There's no way anyone is getting you out of there without me.

The towel collector's words circled over and over in Hope's mind as she shifted within the confined space of the locker. How long she'd been in here now, it was impossible to say, but her knees already ached from the hard metal floor, and her shoulders already ached from the tight knots around her elbows, and her jaw already ached from the sour-tasting cloth stuffed inside her mouth. To be perfectly honest, she also felt quite suffocated by the draw-string bag tied over her head. It smelled of sweat and stale breath and each time she sucked in air through her nose she felt as though she didn't quite get enough. She was always left wanting a tiny bit more.

Through all that had happened, it was only when the lock on the door had clicked shut and she'd heard the man leave that the situation had begun to sink in. She'd been so abashed about being in the wrong changing room, then so terrified about having her future ruined over a simple mistake, then so eager to fix it, that she hadn't quite processed all that was going on. Now, feeling the cold metal of the locker pressing against her naked skin from all sides, she was becoming increasingly mortified as she recalled all that had brought her here... How quickly she'd found herself naked in front of him. How readily she'd offered the idea of the blindfold. How wantonly she'd reacted to his every innocent touch. She was thankful for all the help the man had given her, but she felt that she had humiliated herself. She was still wet, after all, from where his hand had accidentally brushed her pussy lips. That was her fault too, just like it was her fault for being in the wrong changing room. If she hadn't made him promise not to look, he never would have accidentally touched her there, and she wouldn't be stuck now thinking about it, turning the moment over and over again in her mind.

Achingly, Hope shifted on her tender knees, but no position felt better than the last. She wished she could kneel down, or could sit, or could stand and stretch, but the unforgiving metal all around her forbade it. There was nothing she could do but to moan through her gagged mouth, but even that was restricted to little more than a grunt. She did not know if anyone would be able to hear her outside of this confined space, even if she wanted to be heard.

He'll be back soon, Hope told herself, trying in vain to stretch her bound arms in a way which would relieve the ache. At this point, she had nothing left to cling to.

Time stretched on endlessly within the confines of the locker. Eventually, Hope perked up as she heard a noise: the door of the changing room opening. She let out a groan of relief until the sound of many voices reached her ears.

It was the men's swim team, finishing up practice like the towel collector had said.

How could that be possible? The man had said that they were almost done. He'd rushed her into the locker under the impression that they would be showing up at any moment. Had it really been so short a time? If so, how long did she have left in here before the towel collector returned? How long could she possible stand this for?

The voices grew louder and rowdier until Hope could make them out clearly. Locker doors slammed open and shut, deep male voices echoed through the space, bare feet slapped across the floor. Further on, she could hear the splashing of water from the shower area and the rustle of clothing. She couldn't help but imagine what was happening out there... those sleek, muscular bodies soaping beneath the steaming shower, those rough-voiced men naked where she'd been naked so shortly ago.

Where she was naked now.

Her heart leapt into her throat as the door to her locker rattled sharply, and she was suddenly pitifully thankful for the gag which had prevented a yelp from escaping her.

"It's locked, dumb-shit. Pick another!" A voice said.

"Twenty-four is my lucky number," the other replied from directly in front of Hope. The door rattled again before the man gave a sharp click of his tongue. "But I guess number twenty-three will do."

Hope could hear the locker above her's open, trying her best to control her shuddering breaths. She felt as though they must be able to hear her pounding heart throughout the whole changing room, but they went on speaking to each-other as though nothing were amiss.

"Andrew!" the first voice said as a locker slammed shut somewhere else in the room. "Fuck, marry, kill. Stacey Kellerman, Amy Matthews, or Hope Green?"

Hope startled at the sound of her own name. Stacey and Amy were both cheerleaders on her team, but they'd never been close friends. The first was a know-it-all brunette majoring in microbiology while the second was a tall, redheaded dance major. Hope was certainly surprised to find her own name uttered alongside theirs.

"Easy," Andrew answered in a deep baritone. "Kill Stacey, marry Amy, fuck Hope Green."

"You're crazy," someone else said. "Obviously you would marry Stacey and kill Amy."

"And fuck?"

"Hope. I thought it went without saying."

"God," another voice joined the chorus. "What I would give for five minutes with that girl. I think she's the only reason we still have a football team. How else are you going to get so many guys packed into the stands?"

"I say just get rid of the game," Andrew cut in. "I'd watch three hours of just Hope with that little cheerleading outfit bouncing across the field."

"Or without it. I've certainly imagined it enough times in my bunk."

There seemed to be general agreement to that sentiment, mixed with some laughter. Hope listened helplessly, her cheeks burning as they continued, taking turns describing all the fantasies they'd carried out with her in their minds.

Was this what people thought about her? Was this what people said about her? Hope told herself she should be mortified, and on some level she was, but somehow, hearing them speak about her like this, she also felt impatiently hot all over. Maybe it was the fact that she kept imagining the bodies behind those voices, or maybe it was all the things they were describing her doing... but there was a heat between her legs, and she knew if she touched herself down there, her fingers would come away wet.

If they were to open this locker... She dared not imagine it. Whatever they wanted to do with her, naked and bound like this she'd have no way of stopping them.

Hope ached to move her body, to fulfill the urge growing inside her, but there was nowhere to go and her arms remained tightly bound behind her. Almost without thinking, her hips had begun to rock slowly forward and back as she tensed and untensed her thighs, willing the feeling between her legs to grow as she listened to the ways they would use her mouth, use her hands, use her body.

Hope had almost forgotten the agony in her knees until one ground painfully into a fleck of something sharp on the bottom of the locker. With a hiss, she jerked her knee up, quickly dropping it back down to balance herself as the pain in her other knee flared.

"You hear something?" the man using the locker above her said.

Hope froze, not daring to move an inch.

"Just you, pea-brain."

"Shove it," the man replied, slamming his locker door shut with a crash which made Hope jump.

Slowly, as the men finished up in the changing room, the voices began to empty out one-by-one. Eventually, Hope was left in her darkness once more, alone with her aching body and the thoughts spinning around in her mind.

Around her, the locker felt unbearably tight, the draw-string bag smothering, the ties at her wrists and elbows torturously knotted... and yet, she knew that without them, she would have succumbed to her urges, just as the towel collecting man had insinuated. If not for the bag over her head, she would surely have looked at all those changing men, and if not for her tied arms, she would surely have removed the covering from her face. Without them, she'd have caved to perversions, just as she'd been accused of doing. She was ashamed, but thankful. The man had helped her more than she'd ever possibly imagined. Hope vowed to thank him when he returned, vowed to apologize for her previous actions too, when he set her free.

She hoped it would be soon...

Hours later, the locker had grown suffocatingly warm from her confinement. Hope could feel sweat beading on her body, trailing between her breasts and down her thighs. Her head was sweltering beneath the draw-string bag, the stale air within growing harder and harder to breathe with each passing moment. Hope almost wished that the swim team had found her earlier, if only to relieve her legs, arms, and jaw of their absolute agony. When she finally heard the changing room door open again, she almost cried, mewling out from beneath her gag.

Moments passed before a key slotted into the lock of her prison and the door swung open, giving Hope sudden goosebumps as cold air washed over her wet body. She groaned, biting down uselessly on the dry mass of fabric stuffed into her mouth. The cold had reminded her sharply of her complete state of undress, tickling between her legs and making her nipples stand hard on her breasts. When she tried to slide exhausted and grateful out of the locker though, a hand stopped her, holding her up firmly with a palm just above her navel.

"I'm upset with you."

It was the man's voice, stern and commanding. Hope made a questioning whine in her throat. She could not bear another moment standing on her knees, but he did not seem to care.

"Because of you," he continued. "I was late returning the towels and they fired me."

Hope wanted to apologize, wanted to say how sorry she was for questioning him throughout, for taking up his time, but she could not get anything past the gag in her mouth.

"You know, I considered just leaving you in here overnight. I'm still not sure that I won't. You'd deserve it, after all. But I figured I'd give you at least a chance to make it up to me, to make it right."

The idea of spending even a second more in this locker was something Hope's mind recoiled from in horror. Feeling the walls at her backs and pressing against her sides, knowing that it would only take him a moment to shut her inside again, made Hope's throat close up tight. She nodded her head sharply when he suggested that there might be a way she could make up for it. He'd done so much for her already, Hope knew. She was happy to make it right.

He must have been satisfied with that response because she felt the bag around her head loosen and lift up ever so slightly. His hands reached behind her neck, and after a moment, she felt the mass in her mouth loosening too. It took a moment more, but when the items of clothing had been removed from between her teeth, Hope gratefully worked her jaw. She thought he would remove the draw-string bag too, but instead, the strings were tightened back around her neck once more.

"Well?" he asked her. "How are you going to make it up to me?"

"Can I please come out of the locker? My knees are so sore," she begged.

"After we've worked this out," he replied, keeping a firm hand on her stomach.

"I'm sorry I got you fired," Hope said, the words pouring out of her mouth. "I know if I'd just followed your instructions you wouldn't have been late. I didn't deserve all your help, but you gave it to me anyways and I'm grateful for that. Please, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I'll do it!"

"Anything?" the man asked.

Hope had a sudden moment of remembering all the things that the swim team had said they would do to her if they had the chance... if they were given a free pass. This guy wasn't like those men though. He'd had the opportunity to take advantage of her at every moment, but instead he had helped her the whole way along. She felt safe making him this promise. Secure in the conviction that he would not ask for anything that would put her in an uncomfortable position.

"Anything," she said. "I promise. Anything you want."

.She could sense his smile as he spoke. "Good! I'm so glad to hear it."

"Will you let me out now?" she asked him, shifting as the pain in her knees reached an excruciating height.

"So long as you promise you'll be my date for an event later tonight."

A date didn't seem so bad, although Hope couldn't say that she'd likely have accepted if he'd been asking under regular circumstances. Not that he was bad looking, just that he was not the type she'd normally have gone after. All things considered though, she would happily plaster a smile on her face and be his date for the night if it meant getting out of here. Who knew, maybe she'd even throw in a kiss at the end of the evening to thank him for being such a gentleman.

"Of course," she replied. "I'd be happy to! Although, I might need to shower again first."

The man chuckled. "Let's get you out of here, then."

To Hope's surprise, she felt him press up close to her, one arm reaching around her waist while the other grasped her leg, up near her inner thigh. He must have had to hold her like that, she reasoned, in order to help lift her out, but she was keenly aware of how close his hand was to the shaved patch between her legs as he did. Feeling the wetness there. She tried to stand as he set her on her bare feet again, but almost immediately buckled into his arms as her legs gave out beneath her.

"Oh!"

"Careful," he said. "Just sit down here for now. That'll be better for the next step anyways."

"Next step?" Hope questioned, stretching her aching legs from her place on the ground and wishing he'd remove the ties from around her arms so she could rub some feeling back into them. Maybe she should have tried to cover herself in some way again, but he had promised her that he wouldn't look, and she could barely move her legs let alone lift her knees up to her chest.

"I wasn't able to find your outfit in the lost and found, so I've had to devise a different way of getting you out of here without anyone else seeing you in your current state."

With a swift motion, he removed the draw-string bag from over her head. Hope could not believe how fresh the air tasted in her lungs as she breathed in deep. On the floor in front of her was a large grey duffle bag, like the ones in which you would normally carry gym equipment. As the man looked from her to the bag, Hope began to get an idea of what he was planning.

"No. I can't, please," Hope said, shaking her head. "There has to be some other way."

"This is all I've found so far," he replied. "If you'd prefer, you can go back in the locker until I've devised another."

Hope bit her lip, imagining having to endure another extended period of time in a small, cramped space. She was horrified by the idea, but when compared to the thought of returning to the locker, it was no contest.

"Okay," she said, eyes cast down. "I'm sorry, I did promise I'd stop questioning you."

"That's right," he said. "Now let's get you inside. I'm sure you're as eager as I am to get out of here, and we can't be sure that somebody else won't happen along while you're sitting there."

"My arms?" she asked, gesturing with her bound hands behind her as the man zipped open the duffel bag.

He gave her an indecipherable look.

"Right, of course."

He walked behind her and she felt his hands working on the knots at her wrists. He spent a few minutes there, hissing occasionally between his teeth, but the ties did not slacken.

"You must have pulled them too tight," he eventually said, throwing his hands up in annoyance. "I can't get them undone. It'll have to wait until we're back at my place and I can grab some scissors."

Of course she'd pulled them too tight. Hope kicked herself for straining so much inside the locker. Her impatience meant that she'd be stuck like this for even longer...

It was only a moment later that all that the man had said began to sink in.

"Your place?" Hope could feel her cheeks reddening again. It was one thing to be naked in front of him here in the changing room, but somehow being naked in his room was even more mortifying. She hadn't thought about it, but she'd just assumed somehow that she'd end up back in her own place in the sorority house at the end of all this.

"Well," the man replied. "Since we never did find your things, we've no way of getting into your room. Besides, I doubt your sorority sisters would just let me walk in unquestioned. You might be comfortable explaining to them why I'm carrying you in naked and tied in a duffle bag, but I'm not. You know how rumours spread. They'd think I was the pervert and I'd never be able to live it down."

He was probably right. Hope could only imagine the rumours that would have circled around campus if the swim team had found her naked in that locker.

"All my clothes are in my room though," Hope said, hearing her own voice beginning to quiver.

"Don't worry," the man said. "I'll find something for you to put on at mine. It might not be what you'd normally wear, but it'll suit you for the event tonight."

The event. To be honest, it had been the furthest thing from Hope's mind. Did he really expect her to go dressed in his old t-shirts and slacks? She didn't want to question him again, after all he'd done for her, but she could not imagine that his clothes would flatter her or suit the dress code.

"Oh," she said, trying to think of a way to broach the subject without seeming oppositional. "I'd imagined you'd want me to accompany you in a nice dress, or a skirt maybe? If we're going to the event together, I'd thought maybe I'd try to match your outfit."

The man smiled, for the briefest of moments, it seemed like a smirk. "It's a nice thought, but don't worry about matching me. I've got some things that an old ex-girlfriend left behind at my place which I think will fit you."

It wasn't the first option Hope would have picked, but it was certainly better than what she'd originally imagined. At least she wouldn't be attending this mystery event in a boy's hand-me-downs.

"Okay. Back to yours, then," she said, trying not to think too much about the trip ahead of her. "I don't even know your name."

"Myles," the man answered. "But we'll have time for all that later. Do you need help in?"

Hope's legs were still sore and aching, so she nodded her head, lifting her bound arms back so he could hook an arm around her waist again, his other hand lifting from under her knees. As he picked her up, she could not help but be intensely aware of how closely his body pressed against hers. He felt warm, and strong, lifting her from the ground with almost no effort at all. Hope had never been this near to him before without the bag over her head, and she was only just noticing the stubble on his face, the ridge of his jawline, the knowing look in his eyes as he glanced down into hers. She looked away, embarrassed; wondering if he'd been able to read everything on her face.

He was not her usual type, but he was growing on her. Perhaps something could be said for a man who would go through so much trouble to help someone in need. He'd earned a kiss for sure at the end of their date, she decided. Maybe even a second date, depending on how this first evening went... hopefully under more normal circumstances.

Carefully, he set her down inside the bag on her back, the canvas sides looming up around her. She had to bend her legs again slightly to fit, but it was nothing like the torture in that locker.

"You can stay quiet, right?" Myles asked her, standing over the bag. "If you make a noise, even accidentally, it could mean getting caught."

Hope thought back to that moment in the locker when the man had rattled the door... If it had not been for the gag in her mouth, she would have made a noise and been found. She shut her eyes for a moment, trying not to panic thinking about the tight material pressed in all around her or the choking feeling of that cloth in her mouth. Slowly, without opening her eyes, she shook her head.

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