## How I Learned to Stop Worrying... (Finally Continued!) 3M/5F

Post by sarobah » Tue Dec 28, 2010 4:33 am

THE LONG LONG WEEKEND
or
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage
This is the true story of my birthday weekend a month ago. It takes a while to get started, so I hope readers will bear with me through the convoluted introduction. Some time ago I committed myself to writing up all of my TUGs adventures of the past decade, a task Iâ€™ve never completed. So now I am taking the opportunity to set things right with some early digressions.
PART ONE: THE PLAYERS
Alex and Michelle
He is my brother and she is his girlfriend. Alex is nearly three years my junior. Heâ€™s a true aficionado of bondage games who learned and perfected his craft under the inspiration and guidance of yours truly. Indeed, as I have written about previously, the first time I was ever tied up it was he who did the deed; and over the next few years I could rely on him whenever I wanted to play the damsel in distress. Of course, as we got older, we moved on... not from TUGs, of course, but from Lil Bro tying up Big Sis.
Michelle and I met at university, and I thought that she and Alex might hit it off together, even though itâ€™s an odd match. Sheâ€™s gorgeous and elegant, some two years older than my brother and in my opinion way above his class (although in this respect I guess I may be biased). After they became a couple, we went on double dates, but the topic of bondage never came up in conversation, except via a few oblique references. But then, one morning, I called round to her place for some reason I no longer recall. She lived in a small apartment located just off-campus. It was Saturday and the building was full of activity, with people coming and going or just hanging about, but Michelleâ€™s flat was mysteriously quiet. I wasnâ€™t surprised when it was Alex who answered the door, but I became increasingly baffled as he ushered me inside, nonchalantly made me a cup of coffee and offered me some of his breakfast.
From his odd demeanour I knew he was up to something, and finally I could bear the suspense no longer.
â€œSo whereâ€™s Michelle?â€ I demanded.
My brother did not answer, but strolled out of the kitchenette, beckoning for me to follow. The bedroom door was open, and there she was, prone on the bed. She was lying on her stomach, half-wearing a frilly negligÃ©e, the top pulled down to her waist, the hemline drawn up over the bare flesh of her bottom. Her hands were bound behind her back with what looked like a couple of brassieres joined together, and her ankles were trussed with pantyhose. Her feet were secured to the end of the bed with another pair of tights. She was turned towards me. Her faced was flushed and she was panting heavily through a bulbous ball-gag. She looked up at me with doleful eyes, slowly blinked and grunted a terse greeting.
Alex casually sat on the edge of the bed and released the nylon tether. I assumed he was going to untie her, and so did she; but instead he placed one hand on the rear of her knees, and with the other grabbed her ankles and bent her legs until her heels touched her backside. She rasped an ineffectual protest, then moaned softly as he used the pantyhose to put her into a full hog-tie. She continued to twitch and make whimpering noises through her gag, so he gently kissed and caressed the top of her head. He ran his fingers through her hair, moist and stringy from perspiration. He tenderly brushed away the little beads of sweat which had gathered on her forehead and cheeks, and dabbed off the tiny bubbles that dribbled from the corners of her mouth, around the edges of the ball. It all seemed so un-Alex-like gallant, until I saw what he was using â€“ crumpled up pink lace panties which matched her dishevelled nightie.
My brother stood up, admiring his handiwork as his girlfriend, looking so helpless and so incredibly sexy, squirmed in her bonds, before he turned to me with a malevolent grin.
â€œHow about that breakfast?â€ he said.
So that is how I discovered how well I had taught my sibling protÃ©gÃ©. I felt so proud.
Michelle was still trussed and gagged when I left, and it wasnâ€™t till few weeks later that I found out her history. Since then, she and Alex have been an integral part of my TUGs clique. Of course, heâ€™s still my baby brother, so we have avoided the more intense games that I play with others, in particular...
Jack and Sabrina
Jack was my second serious boyfriend (I am now on my third and presumably last). Although I had been playing tie-up games for many years BJ â€“ before Jack, that is â€“ it was he who moved me to the next level. I have described him often enough that he needs no introduction to those familiar with my escapades. For the rest, I shall briefly revisit what I have written before. Jack is the archetypal manâ€™s man but also a real womanâ€™s man. Heâ€™s a no-nonsense, take-charge sort of guy, strong enough to be tender, secure enough to not take himself too seriously, confident enough to always be in control yet able to give as easily and as readily as he takes. His lady love Sabrina complements him perfectly. A successful architect, she is several years his elder, a tall, striking brunette with a vibrant personality, a dazzling smile, sparkling eyes and a sharp intellect framed within a perfect body. Sheâ€™s the sort of woman who would veer away from a character like Jack if she encountered him casually at a party, but she had the perception to see through his rough-hewn veneer.
They make an interesting couple. Although she is, in her professional life, an assertive, independent woman, who owns the house they live in and is the principal breadwinner, Sabrina enjoys what I call an inverse power dynamic â€“ a strong, self-reliant female who submits willingly and joyfully to her man.
As with Alex and Michelle, it was I who brought Jack and Sabrina together. I am quite the matchmaker, it seems. Itâ€™s a long story but worth the telling.
I met Jack through my then roommate, and he tied me up for the first time on our second date. Back then â€“ this was nearly five years ago â€“ I was not so circumspect about my bondage games, although I was always careful to disguise my public activities within the wrappings of a mainstream lifestyle. Nevertheless, I was developing a reputation as Little Miss Kinky, which is why in fact my roomie had put me on to Jack, since he had a similar repute, though somewhat more dissolute... some would say degenerate.
Our tempestuous relationship lasted just over a year, and around the time that we were beginning to go our separate ways, I was a member of a group at university which I will call the Womenâ€™s Adventure Club. Thatâ€™s not the true name, but it conveys the right flavour. Itâ€™s a group of likeminded gals who get together once a month for an â€œextremeâ€ adventure. Our exploits werenâ€™t really that wild, though more for want of opportunity than daring. For example, I had done some parachuting and that was how I originally got to join. We were mainly about doing crazy things, but we were also involved in feminist politics on campus. In fact, to be honest I think it was as much our raison dâ€™Ãªtre as anything else to prove that we had balls as big as any manâ€™s... at least metaphorically.
So when it came my turn to nominate a suitably â€œout thereâ€ adventure, I had just the thing. The previous monthâ€™s theme had been â€œextreme cuisineâ€ (donâ€™t ask!), and in the wake of that particular occasion my suggestion received a more positive reception that it might have otherwise. I proposed a night of bondage games. I wonâ€™t go into too much detail here (I may in another posting sometime). There were about a dozen of us (an average attendance... two more than the bugs Ê¼nâ€™ slugs evening) and several of us brought along boyfriends. (There were also some girlfriends, but these were already members.) As it turned out, Jack and I were the only pairing with any sort of genuine TUGs experience, and so it was not surprising that it became a night of guys tying up girls, guided by Jack as ropemaster-in-chief and me as demonstration model. Guy-on-girl has always been my preference, of course, but in this case it was easy to rationalize. The mission statement of the WAC is that as members you are supposed to experience the unfamiliar, explore your outer limits and go beyond your comfort zone. That meant being on the receiving end of the ropes.
A fun time was had by all, but the males, who had two damsels each on whom to carry out their dastardly deeds, for that reason probably had the best of it. However, if weâ€™d had more time we might have done a switch, and some of the girls were disappointed by that. (I mention this because it has some relevance to the Long Long Weekend. Yes, I am getting to it.)
Sabrina was not present that night. She was a former member of the WAC but had finished uni. Nevertheless, sheâ€™d heard about our TUGs night and she sought me out for an interrogation. Since Jack and I were then in the process of amicably splitting up, she was available and clearly shared his interest in bondage. I therefore got her and him together. The chemistry worked immediately.
And this is where the first two parts of my story converge on the third.
Rob and Sarah
Jack and I ended our relationship on good terms. He and Sabrina remain my closest friends, and we have regular get-togethers for bondage fun. Rob (my now boyfriend) was totally new to the genre and at first very skeptical about our games, indeed rather uptight. As you can imagine, it can be frustrating trying to show a newbie the ropes when you are the one who is to be tied up. But while he has never truly understood the appeal, he has always been a sweetheart about indulging my passions, and he is a fast learner. Of course, I have my means of making him happy in return, so itâ€™s a good arrangement.
At first I was understandably shy about revealing the kinky side of my nature. Our third serious date was his birthday, and we were in a restaurant when I gave him his present. After heâ€™d opened it, I dropped the ribbon onto the table and reached across the table, placing my palms together. I said something embarrassingly corny about having me gift-wrapped. After some further coaxing, he bound my wrists, feeling very self-conscious doing it in public; but none of the other patrons appeared to notice and our waitress just smiled. And having broken the ice, I was thereafter able to lead him all the way into my weird and wonderful world.
He adapted quickly; and not long after the episode with Michelle in her flat, the six of us â€“ Jack and Sabrina, Alex and Michelle, Rob and myself â€“ were celebrating some anniversary with an intimate TUGs party. It happened to be football finals season, and as we all know, it is written into the male genetic code that the choice between playtime with half-naked bound girlfriends and sport on the TV is no choice at all. At first the guys put us hogtied and gagged at their feet on the living room floor; but our wriggling and grunting was too much of a distraction. It was their fault for callously blindfolding us as well, so we couldnâ€™t partake in the visual delight of two dozen men in tight shorts playing with one ball. Thus they moved us to the bedroom. As a safety precaution they removed our gags but left us trussed up and blindfolded, prostrate side by side on the bed. At least we got to talk for two or three hours. It was actually rather nice. Girl talk is not all that different when youâ€™re helpless and immobile, bound hand and foot.
Thatâ€™s when Michelle enlightened us about her prior tie-up adventures. Like me, she had started early, with her two brothers, though unlike me she didnâ€™t always play the damsel in distress. In fact, she enjoys the switch; but since Alex is strictly one-way in this respect, she is happy to remain the submissive. So the point Iâ€™m making is that itâ€™s rather funny that I was able to introduce both Jack and Alex to their current girlfriends (who are also, incidentally, both older than their guys, though I doubt thereâ€™s much significance in that) before I knew very much of their penchants and proclivities. I must have some kind of kink radar.
During the halftime interval, the males came in and took away Sabrina. When theyâ€™d gone, Michelle engaged in some fearful whispered speculation about what was happening out there, until I explained â€“ between giggles â€“ that they were making her fix them snacks for the second half. Sure enough, she was returned to us intact when the game resumed. Still, it was cruel of the guys to give poor Michelle a panic attack like that. I guess it was their way of initiating her into our kinky crew. Now she was one of us.
Andrea and Karen
The final member of our original roster for the Long Long Weekend was Andrea. Sheâ€™s another uni student. We met at one of Jack and Sabrinaâ€™s soirÃ©es. I have described her before, russet-haired and dark-eyed, a no-frills, plain-speaking, down-to-earth gal. I had been rather surprised at her interest in TUGs. That she should be is an eloquent tribute to their subversive allure. On the other hand, I wasnâ€™t shocked to discover that, like Michelle, she enjoys being on either end of the ropes. In fact, she tied me up once, and though she has some nice moves, it was by no means one of my gentler experiences.
Andreaâ€™s on-off boyfriend is Luke. As with Alex and Michelle, from my humble perspective they make a discordant couple. For the sake of discretion I wonâ€™t go into specifics, except that heâ€™s rather arrogant and I find him distastefully sexist. But he and Andrea have an antagonistic relationship that seems to work well. I get the impression that they take out their frustrations with each other on each other during their tie-up sessions. I certainly wouldnâ€™t want to get between them when the ropes start flying.
Luke has a cousin named Karen who is exactly his age â€“ they were born just a few hours apart. She is what might be called an attractive ugly duckling. Sheâ€™s small but athletic, tomboyish but pretty, with shaggy, close-cropped, sandy blonde hair, the sartorial style of a street urchin, a somewhat aloof manner and an intimidating way of staring at you even when sheâ€™s being friendly. The first time we met I disliked her; the second time I loved her. She has that type of personality.
Karen became the unexpected eighth member of our party.
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:09 pm, edited 2 times in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Tue Dec 28, 2010 7:02 am

PART TWO: PRELUDE
It was my birthday in early December, and for those of us who are still students, classes were over for the year. We were planning a three-day end-of semester celebration, which by judicious reshuffling and rationalization of our schedules could be extended to a four-day long, long weekend. The for-the-record purpose was to work on Sabrinaâ€™s country home. She recently bought a house in the hills that is fairly new but had been neglected and so needs lots of restoration. She lets us use the place from time to time, so the least we can do is to help out with the renovations.
However, there was going to be lots of adventure and excitement, mainly of the tie-me-up tie-me-down variety. This was largely my doing. For several months I have had to curtail my TUGs activities, in fact eschew a goodly part of my social life, on account of professional commitments, with some family issues and health problems thrown into the pot as well. So I decided unilaterally that my birthday presented a splendid opportunity to make my comeback. I informed my friends of their invitations, garnered acceptances through cajolery, chicanery and coercion (the three Cs any good hostess should learn and apply) and gave up several of my precious waking hours to plan, prepare, procure, organize, coordinate and delegate. (Some people call me obsessive-compulsive, but I donâ€™t see it.)
Then, throwing the proverbial spanner into my well-crafted works, Luke had to bail out. He studies geology and announced that he had a seven-day field trip to attend. In addition to Andreaâ€™s disappointment, we were all immensely irritated by his late withdrawal, if only because it upset the balance of couples. Yet oddly enough, this turned out to be a good thing... and I donâ€™t mean because of Lukeâ€™s absence. Indeed, I am reconciled enough to be sorry for Luke that he missed out on the fun and games.
As recompense and a substitute, to one of our planning meetings Luke brought along Karen. At first she believed it was going to be just a â€œnormalâ€ weekend, until when we started discussing ropes and gags. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened; but she later admitted that she knew all about our TUGs and was intrigued by them. She had never been involved in any sort of bondage herself, but she was ready and willing to give it a go. Iâ€™m not sure she really understood what she was getting herself into; but it all turned out well, and I should therefore give Luke credit for his cousinâ€™s debut into this whole new world of sensation.
Nevertheless, his absence changed the dynamic. None of the three remaining guys is into being tied up. They are not prejudiced â€“ itâ€™s just not their â€œthingâ€. They have never had a problem with Andrea and Luke switching roles. So the obvious solution was to pair the two girls, Andrea and Karen. I suppose we didnâ€™t really need to arrange ourselves in couples to that extent, but we expected that there would be times when it would be appropriate, so that was how it had to be. (Anyway, I had planned for it, which makes it ordained.)
But then more problems arose... Complications, always complications! First of all, Jack is a junior cricket coach, and he discovered, to his chagrin just a week in advance, that the club he worked with had programmed a two-day tournament for the Saturday and Sunday. Naturally he was extremely annoyed with the competition organizers, but heâ€™s not the type of guy to penalize the kids, so he reluctantly agreed to do his duty. Then came another blow â€“ Rob would have to return to the city by Sunday morning, for family reasons. We had already cancelled a previous long weekend adventure and it was beginning to look like the enterprise was doomed from the get-go.
With our plans unravelling, somewhat to my surprise the most disappointed of us was Karen. She saw the weekend as an opportunity to savour a lifestyle completely different from her everyday experience. As a result, we decided to forge on ahead rather than risk a postponement that might become permanent. Jack would accompany us on the Friday but would return to the city first thing the next morning, and be back early on Monday. Rob would leave on that same afternoon and also be back on Monday.
So, once more on track, we held our last meeting on Thursday evening, when we established the rules and boundaries. Weâ€™ve always been very strict and scrupulous about this. Some of them were quite stringent, which is obviously so important when you take your bondage play seriously. For example, though we had our safe words and signals, we decided that we (the girls, that is) should not be allowed to opt out of any situation whenever one felt so inclined â€“ â€œa frivolous cop-outâ€ was how Alex expressed it with his usual tact â€“ so if any of us did so, she would be excluded from all games for the ensuing twenty-four hours. We also agreed that the males should have total control (subject to the opt-out and protection protocols), not just to accord with the guy-on-girl theme but to reinforce it because, for part of the weekend, we females would outnumber the men five-two, even at times by five to one. Or as my own dear Lil Bro so gracefully put it, â€œHow are we gonna keep the womenfolk in line?â€ This elicited the response he no doubt desired, a hearty chorus of [expletive deleted]. But he had a point.
To conclude, there were the usual policies and procedures weâ€™d long since set in place for this sort of occasion â€“ no one to be left alone bound and gagged, no one to be more than one room away from assistance while tied up, no sexual contact (including fondling or groping) except with oneâ€™s regular partner or with verbal consent, nothing too painful or humiliating, no public bondage, and so on. This part of the discussion left Karen mentally reeling, feeling intimidated but also reassured by the depth and breadth of the detail we covered.
We ended our meeting with some recreational bondage. Luke was with us, and starting to regret his impending absence. But he was the lucky guy that night, getting to tie up his cousin and be tied up by his girlfriend. Because it was her first time, Karen got off relatively lightly, with an easy hog-tie and a penis-gag. At first she kept her limbs stiff, which made it hard for Luke and even harder on her. She shook her head and groaned, but after she started to relax she discovered the pleasure of being tied up. Nevertheless, she looked alarmed when, hands and feet bound, she was pushed down to the floor for completion of the hog-tie. She grunted and puffed, and rolled her eyes as her wrists were brusquely bound to her ankles. At first she resisted the gag as well, clenching her teeth in grim determination. I think she recoiled at the connotations of the unmistakable shape of what was to go into her mouth; but Luke employed the technique thatâ€™s tried and true for a novice, a bout of tickle torture. As soon as she started screeching for mercy, he thrust the shaft between her jaws. She struggled for a while, but when she saw what the rest of us were being subjected to â€“ much more rigorous than anything she was put through â€“ she accepted her fate. She did get a shock when Andrea started on Luke. Like many newbies, she was under the misapprehension that â€œseriousâ€ bondage is always about men tying up women.
To be continued...
Last edited by sarobah on Wed Dec 29, 2010 7:15 am, edited 2 times in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by xtc » Tue Dec 28, 2010 8:41 am

OO ER! What happened?
However, your usual well written literary style. I look forward to the PRELUDE being sorted.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by xtc » Tue Dec 28, 2010 8:43 am

Hang on. That's cheating. I had to highlight the text to read it!
XTC
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by whatever747747 » Tue Dec 28, 2010 10:53 am

Yay sarobah story!

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by bound-black-girl lover » Tue Dec 28, 2010 4:03 pm

Usually, I just skim through the stories to get to the parts that interest me~However, with the DETAIL in your stories I won't skip a word for fear of missing something "delicious"!
This story did not let me down! Who could forget the images of: "...{H]er hands were bound behind her back with a couple of...brassieres joined together" [One of my "complaints"
is that "brassieres" (that sounds SO much more SEXY than "bra"!) are NEVER used in that way! It is only handcuffs, duct tape (UGH!) or ropes and to restrain a beautiful woman with
her "unmentionables" is sexually-charged!] Also, the "thrust(ing) the 'shaft' of the penis-gag between her jaws" was in one (1) word: "WOW!"
You're my FAVORITE "authoress" on this site!
If I can make a recommendation, see "daveys stories blogspot" (a U.K. guy) at http://daveysstories.blogspot.com/

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Tue Dec 28, 2010 5:05 pm

Thanks for the compliments.
I have a bad habit of not completing my stories. To keep me an honest woman, I shall post each segment as I write it, so some of the instalments may be a little on the short side.
Itâ€™s nice to have the time to write. What I said in paragraph 2 of part 2 is indeed my life at the present time.
xtc... Please explain?
~ Sarah
PS. The David's Stories blog... Oh great! Now I have something else to gobble up my time :o)
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by bound-black-girl lover » Tue Dec 28, 2010 6:18 pm

Dear Sarah:
Thank You for your quick reply!
Sorry, but I DON'T understand: "xtc...Please explain?"
--I'm ALSO an "early December" baby!
Last edited by bound-black-girl lover on Tue Dec 28, 2010 6:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Tue Dec 28, 2010 6:20 pm

XTC left a couple of messages I don't understand.
BTW,
My apologies for the somewhat misleading title, How I Learned to Stop Worrying...
I had just finished watching one of my favourite movies, Dr Strangelove.
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by bound-black-girl lover » Tue Dec 28, 2010 6:22 pm

No apologies needed!
I got the connection IMMEDIATELY!

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by xtc » Wed Dec 29, 2010 4:02 am

Sorry if it's confusing, perhaps it's the background I'm using but PART TWO:PRELUDE is blank on my screen after the title. The only way I can get to read the content is by highlighting it. All the rest is fine. Any ideas?
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Wed Dec 29, 2010 7:16 am

> xtc wrote:PART TWO:PRELUDE is blank on my screen after the title. The only way I can get to read the content is by highlighting it. All the rest is fine. Any ideas?

How strange. Well, I re-uploaded it.
Any better?
~ Sarah
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Wed Dec 29, 2010 7:40 am

Authorâ€™s notes:
In describing the events of the Long Long Weekend, I am trying to remain as faithful as I can to what actually happened. Any embellishment is due to faulty memory or â€“ more likely â€“ artistic licence.
I made a slight mathematical error in Part Two, which has been corrected in editing. My physics class would be pleased!
PART THREE: FRIDAY
The following day we were due to rendezvous at Jack and Sabrinaâ€™s house in the city, at four in the afternoon. I was the one responsible for the late start, since I had a final faculty meeting for the year to attend, and was to deliver a short presentation. I met Rob in the carpark as soon as I could get away. I changed out of my jeans and jacket during the journey, into a peasant blouse and skirt.
When we arrived, everyone else was waiting to go. Karen was in the front yard. She was in a check shirt and carefully frayed denim cut-offs, looking both tomboyish and feminine, as she does. She seemed nervous but was laughing and joking with Alex, who was standing close by as she paced in small circles. Theyâ€™d hit it off well the first time they met â€“ they have a similar sense of offbeat humour â€“ and Michelle appeared just a tad jealous. She was leaning on Jackâ€™s car, trying to act nonchalant but continually glancing across at the two happily chatting. She was almost unbearably cute in a little polka dot sundress, with knee socks and Mary-Janes, her hair done in pigtails with HUGE yellow bows. All she needed to complete the picture were painted-on freckles and a lollipop. Jack, Sabrina and Andrea came out of the house as we pulled into the driveway.
My brother was the youngest in the group, but in many ways he has the most forceful personality. I take some credit for that. After two decades of being bossed, bullied and berated by his Little Big Sis, he has developed a thick hide, a short fuse and an enormous ego. So naturally it was he who set the ball rolling with the first command decision of the weekend. We girls should be bound and blindfolded for the two-hour drive ahead. Karen was dubious about that and gave her newfound friend a funny look; but she appeared reconciled to her fate when the rest of us nodded our sanguine consent. However, I insisted that our hands be tied in front, for safety reasons â€“ rapid egress from the vehicle in the event of an accident. The males agreed that this was a sensible idea, even my brother after the requisite grumbles.
Alex volunteered to tie us all, using soft nylon cord he took from the boot of Jackâ€™s car. I looked inside â€“ that was an awfully big pile of ropes and other assorted paraphernalia. He ordered us to line up to be bound, but we ignored him. He shrugged off the minor rebuff and moved about, selecting us at random. He was characteristically meticulous, looping the rope around each girlâ€™s wrists four times before cinching it, and positioning the knot on the underside, to make it virtually impossible for us to free ourselves using our teeth. As this was happening, I kept an eye on Karen, but she just smiled, with a quick scan around the group for reassurance. She was the first to be blindfolded and gasped as Alex drew the dark cloth down over her eyes â€“ another typical response from a first-timer. The deprivation of sight represents the ultimate loss of control, the definitive surrender to the power of your captor. But she giggled as he tied it in place.
We were put into the two cars, Robâ€™s and Jackâ€™s. The males guided us into the back seat, and although we didnâ€™t speak, I could tell that I was positioned between Andrea and Karen. Our newbie was once again panting heavily, and she fidgeted for most of the trip. That became irritating after a while, but I figured she was breathless and twitchy from the thrill of this novel adventure, savouring her captivity, wondering what lay ahead. In fact, I felt rather envious, that she was experiencing these unfamiliar feelings and sensations which had long since become routine for me.
We werenâ€™t permitted to talk unless addressed by Rob, who was alone in the front. Heâ€™s not much of a conversationalist. We could have ignored the injunction, and Rob is not the sort of guy to enforce arbitrary rules once we were on the road. (Alex and Jack are a different matter, of course. For them, caprice and arbitrariness are part of the fun of being in control.) It was especially hard on Karen, of course, as she was not used to being deprived and disoriented for such a long period. On the couple of occasions that Rob did say something to us, she answered just a little too quickly and eagerly, but he just chuckled. Anyway, disobeying the command to stay silent would have been against the spirit of the game â€“ and whatâ€™s the use of rules if you ignore them whenever itâ€™s convenient? So we spent almost the entire journey in silence, listening for sounds that would tell us how far we had travelled and how far we had yet to go. Cut off from visual cues, and numbed by the tedium when there are no distractions, you quickly lose track of the passing time. But when I began to feel a chill on my arms and legs, I knew we must be nearing our destination, as the sun was beginning to set.
I should add that we could have spoken if weâ€™d wanted to. Rob is not the sort of guy to enforce such arbitrary rules once we were on the road. Alex and Jack are a different matter, of course. Nevertheless, we three prisoners kept silent as ordered, though at times it was difficult. Again, it was likely that Karen was having the hardest time, since she was not used to being deprived and disoriented for such long periods and hadnâ€™t mastered the trick of mentally drifting out of oneâ€™s bonds. On the couple of occasions that Rob said something to us, she answered just a little too quickly and eagerly, but he just chuckled. Now if it had been Alex or Jack... but I repeat myself.
We didnâ€™t encounter much traffic on the road, but I cringed and sank into the upholstery each time I heard the whoosh of a passing vehicle and wondered if our fellow road users could see inside our car. The sight of three young women blindfolded in the back seat would have raised some interesting speculation. Eventually, Rob let us know that â€œWeâ€™re almost there,â€ which was essentially redundant, since I could tell that from the enfeebled rays of the sinking sun on my face and bare shoulders. Still, it came as a great relief, since I was beginning to feel some bladder pressure. A sharp turn to the left and a sudden change from the dull rumble of bitumen under tyres to the crackling of gravel informed us that Sabrinaâ€™s house was just up ahead. We arrived before the other car, which seemed odd to me because I was sure that it had taken the lead. In any case, Rob helped us out and assisted us up onto the porch.
Jack, Alex, Sabrina and Michelle turned up just in time, as I had reached the stage of having to press my thighs together and I didnâ€™t fancy the prospect of squatting among the trees in the deepening gloom. We were let inside and allowed to take off our blindfolds. I asked permission to use the bathroom, and blessed relief came shortly thereafter. Karen wanted to go as well and was alarmed that her wrists were not untied; but before our long weekend was over she would realize that using the toilet with hands bound in front was one of the simpler tasks required of her.
As it was now after dark, the first order of business was to unpack. The place has only two bedrooms, so there were four bunk beds arranged in a queue along one wall of the narrow corridor. Alex naively asked why this was so, and a broad grin of understanding erupted even as the words came out.
Jack nevertheless said it. â€œWe can rotate couples between the bedrooms.â€
Andrea and Karen smiled at each other.
â€œYou too as well, if you like.â€
They blushed.
â€œNo... but thanks for the offer.â€
â€œSo what about some fun before dinner?â€ That was my Alex, of course.
We had reconvened in the living room and stared around at each other. A smile flickered on Michelleâ€™s face, a frown on Karenâ€™s, a grimace on Andreaâ€™s.
â€œWell,â€ Rob cut in before my brother could go on. â€œA couple of the girls have had to be at work today. So what about it Sabrina? Sarah?â€
â€œDinner first.â€ Sabrina looked across at me for confirmation.
Everyone nodded (or in Alexâ€™s case grunted) agreement, and a couple of us held out our bound wrists. Rob just grinned, Jack rolled his eyes, Alex shook his head vigorously. Sabrina laughed and spun around to head for the kitchen.
â€œCome on ladies,â€ she called back.
The men didnâ€™t follow. Once we were out of their range, Karen protested.
â€œThatâ€™s not how things work, dear,â€ Sabrina said in a soft, almost condescending voice. Sheâ€™s not normally like that, but I guess it was her way of breaking in the new girl. Still, as we set to our labours, Robâ€™s comment about whoâ€™d had to work that day did leave behind a small trace of irony. Sabrina spent a moment deciding the menu â€“ as she was the one who knew where everything was â€“ and then assigned us each places at the stove and benches. She kept Karen away from anything hot or sharp (since she was unfamiliar with working with hands tied) and kept me separated from anything to do with actual food preparation (since my culinary skills are registered as a biochemical warfare agent).
Sabrina was so adept at cooking with her wrists bound that it was obvious sheâ€™d had a good deal of practice. Karen enjoyed the novelty and started getting silly, which became rather annoying after a short while â€“ fortunately for all of us she got over it. Andrea glowered in silence the whole time. Like me, she has never been properly domesticated. I donâ€™t really comprehend the notion that having boobs and not having a penis somehow endows you with an affinity for food and fabric.
Halfway through, Alex came striding in, his face bearing an expression that I have learnt to read all too well. We ignored him for a moment, until he demanded our attention with a loud clearing of the throat. Thereupon, having played the game before, I reacted first, turning to face him, standing rigidly erect but with head bowed, feet placed together, bound hands positioned at waist height. Seeing my pose, the other girls adopted it as well, lining up on either side of me. Sabrina was the last to respond. She looked aggravated, leaving a pot of something bubbling on the hotplate, but said nothing.
I glanced up to see that our pre-emptive act had taken my brother by surprise; but he recovered quickly. He has been wary since childhood of having the Mickey Bliss taken. So I donâ€™t know what he had intended when he came into the kitchen, but he now ordered us to remove our clothing.
We humbly obeyed and meekly stripped... Like hell we did!
â€œJust... kidding,â€ he laughed, as we snarled at him in ill-tempered unison. His ever so slight hesitation between the words made me wonder.
Jack now wandered in, raising his eyebrows at seeing us lined up, and did a comical double-take when he spied the looks on our faces.
â€œWhatâ€™s going on, Alex?â€
â€œJust checking on the progress,â€ my brother lied. â€œNice work, ladies,â€ he said as he about-turned and marched out of the kitchen. I could swallow the patronizing tone, since it covered his tactical retreat; but I knew that our little moral victory would come at an eventual cost.
Jack smiled and left as well. We resumed our chores. Andrea gave Michelle and me a â€œYouâ€™ve got to be kiddingâ€ look. We both just shrugged it off.
The males actually pitched in to help set up the table and bring out the meal. But before I pay them too fine a compliment, I suspect that they were driven by pangs of hunger, not of guilt or compassion. And when everything was ready we just stood there looking at each other. So Jack took the initiative and ordered me to fetch the five discarded blindfolds. I found them on the living room sofa, and he placed them at intervals around the table. He then took his seat at the head and the other two guys got the message, sitting in the middle position on each side of the table. Jack instructed Sabrina to take the chair at the end opposite his.
â€œI want you to sit on your hands,â€ he told her. She placed them palms-down between her legs and pushed her fingers under her thighs. Because of the manner in which our wrists had been bound, to do this she had to bring her arms together in front of her, until her elbows almost touched.
â€œSit up properly!â€ he barked. She was hunched forward.
I didnâ€™t understand his interest in posture until she straightened her back. This squeezed her breasts between her upper arms, causing them to poke forward and nearly spill from her neckline. Jack smiled in satisfaction and Sabrina lifted her gaze to the heavens. Eye raising and rolling were to be a recurring theme that weekend.
Jack nodded to me and at the table in front of Sabrina. I took up the folded black material and pondered for a few seconds on how I was going to do this with my hands tied. I estimated the diameter of her head and tied a knot in what I judged to be the right place along the band. I pushed the cloth down across her forehead. I had very slightly miscalculated â€“ it was a bit too tight and she grunted as I forced it over her eyes. Some of her hair got caught. It was frustrating for me as well, because I could work on only one part at once. But the knot stretched just enough to allow the blindfold to eventually fit into place, and I felt Sabrina breathe a sigh of relief when it was done. I thought it was a good job, considering the difficulty, and was hoping the next girl would be as gentle with me.
This was Michelle, and she did in fact perform the task smoothly, learning no doubt from my own trial and error. I donâ€™t know who blindfolded Michelle, and etcetera. Once the five of us had been rendered sightless, we were guided to our seats. I was placed on Robâ€™s left. We were told to sit on our hands just like Sabrina, but I didnâ€™t think the three guys wanted to spend the entire meal feeding five helpless females. And indeed, after just a couple of minutes we were permitted to use our hands, though our wrists were still tied and we stayed blindfolded.
Since dining sans vue is one of my all-time favourite pleasures, I had a lovely time of it. Sabrina, who would radiate elegance while covered in green goo, remained ladylike throughout (from what I could tell and from what I didnâ€™t hear), but Andrea, Michelle and Karen were giggling like schoolgirls and carrying on like piglets in mud. Jack and Rob thought their behaviour was charming, but my brother held fast to his grouch persona.
â€œOh Alex, lighten up,â€ Michelle laughed. And even as she said it, I knew that she knew she would pay a price, because the llast word sorted of faded away.
Once we were finished, Karen and I were released from our bonds. As we began clearing the table, she flashed me a quizzical look. I told her nothing. She would find out soon enough. And needless to say, while we were in the kitchen washing up, we could hear squeals and laughter. There were loud thumping noises, which sounded like banging on the dining room table, and a rhythm of soft, heavy thuds, like someone jumping or hopping on the living room floorboards. I felt rather peeved that I was missing out on the fun; Karen less so. Yet by the time weâ€™d finished up and gone out to see what was happening, the guys were sprawled on the sofa and armchairs, and the three girls were on the floor.
To be continued...
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by Qarl » Thu Dec 30, 2010 1:44 am

I always love your stories Sarah! And I've missed see you here. Glad you've share this episode so far and I look forward to reading more.
Thanks for writing!

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by cellofello » Thu Dec 30, 2010 1:59 am

Sarobah, I appreciate your stories not only for the content, but also because they are so well written.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Thu Dec 30, 2010 3:58 am

Thanks. I wish I had time to write more. Of course, I wish I had time to play more, which would mean even more to write about...
Part Three: Friday - Continued
Sabrina was lying on her belly, squirming in â€“ of course â€“ a hog-tie. Her blindfold had been converted to a cleave-gag, to the back of which was attached a strap that connected with her trussed wrists and ankles. The tether was drawn so taut that her body was arched backwards at an angle that looked excruciating. To ease the stress on her head and neck, she had to maintain her position by pulling with her arms to hold her shoulders back, which must have been exhausting. She was gasping and groaning and trembling from the effort. However, I knew she was in no real distress. Jack is an expert with rope rigging and I could see that he had set the harness in such a fashion that it was taking ninety per cent of the strain, so the result was more discomfort than pain. And anyway, Sabrina is amongst other things a trained gymnast. But Karen, inexperienced in the way of the ropes, was goggle-eyed.
Crouched beside Sabrina and languidly watching her struggles, Michelle was tied in a lotus position, legs folded up against her chest, arms secured behind her in a box-tie. Her polka dot dress was laid out neatly beside her. I could see that she was braless but covered up by her posture. She was still wearing her knickers and her socks and shoes. The yellow hair ribbons were gone, and it took me a moment to realize they had been used to bind her wrists.
Andrea was lying on her side, blindfolded and ball-gagged, also in a hog-tie but nothing as stringent as Sabrinaâ€™s. However, she was wearing a crotch rope that looked very, very tight. Jack, sitting over her, was using the tip of his boot to toy with various parts of her, and whenever she flinched the movement was transmitted along that rope, causing her to moan softly. Karen knelt beside her to tenderly stroke her head, but Alex immediately called her over to him.
I meanwhile got down in front of Rob, turned away from him and placed my hands behind my back. There were no ropes immediately available, but Jack tossed him a couple from a bundle beside his seat. Rob tied my elbows, and I helped by pushing them as close together as I could without it hurting too much. He bound my wrists with the rest of the same length of cord. He then used a second piece which he looped around my torso, over and under my arms and above, below and around my breasts. There was a lot left over, so he ran it down my belly and between my legs and up behind me to my wrists. To secure it, he tugged hard â€“ really, really hard.
Alex was doing exactly the same to Karen, and we were ordered to hobble towards each other and meet in the centre of the room. We shuffled on our knees across the wooden floorboards. Our crotch-ropes were nestled deep in our crevices, front and back, and as with Andrea, each little movement brought a twinge of sensation. Iâ€™m sure Karen had never had anything like this done to her before. When we met in the middle, her eyes glimmered with that familiar but peculiar mix of pleasure, embarrassment and defiance.
Jack got up and circled the room a couple of times, no doubt pondering what to do next with us. He inserted and strapped in place large rubber penis gags. As well as the slippery, slimy texture of the plug, which I despise, I donâ€™t like its shape, though not for the same reason that caused Karen to balk the previous evening. I find it very uncomfortable because it doesnâ€™t fill your mouth but just sits on your tongue and points into your throat, and the saliva that starts to pool around it makes it very unpleasant. Ball-gags are also a nuisance to wear, especially if theyâ€™re not the exact right fit, but they look and feel so sexy (or at least I think so). Yet what I appreciate and what novices like Karen discover only from experience is that gags in TUGs are not about keeping the wearer quiet... at least not always and often far from it! Theyâ€™re symbols... and thereâ€™s no more potent symbol than the penis gag.
I think Jack intended to wrap us up in coils of rope just as we were, kneeling torso to torso, but he looked across at Sabrina and saw that she had reached the limit of her endurance. Since he had to get up early in the morning, he announced that it was â€œtime to call it quits.â€ He left us, released his lady love from her harness (but kept her bound hand and foot) and carried her off to the master bedroom.
Neither Rob nor Alex chose to take over. Instead, they got up and went off to the kitchen, leaving the remaining four of us tied up on the living room floor. A few minutes later, they returned with half a dozen mugs of steaming cocoa.
I was still in the mood for more fun and games, but everyone was tired and the guys decided â€“ it being their prerogative â€“ that weâ€™d all had enough for the night. So we were set free and enjoyed our supper of cocoa and cookies. We talked for about an hour. Alex and Rob allowed Michelle and myself onto the chairs only if we sat in their laps, which was fine by me. Andrea and Karen had to stay on the floor, which was also okay, since they were permitted to lounge on the fleecy rug. Karen was, as usual, bemused by these little rituals of dominance and submission. It was not exactly what sheâ€™d anticipated when she was invited to a weekend of tie-up games. But she wasnâ€™t complaining; indeed, she was curious to know what was to come.
Michelle had not put her dress back on when she was released from her ropes, but she was quite shy about her bare boobs and kept them covered with one arm across her chest. Andrea, meanwhile, was unnaturally quiet, almost pensive. I could tell from her expression what she was thinking. Although she plays the submissive role as well as any of us, she normally gets her buzz from the half-time switch to dominant. Without that release valve, the sensations and emotions were going to build up, and she would be needing some down-time to keep everything together. I made a mental note to bring this to the attention of Rob and Alex, in case they hadnâ€™t picked up on it.
It was closing in on midnight when we finally retired. Rob and I were allocated the second bedroom. That was only fair since Alex and Michelle would have the bedroom privileges for the next two nights while the other boys were away. Still, my brother was ambivalent. He liked the idea of sharing the hallway with three girls, though not so much the separate beds.
Rob and I were too fatigued for bedtime games, although the noises coming from the adjacent room indicated that another couple would not be getting a lot of sleep that night.
To be continued...
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by xtc » Thu Dec 30, 2010 4:44 am

> sarobah wrote:

> > xtc wrote:PART TWO:PRELUDE is blank on my screen after the title. The only way I can get to read the content is by highlighting it. All the rest is fine. Any ideas?

> How strange. Well, I re-uploaded it.
> Any better?
> ~ Sarah

Thanks,Sarobah, I can now read it without having to resort to subtefuge! Surely I can't be the ONLY person to whom this happenend?
Wassail!
Xtc
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by GentleDom » Sat Jan 01, 2011 6:47 am

Excellent to see you writing again Sarobah, i have missed your stories. I do apologize for my lack in correspondence, it has been one hectic adventure into another, sadly with TUGs games few and far in between, but hopefully they will resume with my new female companion. I do hope to hear more of your stories again Thank you *bows*
I am one with the rope! I am the politest Dom, I always ask whats your limit, and if your willing,
If you would like to break them ^.^ *bows* A Gentle Dom, one who still can do it quite well ;D
at your service, and you will be at mine ^.^

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Sat Jan 01, 2011 4:32 pm

My apologies that these instalments are periodic and fragmentary. Iâ€™m writing and posting them when I can, but itâ€™s a struggle. Yesterday, for instance, I had put aside a few hours to get over the New Year blahs and get in some writing, when Jack and Sabrina (from the story, of course) came over. I ended up, as the expression goes, all tied up. Anyway, hereâ€™s another chapter. Itâ€™s not the most exciting adventure, but I have tried to stay true to the actual events of the weekend.
PART FOUR: SATURDAY
My eyes opened just as the first sallow rays of dawn percolated into the room through the half-open blinds. As I lay watching a cheery beam of goldening light creep down the wall towards the foot of the bed, I studied the inert form beside me. Rob was not going to wake any time soon, so I hauled myself to my feet and dragged myself to the window.
Sabrinaâ€™s house is nestled in a broad, shallow valley amidst a series of rolling, thick-forested hills. There is a notch on the eastern skyline where two ridges intersect, and it was at this very point that the sun was rising, making it seem later in the day than it really was. I glanced at the clock. It was not long after five. Deciding not to rouse my sleeping guy, I pulled on one of his t-shirts and a pair of my knickers and tiptoed out into the corridor. Alex and the three girls were still deep in slumber, but from the end of the hallway I could hear soft sounds and smell faint aromas.
In the kitchen, Jack was already dressed, ready for a quick getaway, and drinking his coffee. Sabrina was buttering his toast. She wore a white satin camisole but was naked below the waist. Her panties were slung over the utensil rack like a hunting trophy. I didnâ€™t ask, but when she saw me she took them down and put them on. Jack proffered a cup of hot brew and I accepted his offering with a caffeine-deprived gasp of gratitude.
Even by the time that Jack had finished his breakfast, no one in the house had stirred. I gave him and Sabrina some private time for good-byes and headed to the bathroom. When I returned to the kitchen, he was gone but now Rob was there, sipping coffee and munching toast. We had a cuddle and a kiss. I tasted marmalade on his lips. I hate marmalade.
â€œYou two want to be alone in here?â€
Considering the state in which Iâ€™d found her, I thought that was rather hypocritical of Sabrina, but I chose not to pursue the issue. In any case, I wasnâ€™t yet up to her speed. She is one of those early morning risers who is unaccountably, relentlessly, unbearably chirpy when everyone else is still groggy and grumbly. I expected her to at any moment go storming up the hall shouting â€œWake up, sleepyheads!â€ Fortunately, decency and dignity prevailed. On their own, first Andrea, then Michelle, and sometime after that Karen came staggering bleary-eyed into the kitchen.
â€œHis Lordship still asleep?â€ Sabrina asked.
â€œHaving one of his dreams, you know the kind,â€ Michelle explained.
I didnâ€™t want to know how she found that out.
With the galley now filled with females, Rob decided to beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. Sabrina took charge as usual and decided unilaterally that we would not be having a formal, sit-down breakfast. Each of us could look after his or herself. That suited me fine, since a sole cup of coffee is my standard morning fare. Actually, that lick of marmalade was the closest Iâ€™ve had to a morning meal in ages. It didnâ€™t convert me.
It was around seven oâ€™clock when my brother finally joined us. Jack had been gone at least an hour and would not be back until Monday morning. Rob would also be leaving us before the day was out, but had resolved to put off his departure as long as possible. So as Alex ate his breakfast â€“ dutifully prepared by Michelle, I must say â€“ we collected on the back veranda to work out the dayâ€™s schedule. We reminded ourselves that the official objective of the weekend was house renovation. We came up with a prioritized to-do list, taking into account that the weather forecast was inauspicious and clouds were already starting to gather. So with that settled on, we went to get ready.
I kept on Robâ€™s t-shirt because it makes a comfy, modest and functional dress for working in (heâ€™s a head taller than me), but replaced my undies with a pair of bikini pants. When we reconvened on the veranda, Sabrina was her normal impeccable self in an awesomely cute strapless playsuit. We all matched our personalities. Michelle had chosen for yardwork a wildly impractical baby-doll style floral sundress. Karen was wearing a camo-pattern tank top and khaki cargo shorts, Andrea a halter-neck crop top and bleached denim mini. Rob and Alex were in grease-begrimed, paint-spattered overalls. Males have an irritating habit of dressing sensibly for manual labour.
This morning the women would be clearing detritus from in and around two dilapidated equipment sheds adjacent to the house, which used to be a farmstead, while the men were to do some painting and repairing. This was a bigger assignment than it sounds â€“ the place had been terribly neglected by its previous owners. Sabrina issued us each with heavy duty gloves and goggles, and then we stood about for a minute, somewhat indecisively.
It was, naturally, Alex who made the move. â€œWait here,â€ he called out as he disappeared inside the house.
He returned with a dozen coils of rope.
â€œLetâ€™s not make it all work and no play,â€ he explained.
I smiled. With my Lil Bro here to keep us on track, that was not likely. But I glanced at Sabrina to see if she approved. She remained impassive, which for her construes consent.
Alex, and then Rob also, began joining four of the ropes, tying five big loops at intervals of about one metre. I assumed these were for our wrists and was wondering how we were supposed to work efficiently with our hands bound. However, my brother advanced on me and before I could react he had slipped the first loop in the line over my head. He had expertly fashioned it so that when he tightened it, the slider part did not constrict around my throat like a noose but remained slack, to make a yoke, though not so loose that I could pull it off. I probed the knot with my fingers and couldnâ€™t work out how it was fixed in position â€“ I was in no danger of choking but there was no way I could get free of it on my own.
Rob was holding up the far end loop and Sabrina, upon seeing the aghast faces of the other girls, stepped up and was put into her yoke. Then Alex moved behind Michelle and seized her arms, wrenching them rather harshly behind her back while Rob secured her in place next to me. Andrea and Karen didnâ€™t resist â€“ the former looked somewhat shocked, the latter amused. We tested our tethers, moving apart, tilting and bobbing to see how much leeway we had.
However, the guys werenâ€™t finished with us. There was still plenty of unused rope. Alex used one to bind my knees, making a hobble. In it, I could take only small, mincing steps. He repeated this down the line while Rob went back into the house.
My loving boyfriend emerged with five ball-gags dangling from their straps in one outstretched hand.
â€œOh, you canâ€™t be serious,â€ Andrea whimpered.
Without responding, Rob handed us each one, and we put them in. I was having trouble buckling mine into place, so Brother Dearest gave me a helping hand.
And thus yoked, tethered, hobbled and gagged, we set to work. By now the sun was in hiding behind a thick layer of slate grey cloud, so it was unseasonably cool. But I and the other girls were soon puffing and sweating from the exertion. Leashed together, we had to work hard to stay in harmony, coordinating our movements in a seamless cadence. After a while you get your rhythm, but it was tiring, and every so often someone would forget we were linked and bend forward or lean backwards or shift sideways, tugging on our connecting rope and sending a chorus of stifled grunts and groans down the line. Still, the enforced teamwork created something of a bond between us â€“ and I donâ€™t mean that as a pun. It also staved off the dreariness of what was a pretty tedious job, at least for a while.
Eventually, though, ennui began to set in, and it was frustrating not being able to relieve the boredom by talking to each other. The boys made the situation worse by taunting us, keeping up a loud conversation, laughing and teasing us and every so often making jokes and comments intended to offend. Sabrina and Michelle ignored them, while Andrea and I puffed and snorted powerless indignation through our gags. Karen just shook her head and rolled her eyes and waggled her jaws around the big red ball.
Of course, the funniest thing was that Sabrina was still in overall charge of operations, and we girls had to communicate with hand signals. Whenever the guys needed to consult Sabrina for guidance, they would try to provoke her by pretending to misunderstand her directions â€“ or rather gesticulations â€“ but she remained her customary unflappable. And as a warning of what would happen if we got too flustered, at one point Alex did or said something to upset Andrea, and she in pure reflex launched into a stream of invective. Which of course came out as a foamy lather of saliva bubbling from the edges of her gag, leaving her crimson-faced and thereafter suffering in humbled silence.
We laboured steadily for two or three hours, working our way around the sheds and devising ways of synchronizing our tasks, which became more difficult as the morning progressed. But when Alex and Rob stopped for a break and sat on the edge of the veranda with cold drinks in hand to watch us toil, weâ€™d had enough.
â€œWhy have you stopped?â€ Alex called out.
A couple of us imitated drinking motions with our hands and pointed to our gags. I have a feeling that my brother was about to yell â€œBack to work!â€ when Rob intervened.
â€œOf course,â€™ he said.
We hobbled in our single, tethered file back to the house and into the kitchen. It was a relief to remove the ball from my mouth. My jaws had begun to ache; but worse, perspiration trickling down my cheeks and soaking up grime along the way, had seeped into the corners of my mouth, mixing with the saliva to produce a gritty drool that dribbled back out again, dripping onto my boobs and belly. It felt horrible and looked pretty awful as well. After weâ€™d had our drink, we replaced our gags, but at least we got to wipe them clean.
On the way out, we halted and Sabrina addressed the guys with more sign language. They got the message and took off our tethers and hobbles. They werenâ€™t being considerate. We needed to be more spread out than the ropes allowed to complete the job. And then it was back to work for another couple of hours. Finally, sometime around midday, we stopped, stretched and flung up our arms in triumph. Mission accomplished.
â€œWell done, girls,â€ Alex proclaimed with his characteristic condescension. â€œYou deserve your reward.â€
â€œUh, oh!â€ exclaimed Karen, as she peeled the sodden rubber orb from between her jaws. Our newbie was a fast learner.
Alex and Rob sent Sabrina and me inside to prepare lunch. I donâ€™t know why they chose me, but from the kitchen we could hear commotion outside. Damn! This was the second time Iâ€™d missed out on the fun. I was starting to feel persecuted. By the time we emerged with a plateful of sandwiches and a jug of fruit juice, Michelle, Andrea and Karen were standing up against the corner posts of the veranda. Two were lashed to the one on the left; Andreaâ€™s hands were bound behind her back and she was secured to the post with cords around her neck, waist and ankles. Karen was on the other side of the upright, her wrists bound over her head. Her shirt had been pulled up and her shorts pulled down (but she was wearing undies). Her chest was still heaving and her belly still in spasm from what looked to have been a malicious bout of tickle torture.
Michelle was in more desperate straits. She had been tied to the right-hand post in a strappado â€“ with feet still on the ground to support her weight and thus not terribly stressful, but not exactly the lap of luxury either. Her clothing was askew, her hair in disarray; she was panting and sweating and cursing through clenched teeth. Seeing her like that I was a little concerned, but when Alex lifted the back of her dress and flicked her on the bottom with a piece of rope, she swore at him and then laughed.
Diverted from their game by the arrival of lunch, the boys went inside to wash up. While they were gone, Sabrina and I didnâ€™t dare untie the three girls, so we fed them each a sandwich and helped them with their juice. I had to tilt poor Michelleâ€™s head rather forcefully sidewards, and even then most of her drink spilled.
As we finished, my brother returned and ordered Sabrina to join Michelle. With a sigh of resignation she did so, standing one pace out from the post with her hands behind her. Nonchalantly chewing on a sandwich, Alex strolled over clutching some rope, and placed a hand on the back of her neck until she leaned forward. He bound her wrists and ran the rope up to a hook screwed into the wood about two metres up. When he hauled on it, dragging her arms up behind her until her body was bent double, she let out an anguished â€œOooh!â€ It looked severe, but as with Michelle, it was not so much painful as disconcerting and humiliating.
I was beginning to wonder what was in store for me, but once again I got kitchen duty. I guess that was my torture, seeing the other girls have all the fun. And by the time I got out of the house again, everyone was back to work. As either reward or punishment â€“ itâ€™s hard to tell when youâ€™re in TUGs mode â€“ we girls were unencumbered by ropes or gags. It made the work more efficient, which left us more time afterwards for play. But the result was that there is nothing of interest to report about the next few hours of our Long Long Weekend... unless one has an uncommon fascination for landscaping.
Since Rob had to leave before well before sundown, we quit around five oâ€™clock. Being the type of person who dislikes any sort of fuss or fanfare, he intended to slip away quietly. However, my brother is exactly the opposite, so while Rob was inside fetching his gear, Alex arranged us girls in an impromptu guard of honour. He bound our wrists in front using plastic cable ties as flexicuffs. He had us kneel alongside the driveway with our arms raised over our heads, and Rob sheepishly acknowledged our tribute as he walked to the car.
It was just a silly little ritual, but the significance lay in the repercussions it might have had for the next thirty-six hours. As we got down on our knees, Alex proposed that we bare our breasts in homage. Immediately he saw our expressions, he fell back into â€œJust kiddingâ€ mode, but I am in no doubt that he realized just how close heâ€™d sailed to the edge of his world on that one. The prospect of being trapped overnight in an isolated country homestead with five provoked and implacable females was not for him a happy one.
In fact, I shall jump ahead a couple of hours here. Perhaps because of that close call, my brother decided he needed an ally in the house. Being in command of five ready and willing damsels in distress is (Iâ€™m sure) most young menâ€™s fantasy, but it can also be very, very tricky. So at the dinner table he made an offer to Andrea to join his â€œteamâ€. It was a smart move, because she enjoys being on either end of the ropes and is just as happy to tie up girls as boys. Nevertheless, before she could make a reply, he undercut his own position â€“ in fact, Iâ€™m now convinced it was deliberate self-sabotage. He informed Andrea that since the theme of the weekendâ€™s entertainment was guy-on-girl, she would need to be declared an â€œhonorary maleâ€ â€“ a price she was not willing to pay. Andrea told him where to go and what to do with his [expletive deleted], and reaffirmed her eternal loyalty and fidelity to Team Chromosome XX. We cheered her, as if she, and we by proxy, had scored a great victory. My brother just sat there with his inscrutable smile.
To be continued...
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by thegrim » Sat Jan 01, 2011 9:59 pm

Amazing as always Sarah! I really like the parts about Karen and seeing the novice hitting the ground running with TUGs. Excellent story, description, depth...blah blah blah, and can't wait to hear more!
drunk girl- I want to be your slave!
me- The hell did you just say?

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Mon Jan 03, 2011 8:37 pm

I should let the story speak for itself, but at the risk of overanalysing (which I am wont to do), I wish to comment on two aspects. The first is what I have called the â€œinverse power dynamicâ€ within our group, particularly how it became amplified once both Rob and Jack had departed. Left alone with five women, all strong-willed and no-nonsense, my brother was the solitary male, the youngest person in the household and in many ways the most immature (a label which, I hasten to add, he wears with characteristically perverse pride). And yet under the terms of our guy-on-girl TUGs, he was the one in total control. As far as it is possible to have a philosophy of TUGs, this level of interaction would form the basis of mine.
The second issue was the initiation of Karen, on whom I have focused quite a bit of attention. It was almost as much fun as the games themselves to see her responses and watch her reactions. Unlike most of us who have a long history of bondage, she really was thrown in at the deep end.
Part Four: Saturday, Continued
Once Robâ€™s car had disappeared over the crest of the hill, the group dynamic underwent a rather profound shift. As we filed into the house, Alex held back. When I didnâ€™t hear the door shut, I turned to see what was keeping him. He was standing in the doorway, framed in silhouette against the dusty red haze of the late afternoon sky. He was either riveted on the spot deep in thought or transfixed watching usâ€¦ probably both.
Sabrina was already on her way to the bathroom. She had volunteered to cook dinner alone, but she wasnâ€™t being generous or politeâ€¦ okay, maybe polite. Last nightâ€™s rather chaotic effort had proved the old adage about too many hands (albeit in our case bound with nylon cord). Then again, perhaps she had an ulterior motive. The water heating system was not set up to cope with six soiled, sweaty bodies, so maybe her putative altruism was nothing more than a pre-emptive strike. But Iâ€™m probably being uncharitable. On the other hand, my ever helpful brother offered his version of a solution: â€œConserve water â€“ bathe with a friend.â€ Naturally he put himself forward to arrange the pairs and supervise the proceedings. We all declined, some more forcefully than others.
Instead we resorted to the time-honoured expedient of the coin toss to decide order of precedence, since last in was most likely destined for a cold shower. I was thinking that should be Alex, but as it turned out â€“ pure chance â€“ he drew first place in the queue after Sabrina. While he was gone, the rest of us relaxed on the front porch to admire the sunset, our offers to help out in the kitchen graciously rebuffed.
Alex came out, said â€œNextâ€ and then withdrew into the house. Karen followed him inside. Andrea, Michelle and I maintained our vigil outside. It was a glorious evening. As the crickets took up their evening chorus and somewhere a frog croaked its plaintive mating call, a flock of chattering rainbow lorikeets soared overhead, circled the house and swooped towards the dusty gold western horizon. Sabrina brought out a jug of iced tea. Again, she wasnâ€™t being (merely) a good hostessâ€¦ it was a clear message to keep out of the galley and out of her way. I certainly wasnâ€™t going to argue.
Time passed, and Alexâ€™s head poked out once more. â€œNext,â€ he said. I finished my drink and went inside. To get to the bathroom you pass by the living room. There, Karen was kneeling on the rug in the middle of the floor, arms behind her back, with my brother now squatting behind her. Her just washed hair was uncombed, spiky and still dripping wet; she was wearing coral pink boxer shorts and a peppermint tank top that had been pulled down off her shoulders; and her eyes were covered with one of the black satin blindfolds. Alex was methodically looping nylon rope around her elbows and explaining to her, in a straightforward, matter-of-fact manner, how she was to be tied up. She heard me going by and smiled, and I smiled as well, amazed at how far our little novitiate had come since Thursday night.
Strictly mindful of the hot water rationing, I revelled in my four-minute washing away of the dayâ€™s accumulated sweat and grime. And thereafter feeling well-scrubbed, refreshed and renewed, I put on my halter-cami top and candy-stripe capri pants. As I emerged into the living room, I prepared myself, flexing my torso and loosening my limbs. The hours of exertion had left us all somewhat stiff and sore, and I suppose if I had the choice I would have settled for a quiet evening in front of the TV set. But that wasnâ€™t what we were here for, was it?
Karen was prostrate on the floorboards, blindfolded and gagged, and hog-tied in a complex pattern â€“ left wrist to right ankle and vice versa, but with knees and elbows also tightly bound, which put a great deal of strain on her arms and especially shoulders. Her head was not turned to one side; she was facing straight ahead, which I know from experience is very stressful on the neck. I admired her for maintaining it, no doubt on Alexâ€™s command. He was crouched next to her, gently stroking her head and back and whispering into her ear what I first (naively) assumed were words of comfort or reassurance. Suddenly she made a spittly strangling noise through her gag and rolled onto her right side to lash out at him, feebly, with her bound hands and feet.
â€œWhat did you say?â€ I demanded.
Alex looked up and saw me for the first time. He grinned, gazed past me towards the front door, and yelled â€œNext!â€
He stood up and brushed the creases out of his trousers. He pointed to a patch of bare floor between the rug and Karen. Knowing the attention had shifted from her, she allowed her tensed body to slump into as relaxed a position as she was likely to enjoy for a while.
â€œWell, get on with it,â€ I grumbled, as my brother rummaged through the corner pile or ropes and paraphernalia. I didnâ€™t mind the game, but I was getting hungry and I didnâ€™t want it to intrude into dinner time. â€œWhatâ€™s it to be?â€
â€œSame as Karen, I think.â€ Karen squirmed a little when she heard her name. â€œAssume the position.â€
As I lay belly down on the wooden boards and put my hands behind me, I saw Andreaâ€™s legs go by, on the way to the bathroom. She didnâ€™t say anything.
After blindfolding me, Alex trussed my elbows, using a switchback knot for subsequent adjusting. I know because for some reason he kept up a running commentary on the progress of my binding, just as heâ€™d done with Karen. Maybe it was for her benefit, to let her know that her treatment was everyoneâ€™s. He then fashioned an elaborate X-shaped harness consisting of four little nooses, which he put on my wrists and ankles, so that when he drew in the slack, my hands and feet were brought together, crossed over my backside. He could then tighten my elbow rope and apply a cinch to secure it, leaving me completely immobile and helpless. The strain on my arms, shoulders and chest was excruciating, but oddly enough invigorating and therapeutic â€“ I guess it stretched the kinks out of my cramped and aching muscles and sinews. I was still savouring the unexpected relief when I felt the familiar glossy matte finish of the latex ball against my lips. I quickly moistened the insides of my mouth before opening my jaws to accept my gag.
Alex had just finished on me when Andrea returned. He called to Michelle that the bathroom was hers while Andrea joined Karen and me on the living room floor. I was wondering if she would be as compliant as we had been â€“ remember, this was before the dinner table offer from my brother. He said something I couldnâ€™t make out and she laughed. I heard a shuffling noise and felt Andreaâ€™s body cosy up close to mine. We were running out of space on the floor, to accommodate our prone figures and for Alex to do his work, between the sofa on one side and the armchairs on the other â€“ it wasnâ€™t a very large room.
Andrea decided that she would not passively surrender to the ropes. She didnâ€™t resist with all her will, but she wriggled and twisted, her legs thrashed about and her arms flailed around until she was subdued. All she really achieved was to make things difficult for me, as I was bumped and jostled in the mÃªlÃ©e. It didnâ€™t help that the polished floorboards were uncomfortably hard beneath me, the strictness of my hog-tie making it virtually impossible to alter my position even a little bit. I was becoming quite piqued and peeved by the time Alex had wrestled his captive into submission. But I shouldnâ€™t complain or condemn. Such is Andreaâ€™s way, to go down hard like that.
This was when Michelle came out from the bathroom, griping about the frigid water. I could tell from the tempo of her movements that she hesitated when she saw the three of us on the floor, and that Alex sprang to his feet to intercept her before she attempted a getaway. Then came the requisite giggling and squealing as they struggled, followed by a loud thump and a surprised â€œOof!â€
Michelle had prevailed, and I listened for the tumult of a pursuit through the house. Instead I heard scuffing noises as the girl, having made her point, went down on her knees and then onto her stomach. Alex, his pride wounded â€“ I can always tell when heâ€™s flustered from how his breathing changes â€“ immediately got his revenge. Michelle gasped a couple of times, then emitted a series of short, soft grunts. I was wondering what my brother was up to, until I recognized the sound of rope swishing in the air and flicking on skin, and realized he was tying her into an elaborate rig of some kind.
I donâ€™t know how much time passed, but probably not a lot because my hair was still damp from my shower. Sabrina came into the room to announce that dinner was ready, and Alex recruited her to help untie us. Karen, who had been bound the longest and was also the least experienced, just lay on the floor awhile, looking stunned but pleased with herself. That â€“ the feeling of self-satisfaction â€“ is something novices usually take a while to comprehend, to appreciate that it requires strength of will and toughness of body to submit the way she had, and to understand that tie-up games are fun on both ends of the rope, even if any actual suffering is one-sided.
As we sat massaging our wrists and ankles, stretching our limbs and flexing our torsos, we looked across in sympathy at poor Michelle, who was still encased in nylon cord. She was in just her bra and knickers; the rest of her clothes were lying discarded in a forlorn heap in the doorway. She was face-up, her arms and legs pinioned underneath her so her body was arched upwards. Rope was looped tightly around her breasts and waist and tied to her ankles to hold her firmly in her pose, while another rope, very taut, ran all the way down her front from a yoke about her neck, between her legs and up her back to the starting point. Michelle was slowly raising and lowering her body, quietly moaning and gently puffing. When she eased the stress on her torso, by raising or lowering or shifting sideways, the crotch-rope tightened. Now that doesnâ€™t seem like much of a dilemma, trading pain for pleasure. But when your private parts are stuck up in the air like that and theyâ€™re being stimulated, and you have an audience... well, letâ€™s just say that my Lil Bro is diabolical.
Alex released Michelle and we had dinner.
To be continued...
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:19 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by bound-black-girl lover » Tue Jan 04, 2011 5:32 am

Dear Sarobah:
A "uniform bondage drawings" site by Davey from the U.K.:
http://damselsindistressdrawings.blogspot.com/

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Wed Jan 05, 2011 4:10 pm

Re the uniform bondage drawings: Very nice. I wish I had that sort of artistic talent.
Thereâ€™s something about the uniform-bound genre that speaks to the inverse power dynamic Iâ€™ve mentioned.
Part Four: Saturday, Continued
When Andrea turned down my brotherâ€™s offer to switch sides (of the ropes), I could see in his face that he was ambivalent about her decision. Even with Jack and Rob gone, the TUGs were not going to stop; but that left the sole remaining male in an uncertain, isolated position. On the one hand, he felt he needed an ally in the house, just in case his damsels got it into their minds that some table turning was in order. On the other hand, heâ€™s never been one to share his treats, and the prospect of having all five girls in his power was worth the risk that it might not end well for him. Thatâ€™s why, I believe, he made sure Andrea would reject his proposal. It also reduced the chances of her turning on him, since it had been her choice. (Is my brother really that Machiavellian? You bet.)
Apart from that exchange, we had a normal dinner â€“ delicious cheese and spinach pastry rolls, sinful homemade gourmet pizza, orgasmic strawberry cream pie. It was probably just as well there wasnâ€™t a fourth course â€“ who knows where it might have led? So besides being gorgeous, brainy, sophisticated and successful, Sabrina is also a first-rate chef. (Donâ€™t you just hate her?)
At the end, to everyoneâ€™s astonishment Alex volunteered to clear the table and wash up while â€œyou ladies get comfortableâ€ in the living room. Naturally, we all said â€œNo, no, no, we can do it,â€ and my brother reclined in lordly splendour in his seat at the head of the table, trying to suppress his smug expression, to watch his ladies work. (Did I mention heâ€™s Machiavellian? Iâ€™m sure I did.)
By the time weâ€™d finished up, Alex was no longer sitting at the table. We found him, as expected, perched haughtily upon his throne in the living room. Alongside him on the sofa were five neat stacks â€“ of rope, gags, blindfolds; and next to the couch was a large cardboard carton labelled, with portentous innocence, TOY BOX.
I did my best to act nonchalant. Michelle sort of clucked and slowly shook her head. Karen failed to smother a nervous giggle and Andrea didnâ€™t even bother to swallow a disdainful snarl. Sabrina tried to be perky, suggesting â€œLetâ€™s play a game,â€ but my brother cut her off with a curt and rather cruel dismissal.
â€œWho rules?â€ he demanded. Or maybe it was â€œWhose rules?â€ It could have been either because some of us replied â€œYouâ€ and others â€œYours.â€ (Or maybe that was â€œUp yours.â€) It didnâ€™t really matter, because the end result was the same.
Michelle said, at last, â€œWhat do you want us to do?â€
Alex handed out the blindfolds and we started to put them on.
â€œNo, each other.â€
We formed a little circle. Michelle secured mine while I did Sabrinaâ€™s, etcetera. That in itself was an experience. The blindfold has always been my favourite element of bondage because it is so arousing. It stimulates and refines your remaining senses so you feel everything more intensely; it also heightens your anticipation and awareness as well as your sensitivity because you donâ€™t know whatâ€™s coming. This was even more sensual, because in order to tie your partnerâ€™s in place while youâ€™re being blindfolded, you have to use touch, feeling the edges of the fabric, running your fingers lightly over her nose and cheeks and brow, while the same is being done to you. I was feeling tingly as Alex began quietly issuing his commands.
â€œForm yourselves in a line... alternating, facing me, facing away, yeah like that... closer together, hold your hands out to your side until... thatâ€™s it... now, on your knees... Karen, push that rug out of the way, you donâ€™t need to kneel on it... now, hands behind your head... fingers interlocked... good girls.â€
We did as we were told and no one spoke. I heard Andreaâ€™s little gust of under-the-breath protest at the â€œgood girls.â€ Itâ€™s funny what people find offensive.
This was Alexâ€™s most perilous moment. He had us in submission, but the worm could still turn. I think thatâ€™s why he balked at Sabrinaâ€™s suggestion of a game â€“ they have a way of not developing the way you expect. Outnumbered five to one, he had to establish his dominance, quickly, decisively, completely. So thatâ€™s what this little drill was all about. Though psychology is not my strong suit, I realized instantly that he was getting us into the routine of obeying him. And in doing so, he was also taking us outside our comfort zone â€“ like making us kneel on the hard floorboards. The result is that you are subsumed into the bondage before you can respond in any way but compliance. You donâ€™t want stop the game because itâ€™s only just begun, but youâ€™re already in so deep that you feel compelled to go on, to see what will happen and how it will end.
I was first. I heard the sofa squeak and felt fingers on the back of my neck, brushing aside strands of hair, then the abhorrently familiar shape of a penis-gag shaft probing my lips. Involuntarily I clenched my teeth â€“ it really was a reflex that I couldnâ€™t control â€“ but I kept my hands clasped behind my head. My brother was patient, and after a few seconds I relaxed and surrendered, parting my jaws to accept into my mouth the horrid protuberance. To punish me for my fleeting resistance, Alex was gratuitously rough in buckling it in place. I squirmed.
â€œDonâ€™t be such a baby,â€ he said.
â€œThatâ€™s easy for you to say...â€ I replied, and as I heard the incoherent burble of words that dribbled out past my gag, I had to smile (as much as I could) at the irony.
Karen was next, a few minutes later. I knew it was her from the gulping whimper of amused embarrassment. It was almost half an hour before we were all gagged. Iâ€™m sure Alex deliberately dragged out the process. The torment of tedium, suspense and aching knees was becoming almost unbearable. So it came as a relief when, finally, there was more scuffling and shuffling. Sometime later I felt hands seize my wrists. Alex pulled my arms down behind my back to bind my elbows. He made it slack at first, but after he had tied my wrists, he tightened the elbow bindings as far as they would go. This put enormous stress on my shoulders and chest but didnâ€™t really hurt. Alex knows what heâ€™s doing (because in his youth he had the best kind of tutor, one he could practise on) and had wrapped the cord in half a dozen loops, with a larkâ€™s head fold, around my upper arms to spread the pressure; and he tied my hands with wrists crossed rather than palm to palm, which eases the strain from unendurable to barely tolerable.
Alex laughed at something and immediately ordered us down onto our bellies. That is difficult to do when your arms are pinioned behind you. Karen in particular hit the wooden boards with a thump and an â€œOh!â€ Because we were close together, it was impossible to roll sideways using one shoulder for support and leverage. I should add that itâ€™s harder on girls than guys â€“ with your arms pinned back, your breasts stick out and are made firm by the tension on your torso (and of course by the inevitable arousal), so they hit the floor with a sharp thud that forces your breath out of your lungs in bubbly, rasping puffs. Itâ€™s more shock and indignation than pain, but it must be entertaining to watch, because my dear brother was chuckling.
The next stage of the game was ankle binding, and again Alex took his time. It was a simple crossed ankles position, and after that I knew what was coming â€“ everyoneâ€™s perennial favourite, the hog-tie. Weâ€™d been at this for at least one and a half hours by now. This was turning into one of my longest duration tie-ups. I donâ€™t mean the longest Iâ€™ve been tied up, I mean the longest itâ€™s taken to get tied up. And it wasnâ€™t just that Alex had five of us to work on; he was deliberately stretching it out. He was really enjoying himself; but I have to say that the pleasure wasnâ€™t all his. I love having the time to settle into my bonds and to savour each step in the process. I guess itâ€™s like eating a box of chocolates â€“ you can gorge on them all in a single sitting or you can delay or at least extend the gratification. Alex was skilled enough (and again I take mentoring credit) to get the balance exactly right, making the experience intense enough that we could never relax and get too comfortable or complacent, but not so severe as to risk burn-out. (I had better end this praise. I know my brother reads my writings, and his head is as big â€“ metaphorically speaking â€“ as any mortal manâ€™s should be.)
After he had put us all in our hog-ties, Alex decided that the indignity wasnâ€™t enough. He turned me onto my right side, and Andrea who was next to me onto her right side, but moved in a bit so that, because we were aligned in opposite directions, we were lying face to crotch. He thought that was very amusing. Michelle was the odd one out in this little tableau of humiliation, and for the next half hour or so we listened to her alternatively giggling, moaning and cursing through her gag, as he did unspeakable things to her.
When he finally tired of whatever he was inflicting on Michelle, Alex subjected us each in turn to a prolonged bout of all-over tickle torture. I was left till last, and the greatest agony was to lie there helpless, hearing each victim in her turn squealing and thrashing about and hysterically pleading (as much as she could) for mercy, awaiting my turn and knowing there was no escape. Yet I probably got off the lightest. Being his sister, I had some parts that he felt obliged to leave untouched. I know this because when he started on poor Andrea... well, given how we were lying in relation to each other, letâ€™s just say that the tickling was comprehensive.
This ordeal left us exhausted, quivering and gasping. It was getting near to midnight and we were already worn out from the dayâ€™s yardwork. Alex released Michelle from her bonds and left her to free the rest of us while he went to make cocoa. We sat and sipped our hot chocolate and discussed the eveningâ€™s entertainment. Even Andrea, though reluctantly, conceded that my brotherâ€™s efforts deserved a high score.
We all turned to Karen.
â€œUm, interesting,â€ was all she could muster.
Alex took the mugs to the kitchen, and when he returned, he sent Michelle to the master bedroom. He gave the four of us a chance to use the bathroom, and as we each came back he bound our hands behind our backs. The nightâ€™s games were not over, but we werenâ€™t sure what my brother was up to. He herded us to the second bedroom.
â€œYou share tonight,â€ he said.
When weâ€™d arranged ourselves side by side on the bed, he tied our ankles as well.
Now I donâ€™t pretend to understand the male psyche (nor do I really want to), but my brother obviously derived some sort of pleasure from the mere thought of four females bound and sleeping together, or he got it into his head that we might. Well, I guess it might have been sexy. The bed wasnâ€™t big enough for the four of us, so we had to sleep with our bodies interlocked in classic spooning position. That sounds cosy enough, but think about it â€“ our hands were tied behind our backs and jammed into each otherâ€™s... well, I shall leave it to the imagination what effect any sort of wriggling or fidgeting had. Fortunately no one had to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. That would have been a bother.
As we lay there cuddled up together, we listened through the wall â€“ I felt less guilty now about having done the same thing the previous night with Jack and Sabrina. Alex and Michelle were making the usual, unmistakeable sounds, except that she was clearly gagged. There was a sudden gargling noise.
â€œThat sounds like a ring gag,â€ Andrea whispered. â€œNo spitting it out.â€
It took me a moment to get her point. Oddly enough, it was Karen who giggled first. Yes, the girl was definitely proving to be a fast learner.
To be continued...
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Sun Jan 09, 2011 4:00 pm

Apologies for the delay in posting this latest instalment. The incessant rainfall and floods around here are starting to interfere with my routine.
PART FIVE: SUNDAY
If any of us thought that the intensity of our games would ease up in the absence of Jack and Rob, they were quickly disabused of that naive assumption.
I woke with sunlight streaming in, to find my legs intertwined with Andreaâ€™s on one side and Sabrinaâ€™s on the other. Somehow my ankle rope had come off and I had spread out in both directions. I sat up and flexed my arms to see if I could free them as well. No such luck. I carefully extricated myself from the tangle of limbs. The mattress heaved a little but the other girls did not wake. They were still bound hand and foot. I saw that Karenâ€™s wrists were red from where she had been twisting and contorting them, probably in her sleep; but the skin hadnâ€™t been broken. Alex had done a good job of tying us.
I disembarked from the foot of the bed and crept out into the hallway. There was a glow at the other end, but I turned into the bathroom. It was a simple enough task to use the toilet with my hands bound, even though I had to feel my way about because I couldnâ€™t reach the light switch. It was rather more difficult to wash my hands and face in the sink; but itâ€™s something Iâ€™ve had practice at (are you at all surprised?) and I managed. That accomplished, I went to the kitchen and found Alex and Michelle already preparing breakfast. I stopped in my tracks and stared open-mouthed. Not only was my brotherâ€™s being up and about so soon after dawn extraordinary in itself, but he was wearing plush silk pyjamas and a monogrammed robe, as if heâ€™d just teleported in from the Playboy mansion. Next to him, cutting up stuff on the counter, was Michelle. She was stark naked, and wearing a ball-gag.
She saw me staring, nodded a cordial â€œGood morningâ€ and went back to her chore.
â€œDonâ€™t like a lot of idle chatter from the womenfolk first thing in the morning,â€ Alex explained.
Michelle turned, made a disapproving sound and a threatening movement with the knife, tapping the crimson ball between her jaws with two fingers and then gesturing towards his genital area. He gave an apologetic shrug. Yet her casual nudity didnâ€™t rate a mention. I thought of bottomless Sabrina the previous morning. There must be something about this kitchen... Nevertheless, I doubt that Michelle would have been so barefaced â€“ or I should say bareskinned â€“ if the other men had still been in the house.
â€œDonâ€™t just stand there,â€ Alex growled. â€œPitch in and help.â€
I turned about to present my bound hands. And as he started to untie me, Sabrina wandered in, rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn. Despite her crumpled chemise, bleary eyes and unkempt hair, she managed to look more gorgeous than ever. But how she had contrived to free herself from her ropes I have no idea. She performed an exaggerated double take at my brotherâ€™s garb and his girlfriendâ€™s lack thereof.
â€œJust in time,â€ Alex said, and instructed Sabrina to â€œbe a good girl go fetchâ€ two ball-gags. I wondered what her response might be, but she just sighed and obeyed, returning half a minute later with them. She put one on herself and handed me the other. I buckled it in place. Mercifully (for him) Alex did not repeat his line about chattering females. From that moment, however, he did no more breakfast preparation, content to stand back, watch and supervise.
I started to help Michelle in peeling a bowlful of potatoes. Sabrina began slicing up tomatoes and a slab of bacon. Our concentration was soon interrupted, though, by a rhythmic thumping approaching down the hallway. We all went to look. Andrea and Karen, still bound, were slowly bunny-hopping from the bathroom towards us. They were concentrating on maintaining their balance and didnâ€™t notice us at first. Then Andrea looked up and winced.
Karen managed a chirpy â€œGood morning.â€ Her pink boxers were hanging perilously low on her hips and were slightly askew. I giggled as I realized that they had been assisting each other to use the toilet, and Andrea glared at me. And at Sabrina â€“ I presume because she hadnâ€™t untied them in the bedroom. Only then did they see Michelleâ€™s naked form. They shook their heads in unison. She just smiled... though maybe it was a grimace â€“ it was hard to tell (ball-gags having that effect).
Alex stepped forward and diverted the two into the living room, while Sabrina, Michelle and I returned to the kitchen. He rejoined us about five minutes later, saying nothing.
When it was time to set the table and bring out the meal, another half an hour had passed. Alex sent me to check on the two girls in the living room. As I expected, they were gagged and blindfolded, and of course hog-tied. (It may be obvious by now that this is my brotherâ€™s favourite tie-up position.) I reported back â€“ with sign language, naturally â€“ that they looked fatigued, so he gave me permission to release them, though from just the ropes. As I took an arm of each and guided them into the dining room, it didnâ€™t surprise me that Karen seemed okay with keeping her blindfold and gag. She was obviously still enjoying what to her was a compellingly novel experience. It did, however, astonish me that Andrea made no attempt to challenge my brotherâ€™s authority. I guess that because she can be strident and stubborn, itâ€™s easy to misjudge her. But the fact was that she had committed herself to the theme of the weekend, no more or less than the rest of us, and since this level of abject submission went against her very nature, that took a lot of strength â€“ of will and of character.
Alex took his place at the head of the table and we mere females waited patiently for permission to sit. Alex made a gesture and I tapped Karen on the shoulder. My brother was already digging in when he graciously allowed us to remove our gags, and the two girls their blindfolds. I had my usual fare, a glass of juice and a cup of coffee, and decided to make a glutton of myself with half a slice of toast. Sabrina amazed everyone with the amount of food she can put away â€“ how she retains her showgirl figure is an enduring mystery (although I guess living with Jack does wonders for the metabolism).
As we finished, Alex instructed us to clear up and wash up, except Michelle. She was still nude. Even though we are not exactly the most inhibited bunch of people you will find, it was a bit embarrassing having her like that at the breakfast table. And either that or the hearty meal, or both, inspired my brother, because he called her over, tied her hands behind her back and led her off to the bedroom. She smiled back at us over her shoulder. (It was definitely a smile this time, not a grimace.)
â€œWhat some people will do to get out of dish washing duty,â€ Andrea grumbled.
When the contented couple returned, Michelle now had something on her body, albeit a barely there bikini. I immediately had the feeling that this was going to be the motif, and indeed Alexâ€™s first words were: â€œLadies, bikinis.â€
Well, I was planning to wear one anyway, because it was that sort of weather â€“ warm enough but heavily overcast so there was no chance of sunburn. But once again, I found it interesting that what we each chose to wear reflected our personalities. Sabrina went for an ultrafeminine ruffle bikini, Michelle a perky little crochet number, Andrea a bandeau top and booty shorts, Karen a robust but sexy racer back style, and as for me, my lime green, triangle string bikini. (Donâ€™t ask me why this is important. Just thought Iâ€™d mention it.)
There was plenty of work to do this morning, but none of us had any doubt that Alex was going to make it interesting. Todayâ€™s assignment was gardening. The yard was a mess, overrun with weeds and scrubby bushes, and with trees in desperate need of a trimming, dropping leaves in the guttering and rooting up the pathways. It was going to be that sort of heavy, sweaty toil. While Sabrina was handing out the work gloves and safety goggles, Alex took his seat in one of the deck chairs on the veranda. When she proffered his kit, he stared disdainfully at the objects, then up at her. Okay, so that was to be the theme.
And so we set to work, while my brother lazed on the porch, admiring his five bikini-clad slavegirls as we laboured, and keeping us on task barking out superfluous commands and admonitions to â€œWork harder, girls.â€ To remind us who was boss, whenever he desired another cold beer or a snack, he called one of us up to fetch it; when his table and chair needed shifting from the encroaching sun, rather than do it himself he interrupted our work.
Eventually, inevitably, Andrea made a disparaging comment. He ordered us to line up and sent Michelle for our ball-gags. I suppose that this was the moment when we might have rebelled, and I suspect that it was Alexâ€™s test of our resolve and of his authority over us. And as soon as Sabrina inserted hers, he knew he had won. We all followed suit, then went back to our toil.
We didnâ€™t mind the work, of course. Weâ€™d be doing that anyway. In fact, our â€œslaveryâ€ took the edge off the tedium. It was harder to take my brotherâ€™s supercilious attitude, but it was all part of the game. He knew exactly which of our buttons to push and how hard to push them. In fact, we slogged harder than we would have otherwise; and during a brief mid-morning break for a drink, he commended us on what a good job we were doing. What had been planned as a full dayâ€™s effort would be completed by lunchtime. As our reward, he informed us, we would have the afternoon off to play games. Uh-oh, we all thought.
â€œRight, enough slacking off!â€ my brother snapped, as he reclined in his chair. â€œBack to work.â€
No one said a thing in response, not the sullen, pouting Andrea nor the giggling Karen. (Our newbie still hadnâ€™t really come to grips with what she was allowing herself to go through.) But naturally Alex wasnâ€™t finished. â€œForgotten something?â€ Our gags lay on the table. He saw our looks of anguish and, for once, decided that retreat was the better part of valour. â€œJust kidding.â€ But the backdown was only tactical. â€œDonâ€™t stop. Get on with it.â€
The routine was repeated during the second half of the morning. It was just after midday that Sabrina stopped, looked around, lay aside her shovel, pulled off her gloves and goggles and planted her hands on her hips.
â€œWhy have you stopped, slave?â€ Alex growled.
â€œWeâ€™re finished... sir.â€
My brother grinned, as the rest of us divested ourselves of our tools and gear. But he didnâ€™t miss a beat.
â€œThen youâ€™d better head inside and prepare lunch. Iâ€™m getting hungry.â€
â€œMay we clean up, SIR?â€ Michelle almost spat the last word at him.
â€œHmmm...â€ He scratched his chin, savouring the moment. â€œLine up and let me take a look.â€
He scrutinized our sweat-glistening, grime-encrusted, bikini-clad bodies. He liked what he saw.
â€œNo, straight to the kitchen.â€
So off we went, made lunch, brought it out onto the veranda. Our master graciously allowed us to join him.
However, our enthusiasm for the game was starting to wane. More to the point, Alex was smart enough to recognize that his slavegirlsâ€™ resilience and forbearance were starting to wear thin. But that didnâ€™t mean that the fun was over. It was only just beginning, as my brother quickly made clear. As we cleaned up, he sent me to bring out an armful of ropes and blindfolds. I set them down on the table beside our gags.
To be continued...

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Mon Jan 10, 2011 2:58 pm

> aielen wrote:nice. would never have been nude myself though.

Nor me :o)
Please note that future instalments may be somewhat delayed. Although I am in no danger, we are having record flooding in my local area, disrupting everything. It may be a while before things return to normal.
~ Sarah
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bondage 3M/5

Post by sarobah » Mon Jan 17, 2011 5:30 pm

This instalment was delayed because I have been preoccupied over the past few days in a huge and very messy post-flood clean-up.
As I posted elsewhere on this site, Sabrinaâ€™s property where this story took place was inundated last week. However, I can assure the gentle reader that the house was spared and the cattle were moved to safety on higher ground.
Part Five: Sunday, Continued
Alex directed us to take off our shoes, toss them in a pile next to the pathway and stand on the lawn, arranged in a large circle facing inwards, towards each other. He circumnavigated us from behind, handing us each a blindfold and dropping ropes at our feet. He told us to blindfold ourselves. I fussed about with mine in order to observe the others. Sabrina and Michelle didnâ€™t hesitate; Andrea, with her usual pout, fidgeted with the material, plying and flexing before applying it; Karen studied hers with the by now familiar but adorable wide-eyed wonderment, stroking the black satin with two fingers and even sniffing it. She didnâ€™t know how to fold it properly to shut out all light, so Alex gruffly snatched it from her grasp, muttering something about amateurs. He pleated it properly and secured it with a sharp tug that caused her to stagger backwards with a surprised â€œOoh!â€
He looked across at me watching them, frowned and pointed. I tied my blindfold in place.
â€œHobbles,â€ he commanded. He didnâ€™t specify how much slack to leave, but he didnâ€™t have to. I crouched on the grass, groped about for the rope, located it and bound it to my ankles. Doing so correctly left only about fifteen centimetres separating my feet at full stretch, not much more than the width of a spread hand.
â€œGood girls,â€ my brother said, but I heard him murmur something else, and guessed that he was assisting one of the others with her hobble, presumably Karen.
We stood up and at attention, for quite a long time. I had no idea what Alex was up to; but eventually he ordered us to put our hands behind our backs, wrists crossed. He circled us again, binding our elbows on the first pass and our wrists on the second. He made it very strict, wrenching my shoulders backward and thrusting out my chest until I felt my bikini top was about to pop off. My Lil Bro didnâ€™t need to see that. On the third circuit, he connected our hands and feet with a rope that was short enough that we were forced to bend slightly at the knees. Because he was assiduously thorough â€“ or more likely because he was enjoying himself â€“ Alex worked at a leisurely pace. The process had so far taken more than half an hour, and it was a good thing that we were standing in the shade of a tree, because a sudden increase in the temperature told me that the sun had broken through the clouds. I was the first to have my wrists and ankles coupled, and it was not easy to stand still for so long with knees bent and not be able to shuffle my feet because of the hobble. My thighs and calves got sore very quickly.
Yet my brother had only just begun... to my total lack of surprise. On the next circuit, he gagged us. I groaned when I felt the knob pressing against my lips. It was the penis gag, which I despise... and which is probably why my concerned and caring brother chose it. That was where he must have been earlier, when we were blindfolded and waiting â€“ inside the house fetching these horrid appliances. I thought about resisting, as futile a gesture as that might have been, but he pre-empted a struggle by clamping one hand on the back of my neck and jamming the hideous protuberance past my lips and against my teeth. I quickly surrendered and accepted it into my mouth. He laughed â€“ the savage beast â€“ when he heard my muffled whimper.
After that, Alex put us each in an elaborate chest harness, and attached to it a crotch rope which ran up behind to the elbows. Now your average young guy may have some qualms about looping and tightening the ropes around and between his sisterâ€™s breasts, and even more so in positioning the cable between her legs to make the effect â€œjust rightâ€ â€“ but not my Lil Bro. Heâ€™s had ten years to practise on me, to work out the kinks, so to speak. But of the five of us, he was most meticulous with Michelle, and by the time heâ€™d finished she was softly moaning... or maybe purring... it was hard to tell through her gag.
For his finishing flourish, Alex commanded us to turn to the left, and he strung three tethers around the circle. One connected us by a yoke fastened loosely around our necks; a second joined my breast harness to Andreaâ€™s elbow-tie in front of me (which I knew because of the tugging on my arms when he did the same to Sabrina behind me); and a third was weaved or threaded around our crotch ropes, emerging at the front and rear to complete the link to the other girls. As soon as we started moving, the knot for this final tether slipped and settled into a position which made for a very stimulating experience.
Finally we were ready. Alex had taken ages and my body was beginning to cramp up, exacerbating the boredom and the tension of waiting to be put through our paces. It can also be unnerving when you have absolutely no idea what lies ahead. However, unlike my fellow damsels, I had an inkling of what was coming, because I had been through stuff like this before. We were directed to shift sideways and outwards to extend the radius of our circle. When our tethers became taut, Alex yelled â€œStop!â€ and then â€œStart marching!â€
We went around in our circle maybe two dozen times, shuffling and shambling in our ankle restraints, with Alex constantly berating us to â€œSpeed up!â€ and â€œKeep those leashes tight!â€ This was hard enough in our hobbles without stumbling, and almost impossible to synchronize without the benefit of sight to keep the optimum distance apart, leading to much pulling and jerking on our tethers. After a couple of times round we were able to use the tightening and slackening of the ropes to keep to our curved path.
Although the exercise was not overly strenuous, the strain of having to concentrate on our movements had us very quickly gasping and puffing heavily through our gags. Though we were out of the direct sunlight, it was a sultry day, and perspiration was trickling down my face and body, soaking my bikini and the edges of my blindfold. And the crotch-ropes were working their particular brand of magic as well.
Not for the first time this weekend I was imagining how silly we all must look â€“ well, five of us at least. While it would have been interesting to see the spectacle for myself, it is on this sort of occasion that I am very glad of our blanket rule against cameras, photo and video. This was not the sort of image I want making its way into the public domain â€“ five bikini-clad captives, trussed, gagged and blindfolded, leashed together, sweating and panting, shuffling round and round, trying desperately to maintain a steady pace in our hobbles, trying even more desperately to cope with the sensations produced by our crotch-ropes. Not that it wasnâ€™t fun, of course. From behind and in front I could hear giggling as well as moaning, in addition to some gargled cursing â€“ that would be Andrea. But my brother did not endear himself to us with intermittent commands to â€œHop like bunniesâ€ and â€œWiggle those butt cheeksâ€ and â€œShake those racksâ€ â€“ which we ignored, naturally. Fortunately for his future wellbeing, he didnâ€™t insist.
When at last Alex ordered us to halt, an audible sigh of relief passed around the circle, but the respite was short-lived. He unhitched me from Andrea and without warning strode off, yanking me brusquely forward and dragging the rest of the girls along behind. Because he hadnâ€™t warned us, it was an untidy, jarring process, each jump start producing a jolting (though not choking) tug on the yoke about our necks, and causing the other ropes to tighten around our breasts and grind and snag in the crevices of our lower parts.
He led us in two complete circuits of the yard and house, meandering past and around the trees, shrubs and garden beds. Notwithstanding the difficulty of negotiating the course in my hobble and blindfold, and the torment to my bare feet of gravelly pathways and prickly grass and pebbly patches of bare dirt, I had it easier than the other girls. Being first in line, I could be steered around the obstacles, whereas behind me the column soon began to snake about â€“ I could tell from the stress it put on our tethers. Every so often, ripe language emanated from behind one of the gags, as someone brushed against a spiky plant or stubbed her toe on an emergent tree root.
Eventually, Alex guided us out of the yard. I knew we were heading up the access road leading from the house to the highway, because our line had straightened out and I could feel the corrugated surface of the roadway underfoot. I was thinking what a sight weâ€™d make for anyone who came visiting at that moment, but we were in a very secluded spot and anyway you could hear vehicles coming from a long distance away as their wheels rumbled over the ruts. After shuffling several hundred metres, we turned off into a paddock â€“ I heard the gate squeak on its rusting hinges, and long blades of unmown grass tickled my legs. The sun had retreated behind the clouds once more, and a cool, gentle breeze wafted across the field, caressing my bare skin.
â€œThis is it,â€ Alex informed us. We halted and waited.
To be continued...

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying... (Continued) 3M/5F

Post by sarobah » Wed Jan 19, 2011 3:09 pm

READERSâ€™ ADVISORY: This instalment features pop psychology and water cooler philosophy.
Part Five: Sunday, Continued
Before continuing with the story, I think this is a good time to pause and review the events so far, specifically the motivations and reactions of the participants, and especially during the time that the five of us girls were alone with my brother.
The weekend of bondage games was mainly my idea. It was a way for me to recover some of the uninhibited enjoyment and excitement which had been slowly percolating out of my life in recent months, on account of the pressures from my professional and other commitments. And since it was also to celebrate my birthday, I decided on the format, which is why we adopted the guy-on-girl theme. I have nothing against girls tying up guys, for sure, and certainly no issue with girls tying up other girls or guys tying up guys. And while switching between the two ends of the rope is not my cup of tea, this is Andreaâ€™s modus operandi. On the other hand, all three men â€“ Rob, Jack and Alex â€“ are most definitely binders rather than bindees, though they are not in any way prejudiced. So when Andreaâ€™s boyfriend Luke pulled out and was replaced by Karen, it actually made sense for her to join the boysâ€™ team and thus even up the couples.
But I always been a big fan of the â€œbattle of the sexesâ€ scenario, and for me guys capturing and tying up girls is the definitive version of the game. A lot of people donâ€™t get that â€“ â€œIsnâ€™t it a one-sided contest?â€ they say. However, from my perspective, while men are stronger, we women are (and have to be) tougher, which is why my favourite plotline is the straightforward guy-on-girl. We each play to our strengths.
On the other hand, I must confess that my pushing of the guy-on-girl motif was impelled to an extent by personal animus towards the haughty, waspish Andrea. Perhaps â€œanimusâ€ is too strong a word, especially since the same adjectives could be used to describe me at times, but she is in many ways not the most endearing human being. I thought she deserved and needed her comeuppance, and as you can tell from the games we had already played that weekend, humiliation constituted a strong subtext. So my motives were not particularly pure, but it wasnâ€™t that she did not enjoy herself. Loving both sweet and sour doesnâ€™t mean youâ€™re going to hate getting just the one flavour.
In this my brother proved to be my unsuspecting ally. His take-it-or-leave-it offer on Saturday night (the â€œhonorary maleâ€ condition) forced Andrea to take a stand. Of course, his motivation was even baser than mine â€“ he didnâ€™t want to share his privileges, especially with a girl whom he could be tying up along with the rest of us.
So for 48 hours, Alex got to live the ultimate hetero male fantasy, as master of the harem, alone with five young women over whom he was granted total control. It merely added extra piquancy that he was the youngest in the house and that we are all strong, proud, confident, high-achieving females. Itâ€™s the inverse power dynamic that I have mentioned before, and which Alex and I have developed in our sibling relationship.
Of this dynamic, Sabrina is a beautiful example, as I have previously explained. Amongst all of us, she represents the most interesting and most paradoxical combination of assertive and submissive. Unlike many successful people whose masochism serves as a release valve for the pressures of their professional life, for Sabrina assertion and submission are complementary facets of her character. For her it is natural to be the owner of a prosperous business during the day and come home to a relationship in which she is homeowner and chief breadwinner and yet be content to assume the subordinate role, serving her man, waiting on him hand and foot, putting his demands above her wants and needs. Bondage is therefore a symbol of her submission to Jack and her devotion both to him and to her ideals, rather than a pleasure in itself. In fact, I donâ€™t think she gets the same physical gratification out of being tied up as the rest of us do â€“ for her bondage is essentially a state of mind.
The opposite can be said of Michelle. Of the five of us, she is the one for whom being tied up is essentially a sensual, sexual pleasure. And yet, until I introduced her to my brother, I donâ€™t think sheâ€™d had much experience, if in fact any at all at this level of bondage. The games she had played with her brothers has been, naturally asexual. I do recall on a couple of occasions, when the four of us (thatâ€™s including Rob) were together, that the topic came up and she sounded intrigued, but she also looked somewhat repulsed at the idea of being tied up. So I donâ€™t know how that squares with her childhood games or how she and Alex first got into it, but she quickly became an enthusiast. She is happy to be tied up by either sex, and to tie up girls, but in our circle of friends the opportunity hasnâ€™t arisen when she gets to tie up a male, so I donâ€™t know what her thoughts are on that subject. But given her inclination, on this weekend, and in particular during the time that we were alone with Alex, she was the one of us least likely to refuse or resist whatever our master had in store for us.
And in that respect, the surprise of the weekend was Karen. Although sheâ€™d had a good time on the Thursday evening, I had no idea how she was going to cope with four whole days of being tied up, humiliated and taken to her physical and emotional limits. In retrospect, I donâ€™t think she shares the submissive tendencies of Sabrina, the contrarian appetence of Andrea or Michelleâ€™s raw sensualism. What she went though, or rather was put through, that weekend was a new, exciting, not always pleasurable, once-is-enough experience. She was willing to see it through to the end and was therefore determined to make it as much fun as possible. However, I doubt that she will ever play tie-up games again â€“ though I have been wrong about this before.
Which brings this pop psychology profile back to yours truly. Itâ€™s not easy to look into the mirror and see oneâ€™s reflection in a completely neutral light, but as far as I can tell, I am an amalgam of the traits I perceive in Sabrina, Michelle and Andrea. Like Sabrina, I am assertive in my professional life (Iâ€™m known around the department as â€œthat little bee with an itchâ€) and no pushover in my social interactions. But in my personal relationships I tend to the submissive. After a hard dayâ€™s work (and just like Sabrina, I am the partnershipâ€™s principal income earner) I love nothing better than to come home and sit at the feet of my lord and master, devote myself to him and attend to his wishes. But for me itâ€™s mostly fantasy role-play â€“ I am not by nature subservient. And for me thatâ€™s the attraction of bondage â€“ the ropes symbolize my act of submission, though in a somewhat different way from how it works with Sabrina. I need to be held in captivity, otherwise I will break out and fly away.
Iâ€™m sure you know the fable of the scorpion and the frog â€“
Halfway across the river, carrying the scorpion, the frog suddenly felt his passengerâ€™s deadly sting.
â€œYou fool!â€ croaked the frog, as they sank into the water. â€œNow weâ€™ll both die! Why did you do that?â€
The scorpion shrugged. â€œI couldnâ€™t help myself. Itâ€™s my nature.â€
Okay, itâ€™s not a perfect analogy; but Iâ€™m like the scorpion. Uninhibited, unbound, my base nature will prevail, subduing, sublimating and suppressing even my own desires.
Thatâ€™s not to say I am nobly self-abnegating. As with Michelle, for me being tied up and playing the slavegirl are an amazing, awesome, breathtaking turn-on. The stricter the bondage, the more demanding my master, the greater and more satisfying the experience. And just like Andrea, I enjoy the challenge of the tie-up game for its own sake, even if my â€œdo your worstâ€ defiance can lead me into some pretty sticky and strenuous ordeals.
All three aspects of my bondage persona were first manifested in the games I played with my brother. (Donâ€™t worry, thereâ€™s nothing icky here.) He was the first to tie me up, when I was thirteen years of age and he was ten... actually, it was Alex and one of his little friends. Because I was older and (at the time) bigger, thatâ€™s when I became aware of the symbolic potency of the inverse power dynamic. It was not enough for the boys to capture me, as I could have fought them off; I had to surrender willingly. There was also an enduring symbolism in the fact that they were boys and I was a girl. At that age, and in playing with your brother, it is not about sex, but it is about gender.
So over the next few years Lil Bro tied up Big Sis many times, but never vice versa. Yet if I had been born a boy (heaven forbid!) with exactly the intellect, personality and temperament I have now, I am sure that I would be tying up girls and not being tied up. For me itâ€™s always the battle of the sexes. And here â€“ with all due respect to other points of view â€“ I believe that girls have an advantage over guys in TUGs. We (females, I mean) are conditioned by nature and by nurture to assume the passive and complaint role, to be submissive rather than dominant. We can more easily switch â€“ like Andrea â€“ and more comfortably surrender to what goes against our nature â€“ like Karen â€“ or carry on two vastly different lifestyles, public and private â€“ like Sabrina â€“ than the average male, who is brought up to be strong, proud and domineering. (This is why I admire guys who love being tied up, by girls or by other guys, because they do not allow themselves to be constrained by social and cultural conditioning.)
Because of my parentsâ€™ career commitments, our family moved around a lot; and as a result, Alex and I didnâ€™t get the opportunity to make lasting friendships with the neighbourhood kids or at school. So much of the time we had to rely on each other for companionship; but because I was often obliged to play babysitter, our relationship was somewhat antagonistic, albeit good-natured. Yet the big sister little brother dynamic started to shift as my fascination for tie-up games began to crystallize, and for want of a viable alternative I recruited Alex into my damsel-in-distress adventures. He took heartily to his role as my captor, relishing the opportunity to subdue bossy big sis and assert his juvenile, masculine ascendancy. For me, this is the essence of bondage games, a delicious absurdity in which the strong are willingly subdued, the proud cheerfully humbled, the free-spirited joyfully shackled.
One final point should be made before I end this interminable treatise. Despite all that transpired over the weekend, Alex is not what one would call sadistic, or cruel, or callous. Instead, he has a warped sense of humour, a tendency to the outrageous and a penchant for the bizarre and the grotesque. This explains the tableaux he likes to create, such as those on that Sunday afternoon. He likes to make things unpleasant and uncomfortable for his prisoners, but he also knows how far to push us â€“ to the edge of our enjoyment and endurance, but not beyond. Thatâ€™s mostly my doing. I may have created the monster, but I also programmed him.
So with that out of the way, I shall return to my story... in the next instalment.
To be continued...
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying... (Continued) 3M/5F

Post by Qarl » Thu Jan 20, 2011 2:01 am

First of all Sarah, glad you're still safe from all the flooding. I hope the cleanup isn't too ridiculous. Hang in there. Second, I love picturing the scene, and with your writing, it's so easy to do so. 5 girls bound strictly with crotch ropes, hobbles, gags, and blindfolds.... "it doesn't get any better than this." And finally, I love your introspective and observational descriptions. It's both a tease and a delight for the soul. For those of us who don't get to enjoy the games the way you do, it's a vicarious, next best thing.
As always, thanks!
-Carl

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying... (Continued) 3M/5F

Post by sarobah » Thu Jan 20, 2011 3:02 am

Thanks. I do my best :o)
We are heading out to the property this weekend for the clean-up.
This episode is somewhat more adults-only than previous instalments.
Part Five: Sunday, Continued
Alex freed us from the tethers and our hobbles and our chest harness and crotch ropes. I heard him pulling one of us aside and telling her â€œYouâ€™ll be sitting this one out.â€
A couple of minutes later, he took off my blindfold, and Sabrinaâ€™s. I looked about. We were standing on the crest of a gently sloping ridge. We were right on the borderline of Sabrinaâ€™s property, a few hundred metres from the house, which sat on the crown of the next ridge. In between, the ground fell away gradually into a shallow trough, along which flowed a small stream concealed within a ribbon of greenery. The slopes were a lush meadow, dotted with a few trees and littered with scrubby bushes. A dozen cattle grazed on the hillside, tails lazily flicking at the flies. Crows were playing in the grass, and somewhere a solitary cricket was chirpily announcing its presence. The sun was coming and going behind its cloudy curtain, but the breeze had begun to subside, so it was warm and uncomfortably muggy, even in my bikini.
I glanced about. Michelle and Karen were off to one side, still blindfolded. Andrea was behind us, lying on her belly, hog-tied.
Alex seized Sabrina and me by an arm each and dragged us to stand next to Karen and Michelle. He reapplied our hobbles, but with twice as much margin as before. Then he tied my right elbow and ankle to Karenâ€™s left, and did the same with Sabrina and Michelle. He took another rope and wound it a couple of times around my right boob, tightening it more than was pleasant but not so much as to cause a problem, and he attached it to Karenâ€™s left breast. She flinched and winced as he did so, more from embarrassment than discomfort. So naturally she gasped and shuddered and cringed at what he did next. He had prepared four crotch ropes â€“ I donâ€™t know when heâ€™d had time to do it. Each consisted of three strands, the middle one braided, and connected, when in place, to a rope collar front and back. As he ran it between the legs, he positioned the outside strands on either side of the fleshy folds and the braided one right down the centre crease. It was hardly Karenâ€™s first crotch rope, but this one was so elaborate and Alex was so conscientious about its placement that she squirmed and shook her head vigorously. Sabrina did as well, blushing and exhaling loudly through her gag, but Michelle (I wasnâ€™t at all surprised) just smiled behind hers.
After my turn had come, with even the slightest movement the braided cord had its effect. I was already tingling on the outside and on the inside. And thus, having a good idea what lay ahead, I wasnâ€™t quite sure whether I should be dreading or looking forward to it.
Before that, however, for a final flourish Alex swapped our gags. As he withdrew the horrid protuberance, I smiled with relief, but that didnâ€™t last. He extracted Karenâ€™s and held it before me.
â€œOpen wide.â€ He grinned wickedly.
I donâ€™t know why Iâ€™m squeamish about these things, but the taste of Karenâ€™s saliva on the shaft as it went in past my lips made me feel just a little bit queasy. I tried to contain my aversion, because I didnâ€™t know if it would offend her. She didnâ€™t appear to react to my taste on her gag â€“ in fact, as she was blindfolded I donâ€™t know if she even realized what had happened â€“ so I put it out of my mind.
In any case, I didnâ€™t have time to brood on it. Joined in pairs, the four of us were swivelled round to stand side by side facing towards the house in the distance. Alex pointed it out, as if Sabrina and I couldnâ€™t see it, and as if Karen and Michelle were somehow able to see where he was gesturing.
â€œItâ€™s a race,â€ he explained. â€œFirst to the house wins the prize.â€ Knowing my brother, that could be either a good or a bad thing. â€œGo!â€
The sudden start took all of us by surprise, but I got a slight jump on Sabrina. Nevertheless, it was going to be a demanding contest. My partner was blindfolded, and all I had to guide her with were the grunts and gurgles I could make through my gag and the movements I could make with the ankle and breast tethers, plus an occasional nudge with the shoulder. Naturally the hobbles made it more difficult to negotiate the uneven ground, and our crotch ropes certainly made the challenge a lot more interesting. Each step caused the braided cord to work its way in and out of the cleft and methodically fulfil its purpose, abetted by the outside ropes which squeezed the lips inwards for all-over stimulation. Before we even reached the base of the first slope, Karen was moaning â€“ whether in agony or in ecstasy it was hard to tell. The best way to minimise its effects was to push my knees apart, but they could only spread so far with our ankle restraints, and anyway that just make walking all the more difficult. The other thing to do was to bite down hard on the silicone rubber shaft filling my mouth â€“ for once I was grateful for the penis gag, even a second-hand one.
After the first tentative steps, Karen and I developed a rather discordant rhythm. We could only take very small steps â€“ the hobbles and crotch ropes saw to that â€“ and every few paces we had to stop to adjust and realign. Alex trailed along close behind to assist or save us, but neither Sabrina nor I was motivated to set a speed record. Sticks and stubble and sharp stones under our bare feet slowed us down as well, and spiky blades of grass scratched and tickled our legs. On occasion the ankle rope snagged on a protruding root or branch. There were no fences or other obstacles to surmount or avoid, which was a blessing, but at the bottom of the saddle between the two ridges was that intersecting creek, which looked more ominously overgrown and the rocky bed more jagged as we approached.
I was also working up a raging thirst. We hadnâ€™t had anything to drink since lunchtime, and the gag was making me salivate heavily. This temporarily moistens the mouth and throat but is in the long run dehydrating.
One thing that was reassuring was the elbow connection. At first I thought this was just an affectation by my brother, but it didnâ€™t take long to realize that without it, if either of us tripped or stumbled, our bound-together boobs could have been injured. Nonetheless, a breast tether is a humiliating way to be leashed to another girl... which I guess was the point.
I was mostly worried about encountering a snake or picking up ticks in the long grass. Every so often I would pause to scan the ground ahead of us, and Karen, who had no idea why I was halting, made exasperated puffing noises through her gag.
As we passed the cows ruminating in the shade of a nearby tree, they turned their heads languidly to follow our progress.
â€œDonâ€™t mind us, girls,â€ I mumbled.
One of them gave me a quizzical look, shook its great head and uttered its baritone appraisal of our weird adventure.
When we reached the creek, I discovered that its passage would be less daunting than I had feared. The water level was about waist height, from what I could tell, along most of its course, but about a hundred metres upstream was a rocky ford no more than knee deep. I managed to signal to my partner that we needed to turn about to take this detour. The bank was muddy and slippery, and a couple of times we almost tumbled, but we could bypass the scattered boulders and heavy undergrowth. The water, when we finally crossed, was surprisingly warm, and the pebbles on the bed were ticklishly rounded and smooth. More formidable was the climb up the bank on the other side. It was very hard to keep a solid footing hitched together, but somehow we managed to stay upright. I was by now feeling a good deal of pride in our achievement. Sabrina and Michelle were not far behind, and I glanced about to find Alex. My brother was standing not far away, and he seemed quite impressed. At some stage he had returned to our start line and retrieved Andrea. She was still bound, gagged and blindfolded. He had her on a leash which, like our tethers, was attached to one of her breasts.
After that, the going was relatively easy. There was a narrow track leading up from the shallow crossing in both directions, and I scolded myself for not having seen it before â€“ and Sabrina for not knowing about it, since this was, after all, her property. When we finally made it, I realized that the sun was beginning its descent towards the western horizon. It must have been an hour and a half since our race started. Karen and I ended up the winners by just a few metres. We collapsed to our knees on the lawn, puffing and panting, lathered in perspiration, moaning more than ever from the effects of the crotch ropes. Sabrina and I looked at each other, and up at my brother, in both pride and embarrassment.
Now that Karen and I had won, we anticipated our reward with dread apprehension.
My brother, however, dropped a bombshell. Of course he did.
â€œAfter reviewing the result,â€ he announced, â€œyour judge rules that the minikins have been disqualified.â€
Since Karen and I are substantially shorter than Sabrina and Michelle, I surmised that he meant us.
â€œIf the minikins wish to appeal the decision,â€ he continued, â€œnow is the time to speak up.â€
Even if Iâ€™d decided that winning the appeal was a good thing, all I would be capable of was a few incoherent grunts and gurgles, so I kept my silence.
â€œThen Sabrina and Michelle will be fighting it out for the championship.â€
While they awaited their final showdown, Alex arranged the rest of us. We were ordered to kneel with our backs to the fence, close enough that we almost touched. Our hands were untied â€“ a blessed relief since my arms, shoulders and chest were starting to ache badly â€“ and we were made to stretch them out horizontally to the side. Andrea was in the middle, so her left arm went behind my head and my right arm behind hers; same with Karen on the other side. Alex bound our wrists to the top rail of the fence, and her also tied our boobs together â€“ my right one, Karenâ€™s left one, both of Andreaâ€™s. My brother really had a thing for breasts that day. Karen and Andrea were still blindfolded and saw none of the action, so I was the only audience.
To decide the â€œgrand finalâ€ Alex had Sabrina and Michelle squat on the lawn, with backs straight, balanced on the balls of their feet, heels together but with knees spread apart. In that pose, the efficacy of their crotch ropes was plain to see. The contest was simple, to determine who could maintain her posture the longest â€“ easy to do for a few minutes but increasingly difficult and painful, especially with their arms pinioned behind them. The strain quickly began to tell on their faces. Michelle was naive enough to think that the contest was somehow worth winning, and struggled to stay uptight, but Iâ€™m not sure what kept Sabrina going. Eventually, however, she tottered, tried desperately to regain her bearing, and toppled sideways.
Alex hauled Michelle to her feet and proclaimed her the winner.
â€œFor the losers...â€ he looked towards us bound to the fence, and at Sabrina, prone on the grass, â€œyour fate is to be enslaved.â€
Big deal. So whatâ€™s new?
â€œFor the winner...â€ he put an arm round his girl and pulled her into his side, â€œthe privilege of having the master inside her tonight.â€ Yes, my Lil Bro really does talk like that.
Sabrina stared up at him. Surely not...
â€œDonâ€™t worry, my dear,â€ he said to his girlfriend in a stage whisper, â€œyou never need to worry about losing while Iâ€™m referee.â€
To be continued
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.

### Re: How I Learned to Stop Worrying... (Continued) 3M/5F

Post by sarobah » Mon Jan 24, 2011 2:37 am

Part Five: Sunday, Continued
Alex untied us and we went inside the house. There he allowed us to remove our gags and promised that if we were â€œgood girlsâ€ we would not be gagged again that night.
â€œUnless I decide otherwise,â€ he added with a sneer. There was more all-round eye-rolling, and a rather undignified snort from Andrea. Nevertheless, we chose not to provoke him, and he preferred to avoid testing the limits of his authority. He turned to Michelle and informed her that he was ready to give her the first part of her reward.
â€œOh, lucky me,â€ she said with a grimace (that didnâ€™t fool anyone) and went off to the bedroom.
Sabrina asked Alex if we were permitted to change out of our begrimed, sweat-stained bikinis. I was surprised that she kept in role-play mode; and even more surprised when my brother did not take advantage to issue some outlandish demand. Instead, he glanced impatiently towards the bedroom, where Michelle awaited his attention.
â€œSure,â€ he said with a dismissive wave of the hand, â€œbut donâ€™t take too long. Youâ€™ve got dinner to cook.â€
Sabrina went to get cleaned up first so she could get things underway in the kitchen as soon as possible. Andrea, Karen and I awaited our turn relaxing on the front porch, discussing the events of the day.
As expected, Karen was quite animated.
â€œDo you do this sort of thing very often?â€ she asked, somewhat belatedly.
â€œNot as often as I think you think,â€ I replied.
â€œI hate the gag,â€ she said.
â€œDonâ€™t we all!â€ Of course, that was not strictly true. I love most types of gag, just not the one we had to wear that afternoon.
â€œWell, you know, I donâ€™t really hate it...â€ Karen began to backpedal. Thatâ€™s typical of the novice, who is struggling to understand the difference (but also the connection) between the tie-up games of your childhood or that time not long ago when your friends tied you up while you were fooling around, and the bondage games youâ€™re playing now. â€œItâ€™s kind of hot, you know, sexy, in a way...â€ Thatâ€™s also typical, searching for the right words to describe what youâ€™re feeling. You are dealing with sensations that are not just outside your normal experience but something for which you have no apt words because youâ€™ve never had reason to find them. Thereâ€™s embarrassment, even some shame, mixed in with the exhilaration, because itâ€™s difficult to come to grips with the fact that it is the humiliation and the sense of helplessness, the submission and the loss of control, that excites you, what turns you on.
As Sabrina came out brushing her hair, Karen leapt up to go next. Instead of following Sabrina inside to help with dinner, Andrea and I continued to lounge on the porch, as the sun sank rapidly toward the western hills. We didnâ€™t say much â€“ weâ€™ve never had a lot to say to each other. Itâ€™s not that weâ€™re unfriendly, just not close friends.
When it was Andreaâ€™s turn to shower, it would have been nice to sit there alone, in quiet contemplation, but I thought I should I join Karen and Sabrina in the kitchen. They were preparing a salad, and I was assigned the job of peeling and slicing a half dozen boiled eggs.
I pushed the bowl away with a crinkled nose. â€œSorry, canâ€™t do that,â€ I explained, and before I got a dirty look, â€œIâ€™m allergic. Believe me, it wonâ€™t be a pretty sight.â€
â€œThen youâ€™re no use at all,â€ Sabrina growled.
I stared at her and she grinned. She has a deadpan sense of humour, which is something you acquire from living with Jack, so itâ€™s hard at times to know when sheâ€™s joking.
â€œWhat about carrots? Are you allergic to them?â€
â€œWell, letâ€™s find out.â€
But at that moment Andrea came in. â€œOkay, midget, youâ€™re next.â€
I excused myself, waving the largest carrot of the bunch in Andreaâ€™s face. â€œDo you know what you can do with this?â€
She gave me a queer look.
â€œChop it up,â€ Sabrina said quietly.
I lifted my head, shut my eyes, held out my arms and just let the soothing flow run over me for several minutes. It felt deliciously sensual and curiously erotic, as it fondled and caressed my body. I shivered despite the waterâ€™s heat, and my skin was not the only part of me that tingled. I was still on a high from the dayâ€™s games. And as I stepped from the cubicle and started to reach for the towel, I paused to allow the warm rivulets to stream along the contours of my figure and trickle down my arms and legs.
I wiped the mist from the mirror to study my reflection. My wrists and ankles, my breasts and especially my groin were pink from the marking and chafing of the ropes. My muscles were aching, my feet were sore, my mouth felt raw. There are times, I must confess, when I wish that my enjoyment came from being on the other end of the ropes. I guess itâ€™s not really fair that while both partners share in the pleasure of bondage, only one has to pay the cost. But Iâ€™m happy with it. Iâ€™m glad I am what I am, and wouldnâ€™t want it any other wayâ€¦ Okay, so thatâ€™s the sort of stuff which occupies my thoughts when Iâ€™m in the bathroom. It must be that dihydrogen monoxide poisoning Iâ€™ve read about.
By the time I rejoined the others, most of the food preparation had been completed and I did not have to contribute, which was just as well for the health and safety of all concerned. Karen and I set the table while Sabrina and Andrea put the finishing touches to the meal. While we brought it out, Andrea went to summon Alex and Michelle. I heard her knocking on the bedroom door, and a minute later she returned, looking slightly flushed and dolefully shaking her head.
â€œYou donâ€™t want to know,â€ she said.
Being good slavegirls, we stood back from the dining table at attention, awaiting the arrival of our lord and his concubine. I was hoping Michelle would not be naked like this morning, and she wasnâ€™t â€“ though her bra and g-string panties did not really cover that much more. But I suppose I should add that the rest of us were not exactly overdressed either â€“ me in a camisole and French knickers, Sabrina gorgeous in an exquisite lilac satin chemise, Andrea cool and sexy in a black strapless teddy with a matching translucent chiffon wrap, and Karen cute and pretty in a powder blue, flower-embroidered babydoll nightie â€“ very likely the most girlie-girl thing she owned. The lingerie was a spontaneous indulgence. It was the sort of mood we were in. My brother, of course, repeated his Hugh Hefner-style silk PJs and robe ensemble. If he started puffing on a pipe, I would have hit him with something.
As we took our seats, our master instructed us, with a superior smile, that we were to keep our heads bowed and our eyes downcast and our mouths shut unless spoken to. And naturally that injunction remained in force just long enough for his self-satisfied expression to fade and for the wine glasses to be filled. Finding himself outnumbered, outflanked and outmanoeuvred, my brother was shrewd enough to know when to abandon his position and exercise a tactical retreat.
So we had a regular meal, and I was sort of hoping there would be no more games that evening. I wouldnâ€™t say no, of course, but I felt that a bit of a rest was in order so we could start again, refreshed, in the morning. To be honest, I wanted to save some of my energy and enthusiasm for the return of Jack and Rob. However, I knew it wasnâ€™t to be when, as we rose from the table, my brother moved quickly to Michelleâ€™s side, seized her shoulders and spun her about, wrenched her arms behind her back to truss them with tape.
â€œOh well,â€ I thought, â€œIf weâ€™re to resume the fun, using tape is a good thing. My poor skin has had enough of rope for one day.â€
By the time the rest of us reported for duty in the living room, Michelle was lying hog-tied on her belly across Alexâ€™s lap, her bra still in place but her panties crumpled at her knees. He had one hand resting on her derriÃ¨re, slowly kneading the bare flesh, the other massaging her neck and shoulders. Her bound hands were clenched, her toes curled. Her head was turned towards us and her eyelids were fluttering as though she was in a trance. She was squirming a little, and I could hear her gasping and quietly murmuring through her ball-gag. (So much for my brotherâ€™s no-gags promise. I had no doubt his perfidy would extend to the rest of us as well.) A dribble of saliva leaked from the corner of her mouth. I suspected that before we came in, the hand on her backside had been in a slightly different position.
I glanced at Karen to see her reaction (not for the first time). I wasnâ€™t sure exactly what she was thinking. She was obviously feeling some embarrassment as a fellow female for Michelleâ€™s not so dignified position â€“ but also, I sensed, a spot of envy for her dreamy state of ecstasy.
â€œAre we all ready to start again?â€ my brother asked, as he pointed to the floor in the middle of the room, just beyond his outstretched legs.
We nodded as we went down on our knees. Alex gestured, and we each clasped our hands behind our heads.
â€œSarah.â€
â€œYes?â€
â€œYes what?â€
â€œYesâ€¦ SIR!â€
â€œThatâ€™s better,â€ he chirped. If my Lil Bro had appended â€œgood girlâ€ I would surely have leapt straight for his throat.
He issued my directive and I went off to the two bedrooms. I returned and dumped the bundle by his feet â€“ a pile of brassieres, knickers, pantyhose and socks, belonging to the five of us â€“ all clean stuff of course (weâ€™re kinky but not too kinky). Then we four began joining, bunching and binding the garments according to his instructions. We followed our usual pattern â€“ Sabrina silent and diligent, Andrea mumbling under her breath, Karen getting elated and agitated because this looked to be something new, and Iâ€¦ well, I just carried on stoically, as always.
When weâ€™d completed the task, the articles were sorted into four small heaps. Andrea and Sabrina were ordered to lie on their stomachs, feet together, arms at their sides. Karen and I were told to kneel astride their legs â€“ she on Sabrina and me Andrea.
We started with the gags Alex had promised were not to be. We had made up rudimentary ball-types by rolling up socks around bras. Andrea scrunched up her face and licked her lips to moisten her mouth as I inserted hers. These are not the most pleasant of gags. The cotton taste and texture quickly become astringent as your mouth first goes dry from the absorptive properties of the socks, and then the wad becomes disagreeably musty as it saturates with your saliva. Yet itâ€™s ideal for the damsel in distress just because itâ€™s uncomfortable â€“ thatâ€™s good because you want the experience to be memorable without being unbearable or hazardous.
Adding to Andreaâ€™s and Sabrinaâ€™s discomfort, the gag was difficult to fix in place because of the elastic qualities of the bra strap. Karen and I had to tug hard to take up the slack, hauling our captivesâ€™ heads back rather severely to make it secure. Andreaâ€™s muffled whimper was so pathetic I actually felt sorry for her. I drew her hair back with tender strokes to keep it clear of the knot. It was soft and smooth as fine silk, and the subtle fragrance of strawberry-scented shampoo was suffused on my hands as I adjusted the wadding in her mouth â€“ she sniffed and sighed contentedly. I drew her chiffon robe down off her shoulders and grazed my fingernails lightly across the bare skin. Lying there under me, she looked so fragile and feminine, and for once so serene. However, her hands were beginning to fidget. I guess it was an involuntary response; so to make sure she didnâ€™t interfere with my work, I pressed my knees against her body, pinning her arms by her side. Karen copied my action, even though Sabrina lay absolutely still.
Alex was watching us, while continuing to play with Michelleâ€™s naked bottom. He made a gesture and I brushed a few errant strands of hair away from Andreaâ€™s eyes. She must have seen the signal, because she lifted her head off the floor to make my task easier (on her, that is). We had improvised blindfolds using bra cups padded with panties â€“ rather ungainly but quite effective. I placed Andreaâ€™s across her forehead and drew it unhurriedly down over her eyes, so she could experience her vision fading slowly to darkness. But then I yanked on the straps especially hard, and as her head was jerked back once more, she grunted rather pitiably. I donâ€™t know why I did that â€“ Iâ€™m not normally sadistic, at least not when my victim is so helpless. Perhaps I was getting back at Andrea for previous slights; or maybe seeing her so adorably vulnerable was having a bewitching effect on me. (But was the cruelty my giving into the spell or resisting it? Itâ€™s a part of my nature that I have yet to fully explore.)
As she lowered her head back onto the floor, her face was reflected in the polished wooded floorboards. Her brow and cheeks speckled with tiny beads of sweat, her eyes enshrouded by the blindfold, her lips distorted by the gag, a silvery streak of spittle seeping from the corner of her mouth, she was nonetheless a vision of breathtaking loveliness. I felt something stirring in me that I rarely feel with girls.
When I eased my knee pressure, Andrea understood and placed her hands behind her back. To bind her elbows I used her own pantyhose, in fact the only pair sheâ€™d brought that weekend. It was likely to be ruined by the stretching and pulling, but so would a couple of brassieres tied together, so it was a sensible sacrifice. On the other hand, I scolded myself because I should have known better and had only brought along one pair as well â€“ one of my most expensive. Youâ€™d think that a veteran aficionado of TUGs like myself would have been better prepared. (Iâ€™m not normally a pantyhose person â€“ to me, stockings are like granny panties. But any gal as deeply into the TUGs as I am is going to have several pairs. As binding materials they are both effective and symbolic.)
I awaited Alexâ€™s instructions on how to tie the wrists. Decussate â€“ thatâ€™s crossed â€“ is easier on the shoulders and chest when your hands are bound behind your back, which is (of course!) why my brother prefers the palms together. The strain the latter puts on the front of the torso is pleasing to the eye, especially on the female form. But he was busy with Michelle, so I opted for the former. I used a single bra and was able to loop and cinch it with no effort. It was a beautiful, delicate lace design with tiny blue ribbons and pink bows and yellow blossoms, so I took extra care to not damage it. Andreaâ€™s fingers wiggled as I did so. Her skin was goosebumpy. She was trembling, and her breathing quickened through her gag. Maybe sheâ€™s like this every time sheâ€™s tied up, so I shouldnâ€™t take too much credit for her state of bliss.
When Karen was finished doing the same with Sabrina, we turned to Alex for new directions. I moved from straddling Andrea to crouching next to her. I tied her ankles, in the crossed position, with yet another bra â€“ actually one of her bikini tops, since I was running out of underwear. Then I tickled the back of her knees until she got the message and bent up her legs. I completed the manoeuvre by pushing down on her feet until her heels touched her buttocks. I used her last pair of knickers to affix her ankles to her wrists, completing the hog-tie. I ran my fingers the entire length of her sleek, lustrous calves and thighs, and she flinched... and softly moaned.
I looked across at Karen. Her nervousness had dissipated and she appeared very pleased with herself. She was gently patting Sabrinaâ€™s head and smiling proudly, if still a little self-consciously, at me, and then up at my brother. Sabrina remained absolutely tranquil and motionless, but the hemline of her chemise had ridden up as far as the small of her back, exposing a pair of frilly purple silk panties. Either she had been tensing up or struggling, causing her dress to bunch up, or possibly Karen had done it... Perhaps I had misjudged our newbie.
Karen and I knelt beside our hogtied captives, our hands clamped once more behind our heads, while Alex decided who was to be next.
To be continued...
Last edited by sarobah on Tue Jul 05, 2011 3:28 pm, edited 1 time in total.