The following story is a continuation of “…And a Rope Fanatic Was Born…” (viewtopic.php?f=32&t=21851) posted to the True TUGs section on Jan. 18, 2014:
“Jake?” Darling said, producing a coil of clothesline from behind her back. “Would you tie me up again? Please?”
Once in the bluest of blue moons, fate delivers into the hands of a bondage-minded young man an equally bondage-minded young woman. This was my moment.
“Sure, Darling. Give me a couple of minutes to scare up some more rope. What you have wouldn’t be enough for what I have in mind.” I might well have set a new record for the 200-meter dash as I sprinted home to retrieve my rope bag, but I got slowed down by the two-lane highway I had to cross. Nevertheless, it probably took no more than two or three minutes for me to return fully equipped to truss Darling within an inch of her 8-year-old life.
I knew just the place to do it, too. Off to one side of her house, conveniently located in a spot that couldn’t be seen from the kitchen window, was a sort of mini horizontal bar made of 2-inch-diameter galvanized steel pipe. Darling’s brother Brandon and I often hung out there, swinging from the bar, doing skin-the-cat exercises and seeing who could do more chin-ups.
I told Darling to sit with her back against one of the uprights. She didn’t want to get her light-blue shorts dirty, so I grabbed a scrap of plywood for her to sit on.
Her sneaker-clad feet came first. I bound and cinched her ankles snugly. Another band just below her knees rendered her legs useless.
“Now reach up over your head and grab the bar,” I said.
With her arms out of the way, I took a really long rope and bound her torso to the upright, wrapping and crisscrossing and re-wrapping until only bits and pieces of her navy blue t-shirt showed through the tangle of cords.
“Take your hands down and cross your wrists behind your back,” I ordered, and bound her wrists quite tightly behind the pole.
As a crowning touch, I looped a short rope around the cinches of Darling’s ankle bonds, slid it under her and pulled her heels up against her bottom. A square knot finished off the tie.
She looked up at me. “I can’t move,” she said, a bit wonderingly.
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I like it just fine. I just thought I’d be able to move more than this.”
“Hi, there!”
Darling and I jumped as though we’d been shot. We turned to see Gina, a girl Darling’s age, strolling casually toward us. “What are you two doing?” Gina asked.
“Jake’s tying me up,” Darling said.
“No joke,” Gina said drily. “But why?”
“Because I wanted him to.”
“How does it feel?”
“I like it,” Darling said. “It’s kind of like being hugged, only with ropes instead of someone’s arms.”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Not yet. But I haven’t been tied up very long, either.”
“Could I try it too?” Gina asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“Just like Darling?”
“Yeah, if you want.”
“OK!” She plopped down in front of the other upright. It took a few more minutes to bind Gina than it had taken for Darling, mainly because I had to tie several shorter lengths of cord together to come up with a sufficiently long torso-rope.
Once fully trussed, Gina had much the same reaction as Darling: “Wow, I can’t move,” she said.
“That’s kind of the idea behind tying someone up,” I replied.
“Could you gag us?” Darling asked.
“Sure.”
In short order, the girls had bandanna cleave-gags pulled tightly between their jaws. Both of them were chatty types, and it wasn’t long before they started gag-talking with one another. Truth be told, “gag-giggling” would be a more appropriate term. In short order, they were giggling so hard their faces went beet-red over the blue bandanna gags.
Eventually they calmed down, and quite happily stayed tied up for 10 or 15 minutes before they became uncomfortable. I freed them, and just in time too. Darling’s mother called her for lunch just minutes after the last of her rope marks faded.
“I’ve got to go,” Darling said. “But Jake? I want to do this again sometime.”
“Me too!” Gina chimed in. “Maybe next time you could tie us back to back?”
My heart did handsprings while my face played poker. “I could probably do that. But then you girls would have to let me choose the next tie.”
“Sure, Jake,” Gina said. “Anything you want. This is fun.”