Sneaking out

Postby lasse672000 » Mon Sep 17, 2012 11:50 am

I tried to sneak out of the house as quietly as I possibly could, but failed miserably because of an empty can someone (that someone being my brother, Ben) had put just inside the door. That, and the fact I was wearing a high-necked blue plush-dress, which was very stiff and tight from the waist up and had a very voluminous, near floor-length skirt, which made the can fall over. Of course, he heard the rattle, and came running:
“And where do you think you’re going, young lady?” he asked, in a most annoying voice. Though being the younger of us he had, for some reason, been put in charge of the household and its contents (me being the most precious one, as far as he was concerned) when our parents left, to go on a very long trip (as it seemed).
“And what are you wearing?”
“You know the answer to both of those questions, very well! And my name isn’t ‘young lady’; it is Maggie, as you very well know.” I snapped. The answers to his questions were of course: A, to a friend’s house, and B, what he’s made me wear, for the last couple of weeks.
“Don’t you be impertinent with me, young lady!” he said as he walked toward me, grabbed my arm, and started dragging me up the stair again and towards my room. He may have used a stern voice, but had an impish grin on his face.

He pushed me down in a chair and took a long, wide belt from my closet, which he put around my waist and buckled behind the back of the chair. He then took a few more straps, which he used to strap my arms to the armrest and my ankles to the legs of the chair. Finally, he shoved a large wad of cloth in my mouth, and tied a scarf around my head to hold it in place.
“There,” he gloatingly said, “that should hold you, and keep you quiet, for the time being! Now, you just sit there, and think of what might have been.” And then he left. I looked around the room, making an inventory, as I had done so many times before; there was the bed, the closet, the bookcase, and the desk. Through the half opened doors of the closet, I could see all the dresses, similar to the one I was wearing, only different colours, which all of a sudden had replaced all my old clothes.
I knew that under the bed spread, buckled to the bed frame, were the straps for the arms, waist and legs he used to put me in, when I had gone to bed.
Lastly; in a drawer there were a multitude of ropes, belts, chains, cuffs, and different types of gaggers and ear-plugs.
But those weren’t only for my use. We took turns holding each other “prisoner” during the day, and so now I worked on my revenge. Because I was going to get one, before I had to go to bed; of that I was sure.

My chance came sooner than I expected, really. After an hour or so, he released me, and we were now watching TV, after having eaten dinner.
Out of the blue, he turns to me, and says:
“Look sis, I know I was kind of cruel to you earlier today, but let me make it up to you.”
“I’ll say you were!” I thought, as he continued:
“How about I let you keep me as your prisoner, until it’s time for you to go to bed?”
“OK! You’ve got yourself a deal!” I said as I bounced to my feet, rushed to my bedroom to collect the stuff I needed. I soon came back with handcuffs and several lengths of rope. No gag though, as I wanted to be able to talk to him.

I swiftly put handcuffs on him, behind his back, and tied his elbows together, as closely as I could without hurting him (too much). I tied his arms to his body, and then I turned my attention to his shins. I tied them together so snugly he protested and said it hurt. Not much, but still. Taking no notice of that at all, I pushed him onto the floor, tied his ankles together, and used the last length to fasten his ankles to his wrists. Thus hog-tied, I lifted him onto the couch again. I am rather a strong girl, but having said that, he is rather a thin little creature. We spent the remainder of the evening in peace, and I released him at round about 10 o’clock.

We went into my bedroom, where he zipped up my footie pyjama in the back, and I zipped up his. I lay down on my back and he fastened the straps around my wrists and upper arms first, before turning his attention to the strap holding my waist in place. He buckled it and then reached down between my legs and grabbed a hitherto unnoticed, rather wide new strap, which he pushed up so it ended up flat in my groin, and fastened it to the strap around my waist. He ended the procedure, as he always did, by strapping my knees and feet to the bed-frame, pulling down a sleeping mask over my eyes, and throwing the cover over me.
“Night, sis!” he whispered, and I could hear him blow me a kiss, before turning off the light. “Nighty night, bro!” I replied.
Last edited by lasse672000 on Sun Sep 23, 2012 7:10 am, edited 1 time in total.
Whazzzz up!.

Re: Sneaking out

Postby lasse672000 » Sun Sep 23, 2012 8:39 am

When Ben pulled down my sleeping mask the next morning, I could see he had something on his mind. He didn’t say anything, though, until we had changed into our day-clothes, me wearing a jet-black dress, and he a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He told me to sit down, and cuffed my knees together, so I could take only small steps. Before he went any further, I grabbed his hands and, quite alarmed by the look on his face by now, asked:
“Ben, what’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing,” he sighed, trying to sound as care-free as ever, “it’s just that our parents are missing in some African jungle or other. They called while you were sleeping,” he went on, while cuffing my hands together in front of me. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
I got up from my chair, so quickly I almost bounced. What I did do, was forgetting my knees were cuffed together, and therefore fell flat on my face. Ben started laughing and I turned around and asked what he found so funny?
“You!” he snorted. “You looked so ridiculous, when you fell flat on your face like that! Oh, how I wish I had had a camera at that moment! That would have been an award-winning picture, for sure!”
Still chuckling, he helped me to my feet, and we went and had breakfast.

The door-bell rang, just as he had strapped my waist to my seat at the table. He went and answered it, and came back a few moments later, with our aunty, Liza, a step or two behind him. When she saw me strapped to the chair, she oddly enough said nothing just hummed and sat down beside me, and started feeding me my breakfast.

It wasn’t until we all had finished, we got an explanation for her, in our eyes, strange behaviour: she and our father had done the same, when they were our age.
“He’s never said anything about that!” Ben said.
“Why should he have?” she remarked. ”It wasn’t any of any ones business anyway, we thought. Least of all, a couple of kids’! Now, let me see what kind of equipment you’ve got! Because something tells me, this isn’t all of it. Am I right?”
“No, you’re right, it isn’t.”
“Now, before we show you what we have, there’s a question I’d like to get an answer to: why have you come?”
“Oh, silly me, I completely forgot! Someone called and told me your parents were lost in the jungle; so I came to see if you needed my help in any way? When I saw you had strapped your sister to the chair, Ben, I quickly decided you did. Now, I’m not going to prevent you from doing whatever it is you are doing, just keep an eye on you, so you don’t hurt each other; by accident, or otherwise. And maybe, at some point, see if I’ve still got it in me? What do you say, kids? Do we have a deal?”
Ben and I looked at each other for a second or two, and then, with one mouth said; “Yes ma’m, that we do!”
Ben showed her the closet and drawers with equipment, while I remained cuffed to the chair in the kitchen.

Fast-forward a couple of weeks, by which time aunty Liza has more or less moved in with us: Ben sat in the chair, trying to get at least one finger on the knot I had made. He knew aunt Liza had been giving me tips on how to make an almost “escape-proof” knot, and now he had challenged me, to see if I had learned anything. The simple answer to that was: yes, I had, and I had practiced on her as often as I could. Now even she, being the master that she is, had a hard time getting free, when I tied her up. I had long since figured out a way to get out of Ben’s simpler knots, but as I pitied him, I let him think I was as helpless as ever.

I had tied Bens’ wrists behind his back and to the back of the chair, making sure the knot was on the inside, between the back of the chair and him. That was all I had to do really, to keep him in the seat for just about as long as I wanted him to be, but being the girl that I am, I tied a rope around his and ankles too, to really boast about how good at tying knots I had become.
I stood there, in my bottle-green, long-sleeved, ankle-length plush-dress, gloating. Now, I had really paid him back, for all the times he had tied me up so good, I had no hope of escaping!
Suddenly, I heard aunt Liza’s voice behind me:
“That is a mighty fine job you’ve done there, Maggie! Have you thought that knot out for yourself?” She came and closely inspected my work, and I felt so very proud of myself when I confirmed I had.
She thoughtfully said: “M-hm, I see!”, and then:
“Now, if you let me, I’m going to tie you up.” I had learned that that wasn’t really a request, but a statement. “We simply can’t have poor Ben sitting there all alone. Now can we? Be a good girl, and get more rope and a chair, will you. Then you two are going to have a contest to see, who gets free the quickest!”
I did as I was told, hoping she would use a knot I had been practicing on. My hopes were dashed, when she tied me the same way I had Ben. I had certainly practiced untying them, but had been just about as successful as Ben, in other words; not really.

She tied me to the chair in exactly the same way I had tied Ben, and then walked over to inspect the knot on the rope around his wrists. As he had actually managed to loosen it a bit, she redid it and then stood in front of us.
”OK, kids,” she said. “There will be no time-limit, but the one, who gets free first, gets to decide for how long, and in what way, the other one will be tied up. Now, if that isn’t incentive enough for you to really give it a good try, I don’t know what is!”
It took us more than two hours, to get free, and Ben beat me by a whisker. “Sorry sis,” he said when he got out of the chair,” but I’m afraid, you’re going to have to stay tied to the chair for a while longer. I don’t yet know for how long, I’m just going to use what my gut instinct tells me on this one. Oh, and by the way, you’re not the only one aunty have been given private tie-up lessons. Just so you know.” His gut instinct apparently told him until dinner time, because that’s when he released me.

Fast forward another couple of weeks: Aunt Liza had just tied both Ben and me up, as it was time for our by now customary, mid-morning tie-up game. We were both on our tummies, our hands firmly tied behind our backs and secured by the elbows and waist to our bodies. Our knees and ankles had also been tied together, and we had large wads of cloth put in our mouths and sealed in with bandages and tape. The gags had two purposes: one to keep us quiet, naturally, and the other one was to prevent us from helping the other one loose with our teeth.
Suddenly, I heard a gasp from the door. I looked over to see who it was, and to my surprise and shock, there were our parents! When they saw us, they rushed in and took our gaggers out, and would have started untying us too, if I hadn’t managed to stop them.
I told them we hadn’t been burglarized or anything like that, that we were just fine, (“Oh, I don’t know about that!” dad said, under his breath) and that it actually was aunt Liza who had tied us up, to see which one of us got loose the quickest. The winner would get total control of the loser’s freedom, or lack thereof, until mid afternoon and, bending the truth a little, that the competition was all my idea to start with.
“So, this is your idea of a competition, is it? And speaking of ideas; are you wearing that kind of long dress and pantyhose, also your idea?”
“Um, well no, that would be Ben’s. But I’ve come to like it so much I don’t think I’ll ever want to wear anything else, for the rest of my life!”

While I had been explaining things to our parents, Ben had quietly been working on getting free, and now he stood up, with the ropes in his hands.
“TADAAA! I’M FREE!” he shouted. “Now, you’re all mine, sis!” he said. “If you’ll let us continue, that is!” he added, turning to mum and dad.
“HEY! That’s not fair! I was talking to them!” I screamed, at the same time as they looked at each other, smiled and said “Of course we do. We definitely don’t want to stop you from having so much fun. Just be careful, will you. We’ll go and try to find Liza in the meantime.”
The three of them returned just as Ben had finished tying my arms and legs to a chair, and was in the process of putting the gag back in my mouth. They let him wrap my head, below the nose, in bandages and tape, before starting to tell us about how they had been completely lost in the jungle, and how they more or less had to hitchhike their way back home.

After having fed me my lunch, Ben untied my legs, and we proudly showed our parents our bed-room, the additions to my bed, and our new night-clothes.
Dad pondered about what he’d just seen, and said: “Seeing your bed having straps on it, but not Ben’s, gave me an idea. I’ll have to check with Liza first, though.” He wouldn’t say anymore, but that night Ben’s bed was equipped with straps, too. On the night-stand beside his bed, lay a pair of blacked-out skiing-goggles.
“Those straps and goggles was Liza’s once upon a time, but she’s kindly donated them to us. Neat, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, “can I please have a pair, too?”
“’Course you can!”

That afternoon’s TUG-session had a very special guest star: our dad, who said he’d actually missed being tied up. Mum turned out to be a natural at tying people up; so much so, it took us quite a while before anyone of us got free. I’m pleased to say I was first, dad coming in at a second place. Ben was last, beaten by the two of us by a good five minutes!
As dad had been a guest in our game, he didn’t have to stay tied up until dinner as Ben was, nor did he want to.
At bedtime, mum strapped me to my bed, and dad strapped Ben to his. Just before she left, she said: “Oh, I almost forgot! Liza did have a spare pair of goggles, which she gave to you. I think they’ll work much better, than the sleeping-mask. In fact, I know so!”
She put them on me, and she was absolutely right; they worked much, much better!
Whazzzz up!.