm, bellies full but hearts hollow.

The triplet scheme glided on, silent as the tide.

All content here is intended for roleplay purposes only

"All characters are 18 years old or older."