Buccaneers and Bikinis

Postby sarobah » Tue Mar 24, 2009 7:55 pm

The Tie-up Chronicles
or
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bonds

Feeling nostalgic, I have decided to chronicle my various tie-up adventures from years past. Most of these stories have already been published, but I have rewritten and (with the benefit of additional hindsight) updated them. As for the dialogue, I append the usual disclaimer about dramatic licence.

1. Buccaneers and Bikinis

Ever since I was a little girl, I have loved being tied up. In my fantasies, I was the archetypal damsel in distress – the aristocratic lady kidnapped by a swashbuckling pirate, the haughty princess carried off to the harem by a dark-eyed sheik, the Indian maiden who falls into the hands of cruel cowboys, the fearless cowgirl taken by savage Injuns, the lady detective overpowered by evil henchmen – all the old-time favourites. I also enjoyed the superheroine-in-jeopardy classics – Lara Croft, intrepid and imperilled; Wonder Woman finding herself on the wrong end of that pesky lasso; Buffy the Vampire Slayer getting Spiked (... err, sorry, different fantasy). So it was fitting that in my first memorable tie-up adventure, I was captured by pirates.

I have vague recollections of earlier episodes. When I was eight or nine years of age, there was a boy in the neighbourhood whose games always seemed to end in someone getting tied up, usually one of us girls; though it cannot have been very exciting, because the details are hazy. There were a couple of other occasions, but it was not until I was thirteen that I caught the bondage bug. I have my brother Alex to thank for that. He is two years younger than me, and back then was about half my size. Not long after this, I stopped growing (upwards and outwards), so my halcyon days as bossy Big Sis were just about over anyway.

It was a sultry summer afternoon during the school vacation. For the past few years, my family had been moving frequently from place to place, so I didn’t have many close friends. That suited me, because I enjoyed my own company and liked nothing better than to be alone with a good book. We had just moved into a swanky house in a posh part of town, the sort of home people like us could afford to rent but not to buy. The suburb was surrounded by parks and bushland; there were creeks and ferny gullies; the beach was within bicycle-riding distance; there was even a boulder-field in an ancient lava pit that looked like a mediaeval fortress. It was a wonderful playground for kids, somewhere parents could let their young’uns do their own thing without getting into (too much) mischief.

On this fateful day, I was relaxing in my bikini beside the swimming pool, engrossed in my book. It was She Captains, a history of the travels and travails of women who went to sea in ships. Alex and his new pal Cody were fooling around nearby. They were disturbing my rest, so I tried to shoo them away. Naturally, this had the opposite effect.

“Watcha reading?” my brother demanded.

I held it up for them to see.

“Girl pirates?” Cody snorted. “Gimme a break.”

“Sure,” I answered, in a most obliging tone. “Arm or leg?”

He looked at me with a quizzical expression. I don’t think he got it.

Of course, there’s nothing like the mention of pirates to set a brace of whippersnappers’ hearts aflutter. After the inevitable “Arrr, me hearties” and the obligatory “Avast, ye scurvy dogs”, they disappeared into the house, and tranquillity was restored... but not for long. The boys re-emerged a few minutes later, decked out in full pirate regalia. I had to give them credit for improvisation, even if was only the rare seventeenth century buccaneer who wore denim breeches and wielded Samurai swords.

The lusty lads fought a series of noisy running battles around the yard until they had chased each other into exhaustion. As they collapsed on the grass nearby, I scrutinized them over the top of my book.

“Why don’t you go back inside and watch TV?” I said, then added rashly, “and leave me in peace.”

Recovering his manly vigour, Alex scrambled to his feet and swaggered up to me. “I got a better idea,” he growled. “What ya think, me bucko?” He turned to his advancing comrade, who responded with a malevolent grin.

“Aye, a fair young maiden to carry off to our pirate lair.” Cody flourished his weapon and let it rest on my shoulder, the tip against my throat.

“Surrender, me lovely, or you will feel the sharp edge of me cutlass.”

“Well, actually, it’s a plastic...”

“Quiet, wench,” my brother scowled.

“Shiver me timbers,” Cody exclaimed. “She’ll make fine booty, for sure.”

Precocious eleven year-olds, the boys could certainly talk the talk, but could they... you know... walk the walk?

Setting down my book, I resolved to test their pirate mettle. The reading and sunbathing were starting to pall. The stifling humidity and warm stiffening breeze were making me drowsy. The lure of adventure and danger got the better of me.

Notwithstanding their picaroon braggadocio, I was bigger and stronger than my adversaries. Separately, and probably together, I could have prevailed. And indeed, as I bounded off the sun-lounge to challenge them, they balked and retreated. Yet on impulse, I chose flight as the better part of valour. I elbowed Cody out of the way, sending him into a spin. Alex tried a tackle and sprawled empty-handed on the lawn. I made a dash for the house.

As I reached the pool-fence gate, the excitement of the chase kicked in, and I veered off my escape route. Cody having recovered his balance and Alex his dignity, the boys charged after me, driving me away from my safe haven. Cornered at the far end of the yard, I turned to face my pursuers.

“No quarter!” my brother shouted as he lunged with his sword.

I seized the blade and wrenched it from his grasp. So quickly disarmed, Alex just stood and stared at me, with a stunned guppy face. Cody backed off, shaking his head. This abduction was not going as planned.

I waved the weapon about in suitably menacing fashion, mulling over my next move. I considered for a moment turning the tables on my would-be captors. Then I thought, “Oh, what the heck!”

I flung down my weapon and raised my hands. “I surrender.”

Suspecting some kind of trickery, the boys held back. I gave them a “what are you waiting for?” glare.

Alex reacted first. Tentatively, he reached out and seized my left wrist. When I didn’t offer any resistance, he twisted my arm behind my back. Cody did likewise. With my arms pinned, I was frog-marched up the yard and forced to kneel beside the pool.

“Let’s make her walk the plank,” Cody said with his new improved bravado.

Alex thought this was a good idea; but the pool had a collapsible diving board, the kind that is folded and stowed away to save space. It would take a few minutes to set up. Would Cody be able to handle me while my brother did the job?

“We’ll tie her up,” Cody proposed.

Alex agreed. “I’ll get some rope.”

The boys released my arms, but Cody put me in a headlock. I was on my hands and knees and he crouched beside me, his arm wrapped about my neck. I began to struggle... but not too hard. His grip was not so tight that I couldn’t breathe. I could have thrown him off, but I was not eager for a wrestling match, since my opponent had me at a distinct disadvantage. I was wearing my favourite tangerine-lime string bikini and didn’t want risk despoiling it or, for that matter, losing it. So after some symbolic wiggling and whimpering, I relaxed in his clutches, stoically awaiting my fate.

Alex returned from the garden shed with several strands of nylon cord. He and Cody twisted my arms behind my back once more. In what followed, my brother proved remarkably adept for someone who later claimed to be a novice. When I obligingly crossed my wrists, he pulled them apart and looped the cord around each. All this time, I said nothing, but I was thinking how easy it would be to wriggle out of such an amateurish tie job. So I was (pleasantly?) surprised when he jerked my wrists together, wound the ends of the ropes around them a couple of times and applied a cinch. My arms were completely immobilized, and when I tested my bonds they tightened – not painfully but snugly. I wondered where my little brother had learned his craft.

I was still kneeling, Alex to the rear working on his knots, Cody crouched in front of me. When my hands had been tied, my brother suddenly gave me a hard shove and I toppled forward. Cody caught me by the shoulders and eased me downwards until I was lying on my stomach. Alex invited his friend to tie my ankles and showed him how to apply the same noose-and-cinch he had used on my wrists. After that, they stood up to watch as I twisted in my bonds and flopped about on the lawn. My squirming was not all for show. The freshly cut grass was hideously itchy against my bare skin.

Yet as I realized that I was no longer in control, I discovered an uncanny sense of calm and contentment. Weirdly enough, lying on the ground trussed and helpless made me feel strong and self-reliant. My feeling was that I must be pretty tough to let myself get captured by these pint-sized pirates, whom I could have so curtly brushed aside... Anyway, enough of the psychoanalysis; back to the story.

The boys decided that their prisoner needed to be gagged and blindfolded, so Alex did the deed. He ripped off his bandana and wrapped it around my head. As it was drawn over my eyes, I recognized our mother’s expensive red silk scarf.

“You ruin that and you’re dead meat for sure,” I told him.

“Quiet, wench,” my brother snarled, as he thrust a ball of crumpled cotton between my jaws. I was too taken by surprise to clench my teeth before the material filled my mouth. He then secured it with a rag of some kind.

I had never been gagged before, at least not properly (as opposed to those ridiculously ineffectual cleave jobs you see on TV). I was beginning to enjoy the ropes and blindfold, but the gag – at first dry and astringent, then sodden with my saliva – was just plain irritating.

To this day I maintain the proverbial love-hate relationship with gags. If I have to explain why they are so effective and so essential in a good tie-up, my personal take is this. It’s not to keep you quiet (although it does, and for a chatterbox like me that’s a bonus). Surrendering to the sensual embrace of the ropes and the eerie solitude of the blindfold, you can easily get lost in your own little world, forgetting that you are supposed to be someone’s helpless captive; but the gag is invasive and insidious, an intrusive reminder of your vulnerability. Whenever you drift off, it keeps dragging you back to reality. There is, as well, the all too obvious Freudian subtext, especially when you’ve got one of those delectable velvet-textured red balls stuffed between your lips. (Again the psychology!)

Except for the gag, I was starting to relish my predicament; but the boys quickly became bored with their game, which was simply to gawk at me as I wriggled on the grass. So they decided on torture to liven things up, tormenting me with their swords and flicking me with my towel. During my spasms of rolling about, my blindfold came off, my gag came loose and – to my dismay – the side-strap of my bikini bottom came undone. I yelled and swore revenge, and they just laughed and carried on. Cody refastened the gag and blindfold, while my brother gallantly handled the more delicate assignment.

Even when the focus of interest is a tied-up girl in a bikini, eleven-year-old boys have short attention spans, so they eventually tired of their sport. Alex stood me up, released my ankles and removed my gag.

“Pay the ransom or walk the plank,” he demanded.

Since my price was making them afternoon tea, I chose the lesser of two evils. They marched me, still bound and blindfolded, into the house to the galley (what us landlubbers call the kitchen). They untied me and I made sandwiches. After that my captors set me free, and my first authentic tie-up game was over. I went back to my reading and catching the last rays of the sinking sun. The boys disappeared into the living room to watch television or play computer games, or something, until my mother arrived home from work and sent Cody packing.

A few days later, Alex teased me about the episode. I reminded him of my oath to seek vengeance and he slunk away, suitably intimidated. Thereafter he ignored my promise of payback and I laughed off his threat of a pre-emptive strike. But I couldn’t forget how much fun I had that sultry summer afternoon.

My brother’s young friend shared in my “maiden” bondage adventure; so it’s ironic that Cody never had the pleasure of tying me up again. He was rather cute; but as a mature, sophisticated thirteen-year-old I didn’t want to be seen as a baby snatcher; and when he and Alex parted ways the following year I did not keep up the acquaintance. So wherever you are today, Cody, you were my first (well, you and my obstreperous little brother).

Re: Buccaneers and Bikinis

Postby hvspcst » Tue Mar 24, 2009 11:35 pm

Yay, sarah is back!!!

Re: Buccaneers and Bikinis

Postby sarobah » Wed Mar 25, 2009 5:37 am

hvspcst wrote:Yay, sarah is back!!!

Sweet of you to notice. :D
I have been recuperating from a fairly serious illness.
I don’t have the energy at the moment to write new stories, but I have been reading my old stuff and realized they were rather sloppily written.
Not saying my rewrites are better, though. I just want to get back into the game.
~ Sarah
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

Re: Buccaneers and Bikinis

Postby lolzintarnets » Wed Mar 25, 2009 5:48 am

Your stories are greatly written, Sarah, and this board definitely needs more girls being tied stories; it tends to be all just guy ones lol. Besides that, you're still a great writer, and I enjoy reading your stories.

Glad you're feeling better now :)

Re: Buccaneers and Bikinis

Postby bondagefan » Wed Mar 25, 2009 1:14 pm

Hope you feel 100% soon your stories are great.

Re: Buccaneers and Bikinis

Postby sarobah » Wed Mar 25, 2009 3:31 pm

Thanks for the nice thoughts.
I’m feeling fine now, due largely to the ministrations of my brother, who features a lot in my early stories.
So maybe I should go easy on him... Nah! He’d hate that.
~ Sarah
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

Re: Buccaneers and Bikinis

Postby bound-black-girl lover » Thu Mar 26, 2009 6:26 pm

1) I always LOVE a story in which younger or smaller persons over-power taller/older persons!
2) Yes, for SOME reason women/girls will put-up-with being restrained but will fight/resist thegagging--probably because
it DOES remove their last chance at freedom/escape (calling for help)!

Re: Buccaneers and Bikinis

Postby Mister Mistoffelees » Wed Apr 01, 2009 1:53 pm

I'm very happy to note you well again--and posting again. You tell such beautiful tales...
Welcome to Snowden! Enter at your own risk...