## 14 - Tying Tiffany... for the First Time (m/f)

Post by canuck100 » Tue Oct 06, 2015 10:29 am

This is a repost of a story originally published by Silent Simon in March 2003
Tying Tiffany...for the first time
My sister Tiffany was three years younger than me, which means she was only five the first time I ever got tied up by our older brother Tim. I suppose because she was so much younger than he was, Tiffany was never really a target of Tim’s tie-ups. He also favored her over me, so I was so often the victim, while she was the bystander, or even the helper when they captured me. Of course, as she got older, I know Tim tied her up a few times, but she was much more likely to be my captive than his.
I suppose she was about eight the first time I tied her up, and thereafter she became a frequent hostage at my hands. Eventually, we included some of her friends, and some of mine, but to me there was always something special between Tiffany and me and we preferred to play alone most of the time.
It was summertime, just before I turned eleven. Tiffany had turned eight at the beginning of the summer, and suddenly she had wanted to become my pal. Of course, I thought she was annoying, and she always managed to get me in trouble, so I really didn’t want her tagging around with me. Then my friend Bryan’s family went on vacation and my friend Kevin was gone for two weeks to summer camp, and I didn’t have any of my own pals to play with. So I resorted to playing by myself.
As you may have guessed, I had quite an active imagination. I was always dreaming up stories to write down and illustrate, or pretending like I was some action hero I had seen on TV. My friends and I would act out elaborate plots, from TV, movies, or my imagination, and they usually turned out to be the ones where someone got captured and tied up. But by myself, it wasn’t always easy to act out everything. In fact, it was that summer that I started experimenting with tying myself up. I eventually got pretty good at it, too.
I was alone in my bedroom one afternoon, with a few ropes I had gathered and a couple of bandannas I had snatched from Tim’s backpack. I successfully tied my feet together, then stuffed my mouth with a bandanna and tied the other one around my mouth. I was just studying how to tie my hands when my bedroom door opened and I looked up into the curious and startled expression of my eight year old sister.
“Simon?” she asked. “What are you doing?”
I whipped the gag out of my mouth and said, “Tiffany! Don’t you know how to knock?”
She grinned. “But what are you doing? Why are you doing that to yourself?”
Thinking furiously quick, I blurted out, “I’m practicing.”
“Practicing for what?”
“For the next time I have to tie somebody up.”
“You mean like Tim ties you up sometimes?”
“Yeah, like that. Only I’m going to tie someone else up.”
“Like who?”
With an eight-year-old sister who was infinitely curious, I knew that these questions could go on forever, so I said something I hoped would just make her leave. “Well, I could tie you up.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, and I thought she was going to run away screaming or something, and then she said, “You want to practice on me?”
You remember the story I told about my babysitter Rebecca? That was when I was nine, nearly two years ago, and that was the one and only time I had ever tied up a girl. For some reason, Rebecca had never come back to baby-sit—maybe she was furious about how my brother and his friend had left her tied up and gagged for such a long time—and I had never gotten up the nerve to ask any of the other sitters. Now my sister was practically offering herself as a sacrificial captive so that I could “practice” tying someone up. She didn’t have to offer twice.
I had tied the rope around my legs with slipknots, and an instant later, I was free from my self-inflicted captivity. When I stood up, I grabbed her by the arm and pulled my bedroom door shut, then told her to sit down on the floor. She did, and I knelt behind her, pulling both of her hands behind her back. She twisted her head around to watch as I crossed her wrists and looped a piece of rope around them, knotting it off with something a little more difficult than a slip knot.
“How’s that?” I asked, moving around in front of her with another piece of rope.
“It’s a little tight.”
“Well, it’s supposed to be tight.” I placed her feet together and quickly tied her ankles, then I took another and tied it around her knees. She was watching with the increasing fascination of an eight-year-old, and then she saw me reaching for my two bandannas. I started wadding one up and she balked.
“Didn’t you have that in your mouth?” she demanded to know.
“Uh—yeah. But it’s the only one I’ve got,” I explained, bringing it close to her mouth. She turned her head away.
“Get something else, Simon!”
I looked around, suddenly at a loss. Then I thought of something. Going over to my dresser drawer, I pulled out a pair of white socks and unfolded them. I knew they were too big to stuff in her little mouth, so I pulled a knot in one and knelt behind her. “Is this better?”
“Your going to put your sock in mymmmmmppppphhhhhh!” I slipped the knot into her moving mouth, turning her protest into an indecipherable grunt, and tied the ends of the sock tightly behind her head. Then I wrapped its mate around her eyes and fixed it as a blindfold.
“There you go, Tiffany. See if you can get out of that while I go get a snack.” She whined into the knotted sock gag, but I just smiled and walked quietly from the room, careful to close the door behind me so no one would just see her like that. I wasn’t sure how much trouble I would get in for tying up my little sister, but I couldn’t help but wonder that it had been worth it just to shut her up and keep her out of my way for a little bit.
More Ties with Tiffany
When I came back into the room, I did so as silently as possible, carefully shutting the door so as not to make any noise. I wanted to watch my sister Tiffany without her knowing I was watching. She was right where I had left her, sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor. Her hands were secured with rope behind her back, her legs stretched out in front of her bound at the ankles and knees. She was gagged with one of my athletic socks and blindfolded with its mate. Now she was struggling uselessly in her captivity, and I moved quietly around her so I could see everything she was doing.
I had tied a knot in the middle of the sock gag, and I loved the way she worked her mouth around it, grunting quietly into the knotted cloth as she twisted her arms this way and that. She could probably have made a lot more noise…I had already learned the benefits of stuffing someone’s mouth. But she just mewed very softly in childish aggravation. She kicked her legs out in front of her, and to my delight toppled herself onto her back. She rolled around and began to thrash wildly, still grunting through my sock but no closer to freeing herself. Suddenly, to my surprise and to hers, the sock over her eyes slipped loose, and I found myself staring wide eyed into the wide blue eyes of my little sister.
“Himmmmonnnnn! Ahhhh-ahhhhhhoooooo oooooiiinnnnnnggggg!!!” She cried around the knot in her mouth, and I reached forward to quickly pull it down. Her face was all sweaty and flushed, and she gasped for breath, then she looked at me and said, “How long have you been there?”
“Just a little bit,” I replied as I rolled her over to begin untying her. For her first time being tied up, I though she had been quite a little trooper. I freed her legs first, and then her hands, and she sat up rubbing her wrists and watching as I began putting my stuff away.
“Are we finished?”
I stopped and looked at her, surprised at what I heard in her voice. Had she really not had enough? I wondered. “Why? You want me to tie you up again?”
“Sure. I want to see if I can get loose.”
“So you liked being tied up?” I asked, curious.
She shrugged. “It was okay. But I think I could get loose from it if I had another chance.”
I was contemplating tying up my little sister for the second time when I heard our mother call from downstairs. “Simon! Tiffany! Supper time!”
I saw the disappointment on Tiffany’s face and said softly as I shoved my little collection under my bed, “It’s okay, Tiff. We’ll do it again some time.”
“Really?” she asked in delight.
“Sure.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Maybe later.”
“Okay!” And with that, she bounded from the room, and I was quick to follow.
An After Dinner Entanglement
As soon as dinner was over, I bounded upstairs while my sister Tiffany helped our mother with the dishes. A plan was formulating in my vivid imagination, a scheme to put Tiffany in a bind once more before this night was over. She had already said that she wanted to do it again, I just wasn’t sure how she would respond to a surprise.
Running into my bedroom, I grabbed the stuff from under my bed and realized I was going to need more. I had enough rope to tie her hands and feet like before, and the two bandannas. I didn’t really want to use my socks again, so I decided I needed to get into Tim’s room. I looked out into the hallway and saw that the coast was clear. I darted down the hallway to my brother’s bedroom and peeked through the open door. He wasn’t there, so I guessed he must still be downstairs, probably watching TV with dad. I went straight for his closet and grabbed the backpack full of stuff he had always used to tie me up with.
I rummaged quickly through his stuff, pulling out a couple more long pieces of rope, two white handkerchiefs and another bandanna. Dropping the backpack where I had found it, I rushed from the room. With my heart pounding, I heard Tiffany saying something to Mom about going upstairs and I knew I barely had time. I raced down the hallway to my room, grabbed my other stuff, and then darted on down into her room just as I heard her footsteps on the steps below the landing. I flipped the light off and waited just behind the door.
Tiffany came in and turned on the light, and just before I grabbed her, I saw her look sideways. I don’t know if she saw me or not, but when my hand clamped down over her mouth, she made only a little noise of protest and put up not much of a struggle. I wrapped my other arm around her, pinning both of her arms to her side, and she wiggled just a little in my grasp, grunting into my palm. I closed her door with my foot and said, “Well, ready to see if you can get loose this time?” To my delight, she nodded. “Good. Now, just do exactly as I say, okay? And everything will be alright.” Again she nodded.
I moved her to the middle of the room and whispered against her ear, “I’m going to let you go, but don’t scream or I’ll have to gag you, and I won’t be nice about it.” Of course, I was going to gag her anyway, but she didn’t have to know that just now. I released her and she turned to stare at me with enormous blue eyes, her mouth curled in a half smile. “Kneel on the floor with your hands behind you,” I said. She complied, and I knelt behind her with a piece of rope stretched between my hands.
Tiffany crossed her wrists with her palms out, but I said, “No, not like that. Put your hands together.” She did as I commanded, intertwining her fingers together. I wrapped the rope around her wrists three times, then said, “Now open your hands.” When her fingers came apart, I slipped the rope between her hands and wrapped it up and around the horizontal loops of rope, cinching the binding as tightly as I dared. I wanted her to be secure, but I didn’t want to hurt her…and I didn’t want to leave marks either.
Next, I took some longer rope and looped it around her arms and chest, pinning her arms down against her sides. Then I told her to sit down on her bottom and put her legs out in front of her. While she was doing that, I took out a bandanna and quickly blindfolded her with it.
“Hey!” she exclaimed at the unexpected blinding.
“Now Tiffany, remember what I said about talking.”
“You didn’t say anything about a blindfold!” she protested, and I grinned, glad she couldn’t see me. I used the rest of my rope to tie up her feet and legs, then I reached for one of the white handkerchiefs.
Shaking it out, I wadded it into a compact little ball and said, “Think you can get out of that?”
“Yemmmmpppppphhhhh!” I cut off her eager answer with the wadded handkerchief, grabbing the back of her head as I thrust the cloth between her lips and poked it deep into her mouth with my fingers. “Uuuummmmppppphhhh!” she protested around the expanding cloth as I brought one of the bandannas up between her lips and jerked the ends across her cheeks and behind her head. I knotted it rather tightly, so that it crammed the handkerchief even further back behind her teeth. As continued to grunt furiously against the gag, working her mouth around it, I feared she might attract some unwanted attention if I didn’t keep her quieter, so I stuffed the second handkerchief into her mouth in front of the folded bandanna, and used my final bandanna to completely swathe the bottom half of her face.
Once the last layer of the gag was on and she was grunting softly behind it, I said with a chuckle, “There you go, Tiff. Let’s see if you can get out of that.”
Silent Simon