## A life-changing walk

Post by lasse672000 » Sat Aug 18, 2012 11:35 am

I was walking behind my parents, not entirely voluntarily. I was dressed in my favourite, pale pink and white, one-piece snow-suit. My head was covered by an oversized, knitted wool hat, and I had a very long, pink, knitted wool scarf wrapped around my neck and mouth and I had red knitted wool pouches on my hands, which I held together in front of me.
The reason for the scarf being wrapped around my mouth, as well as my neck was that I was ball-gagged. The pouches on my hands were hiding a pair of handcuffs. A rope was tied to the chain between the cuffs at one end, and the other end was being held by my father who was basically dragging me along.
Now, I know it must seem a bit odd, and it is, but it all depends on a bet I made with my father, just before we went out. A bet I didn’t think he would take on, I might add.
“I bet you wouldn’t go out with me, if I had my hands tied together, and was gagged!” I suddenly blurted out. Don’t ask me why I said so, because I wouldn’t be able to give you an answer, not in a million years. My mum looked at me contemplative look, and to my surprise said:”George,” (that’s my dad)”would you be so kind, as to look in the upper left drawer in the cupboard in the closet. I think there are some things in there that just might be of use to us.”
“Huh?” dad grunted. “What? Yes, I think so too! You get your hat, snow-suit and scarf on, Annie,” (that’s me)”and I’ll see what I can find. Don’t bother putting on your mittens.” At this point, I was really beginning to regret what I had just said, but when I looked at them, I saw there was no going back. He left, and came back a few minutes later, holding a plastic bag in his hands.
“I had a look at the contents, and they’re still in remarkably good shape, considering it’s been quite a while since they were used the last time! It’s all still there, ready and waiting! Right, Annie! Hold out your hands, there’s a good girl!” I did, and he put what looked like a pair of thumb-less mittens on them, with a small chain in between. He grabbed my wrists and pressed, and I could hear two “clicks”. He took his hands away, and I felt something metallic encompassing my wrists, which were now completely useless in front of me. Then, he put something rubbery in my mouth, put his hands around my head and buckled something. I tried to push out whatever it was in mouth, using my tongue, but it was stuck. When I tried to talk, it only sounded like barely audible”MMMphs” and grunts. I had, apparently, been both handcuffed and gagged, and was supposed to go out like this! Lastly, he stepped in front of me, holding a long piece of rope in his hands. He tied one end to the chain between my hands, adjusted my scarf, so it hid my mouth, and gently started pulling. I resigned to the fact that I had no choice but to follow them, wherever they were going.
“Why can’t I ever learn, to think things through before I open my big mouth?” I thought. “Oh, well! I hope we won’t go for a long walk, with me like this!”
Oh, I couldn’t have been more wrong!
We visited just about every shop there was in the neighbourhood, even stopping at the local café, so they could have a cup of coffee! It wasn’t until two hours later, that they decided to start walking home. Halfway there, we met a friend of theirs. My father excused himself, led me to a nearby tree, threw the rope over a branch, and started hauling. He didn’t stop until I was standing with my arms straight up in the air. He tied the rope off between my hands, and went back to the others.
They stood there talking for absolute ages, seemingly oblivious of me. They even came over and talked about me, as if I wasn’t even there!
“Where did you get the mittens?” their friend asked.
“George bought me the cuffs ages ago, and my mother made the mittens, so I could use them without anyone seeing them.” mum said. “She is wearing a ball-gag, hidden beneath the scarf. It too was a present from George.”
“A ball-gag, you say? That, I want to see!” their friend exclaimed. She lowered my scarf, just enough to see it, and pushed my head down so she could see how it was buckled behind my head. “I hope it’s not too uncomfortable for her to wear?”
“No,” mum said, “it isn’t. Not if you don’t wear it on a regular basis. We’ll probably keep her cuffed or bound, or both for the rest of the weekend. I don’t know, we haven’t decided yet, and that means she’ll be gagged as much as possible.”
“Speaking of gifts;” my father suddenly said, “I found that chair you sat in when you watched TV and some other stuff, while I was looking for the cuffs and gag. Maybe we should let her try them too, when we get back home. I think she’s the right size.”
“By ‘some other stuff’ I presume you mean for the bed?”
“Yes that too; among other things. All of it’s in surprisingly good condition, even after all these years. The leather probably only needs a bit of grease to soften it up a bit, and the metal-work needs a drop of oil here and there, and that’s it, really. The chair might need a bit of paint too, I don’t know. Let’s see when we come home, shall we?”
The grown-ups said good bye to each other, I was released from the tree, and we went home.
My hands were uncuffed, and I took the snow-suit off. When I wanted to take the gag out, my mother told me to let it be, and turn around, instead. She locked the mittens back on, this time behind my back, told me to sit in a chair, and used the rope to temporarily tie my ankles together. She then went and helped my father to pry a big and heavy arm-chair down the steps from the attic and into the living-room. She then went into the kitchen and got a rag and a big can of something, and went back into the living-room. Sometime later, my dad went into my bedroom, instead. Suddenly I could hear him drilling and hammering into the walls.
Half an hour later, I was led into the living-room and told to sit in the chair, which now stood in front of the TV. I noticed it had leather straps on the arm-rests, on the back, (one high up and one low down) and on each of the front legs. My cuffs were taken off, and I was strapped to the chair instead. With all the straps buckled, all I could move was my head, and even that movement was taken away, when a final strap was buckled over my forehead, making it impossible for me to move my head even one millimetre.
“Are the straps too tight, you think, George?” my mum asked. My father looked them over, yanking on every one of them, and then said they weren’t, not even bothering to ask me what I thought. They switched the TV on, making me watch a random children’s channel, and then leave to start preparing dinner, which they ate first, feeding me the leftovers.
The final shock of the day came when they released me from the chair and took me into my bedroom. My bed had now been equipped with straps on each of the four legs and one long one in the middle. When I looked around, I found the answer to all the drilling and hammering, earlier in the day. A large metal ring had been bolted into one of them at waist-height; for what purpose, I could only imagine.
I put on a white and floral patterned, long-sleeved wool night-gown, with an abundance of frills on the ends of the sleeves and around the neck. I thought it was a bit big for me, but as I still was gagged I couldn’t complain about it, so I had to live with it, hadn’t I? I lay down on my back in bed, as instructed. My wrists, waist and ankles were strapped down, and the down winter-cover was put over me. Before my parents left, they took the gag out for the last time that day.
Strangely enough, I had no trouble sleeping that night.
The following morning, my parents kept ignoring me whenever possible, and kept on talking about me as if I wasn’t even there. I took a quick shower, and put on the clothes they decided I should wear: in this case a pair of lilac woolly pantyhose, and a lilac, velvety, long-sleeved leotard, none of which I recognized as my own.
As I got dressed they came in. “Look, I even had the same size as her, when I was about her age!”
“The night-gown was a bit big, though, wasn’t it?” my father said.
“On the contrary, dear,” my mother protested, “it’s supposed to be that voluminous. I have some even more voluminous ones, for her to try as she grows older.
And so, it began.
Whazzzz up!.

### Re: A life-changing walk

Post by Plueschbabycd » Sun Aug 19, 2012 2:24 am

Hallo Lasse,
I like the story. Even I thought the would give her for night a sleep mask perhaps ear plugs. I don´t how old she it but I could think her as adult teeny or nearly adult teeny so that she could even go in sex shop or she look in Internet. So she wish her self a blind or closed hood.
Andrew
"Don´t dream it, be it." Dr. Frank N. Furter in Rocky Horror Picture Show