(R-18) A train ride

"I can't believe we're actually going to the lake together!" Madoka could barely stop herself from skipping down the aisle. She found her train car, then she found her booth, then she turned and beamed at her friend. "Thank you for taking the time to come with me, Homura-chan."

"It was nothing," Homura lied. At Madoka's insistence, she wore a foofy, robin's-egg-blue sundress and a droopy straw hat that was "so cute" on her. She was glad for the hat. It shadowed her face, hid the indicia of Homura's long night of anticipating and fantasizing and pacing around excitedly until the downstairs neighbors came to yell at her. Homura sat down and crossed and re-crossed her legs, doing her level best to look cool for Madoka. Somewhere inside her, Homura knew it made no difference. Cool or uncool, Madoka would always love her.

And besides, it wasn't like Madoka was looking. She was occupied with pushing her overstuffed bag onto the luggage rack across from Homura's seat.
"Er, Madoka... do you need any help with that?"
"No..." Madoka huffed. "I'm fine!"
"What's in the bag, anyway?"
"Oh, towels... Zinc oxide... My sketchbook..." Though Madoka's back was turned, her twintails betrayed her excitement, swinging rhythmically as she spoke. "Sandwiches! Mami-san taught me how to make my own mayonnaise, I messed it up a few times but--oh, I just know you'll love them..."

Madoka grunted lightly with the effort, negotiating the bulk of the bag as it teetered on the edge of the luggage rack. She shifted her hips, backing her rear precariously close to Homura's face. Her skirt fluttered with the motion and Homura could see flashes of Madoka's swimsuit beneath--new and smooth and tight around Madoka's gentle curves. Homura found herself leaning forward before she could stop herself and--

"Oh!" Madoka nearly dropped the bag in shock. She turned to look down at Homura and her face was pinker than her hair; for a second her mouth moved without sound, like a poorly subtitled movie, before she began babbling incoherently about how that was totally inappropriate and they would have plenty of time to play once they got to the lake and what if somebody--

Homura stood, took hold of Madoka's chin. She leaned into the deluge of half-formed words of reproach and with a kiss, she cut them off at the source. She felt Madoka tense up a little, then ease into the kiss. Homura kissed Madoka on her burning-hot cheeks and on her slender neck and on her collarbone where her swimsuit's strap peeked out under her blouse.

"Homura-chan, wait..." Madoka flattened her slender hands against Homura's chest, not quite pushing her away. "S-someone will hear."
"No, they won't," Homura said with a smile. "I never told you what was in -my- bag, did I?"
"...The camera?"

Homura shook her head lightly--her hand dipped into her purse and lifted out a well-polished ballgag.
"Ah," Madoka breathed assent and held her mouth open. Closing her eyes, she accepted the familiar bulk of the cool plastic ball being pressed between her lips. "Mmmm... Hmmura-chan..." The words came out muffled, but the love and anticipation in them was clear enough.
Madoka giggled as Homura's fingers brushed the back of her neck, connecting the gag's straps behind her head. Homura lightly touched the outside of Madoka's elbow and without needing to be told, she turned and presented her wrists, which Homura locked in padded handcuffs. The nice kind. Madoka's fingers idly drummed at the mirror-polished leather and the silver chain jangled delicately as she tested her bonds. A perfect fit, comfortable enough to wear all day--tight enough to hold her until her captor was good and done with her.

Madoka purred as she felt Homura's hands around her slender waist--then she inhaled sharply through the holes in her gag as her blouse was pulled up to expose her breasts, neatly ensconced in their bikini cups, to the cool filtered air. Homura's hands closed around Madoka's breasts, squeezing and kneading as Homura's tongue played across Madoka's ear and neck. Madoka's nipple slipped free from the swimsuit, then her entire breast, then the bikini top fluttered to the floor, forgotten. Madoka soon found herself pressed up against the window, her stiff nipples straining at the cold hard glass even as it wicked the heat from her thoroughly flushed cheeks.

"Mmm, mmmmm..." Madoka mumbled indistinctly into her gag as the trees and houses and fields whizzed past her eyes, half-closed with Homura's ministrations, the scenery melting together into a great, soft-focused blur. Madoka lost the next few minutes--hours? You could never be sure with Homura. By the time she remembered where she was, the train was passing through a town. The blurred scenery coalesced into the distinct shapes of buildings--people--eyes. Looking back through the window at Madoka, her modesty protected only by Homura's wandering hands. Everything snapped into sharp focus and Madoka started, reflexively trying to cover up--rapidly being reminded that her hands were still cuffed behind her back.

"Hhmura-chan, stpp, stpp!"
"What's the safeword?"
"Ah forget! Ahhh, uhmm, 12345!"
"Sorry, that's incorrect." Homura gave Madoka's ass a teasing little slap. "You have 4 out of 5 attempts remaining."
Madoka shuddered, a not altogether displeased squeak escaping through her gag. "Mm nuh joking, Hommmra-chan! I rlly can't rmmember!"
"Oh?" Homura smiled, leaning in close enough to nip at Madoka's ear, kneading the unpierced lobe softly between her teeth. "Let me give you a reminder, then..."
"Ticket, please."
Homura's smile only widened as she pinched Madoka's nipple. "That's not it either, Madoka-chan."
"...Hhmmura-chan?" Madoka responded between heavy, flushed breaths. "That wuhsn't me."
Homura blinked once, twice--turned around--looked the train conductor in the eye.

Madoka and Homura walked to the lake that day.