Postby HushedPuppy » Sat Apr 15, 2017 4:37 am
I too love this scenario. I was tied up with partners a few times, but if were u and I we would be in jeans and flannelette shirts. I'd be barefoot. We would drive to a farmhouse looking for a guy who owed u money. I'd wait in the car while you went in. The radio would be loud and drown out the raised voices in the barn.
After twenty minutes I'd walk in, and I'd see you tied, hands behind your back, hessian rope wrapped around your body, fastening you to the chair. You would see me and be straining your legs, which would be tied at thigh, knees and ankles to the chair. You would be frantically trying to warn me, wideeyed, and groaning under an extremely thick red bandanna that is tied between your mouth. "Mmmm mmm".
"What the hell is going o...mmmmph". I began as a female hand clamps over my mouth. I feel cold steel pressed against my temple, and hear a gun being clicked". "Don't struggle" a husky female voice orders. A male walking over with another gun walks casually over. "Your friend came in here bothering me about some petty debt. Threatening court and calling the police and all this bother. The wife here and I are leaving town, so we figured we would "settle outta" court". "No one needs the police." agrees the woman pushing toward you. The husband pulls another chair close to you. He tosses her a coil of rope. "Now, we had to gag your friend cos he would not stop shouting, but tell you what, if you keep quiet when I take my hand off your mouth and you keep quiet and don't struggle while I tie you up, I'll consider leaving one of you". "Mmmmm mmmm" you begin saying, but the meaning is lost. "Shut up!" shouts the man.
I nod compliantly. She begins using the rope and I obediently let her tie me up as her husband keeps the gun trained on me. You look at me as I turn away, but I lower my gaze, refusing to look at you, being ashamed how easily I capitulated. My hands are in front of me. The wife explains to the husband when he asks about it that it's to stop us from untying each other hands. My hands are numb after a couple of minutes. She soon has my thighs, knees and ankles tied to the chair frame. I'm struck by how restrictive and tightly I'm tied. She ties a rope around my wrists and attaches it to my ankles.
As she reaches for more rope I try raising my hands, but the rope keeps them in my lap. Unstatsfied she ties rope over my wrists and lashes them to my thighs and the seat. She then pulls up a long length of rope and binds my chest and waist to the chair. She asks for two scarfs. " I thought you weren't gonna gag me?" I ask. "Relax. I'm blindfolding y'all. Beats a gag right?" I agree meekly as she ties a wide, red patterned bandanna over your eyes.
She pulls a blue bandanna over my eyes, and my vision goes dark as I feel her knotting it behind my head. My sense of touch heightened, I can feel straw and dirt on the floor underneath my bare feet. I scrunch my toes in an effort to get circulation to my feet in opposition to the harsh tight cords. "Help me put them back to back", the wife asks. Rough hands rock me next to you. I can hear you breathing quickly under your gag. Rope begins lashing our bodies together. I can hear the woman walking around in the barn. They are whispering, but I can him saying they will drive your car out of town, and dump it as they leave. He concludes by saying he will put the phones they took of us in the car, to further delay any attempts to find us. The rope around us adds an extra degree of discomfort, if one of us moves, the other person gets compressed by the rope. We both learn to try and sit still.
I hear someone coming near again. A hand pinches my nostrils shut. I involuntarily open my mouth. "Wha... mmmngg". I manage, as a rough ball of cloth, which feels like a piece of hessian sack, invade my mouth. The hands move quickly, tying a thick bandanna between my teeth. The betrayal dawns on me just as she has finished knotting my gag tightly behind my head. "Mmmmm nnn" I shout, angrily. " Haha. You did nt really think we would leave one of you able to shout for help did you? I mean sure there's no one around for miles, but we want a lot of distance between us and the time someone finds you". "Mmmnnn" you groan, disappointed.
They go outside, we can hear them rummaging thru your car. "Mmmmmnnn" you begin. I can't understand you, but you were trying to tell me, you told me it was pointless going along with them." "Mmmmmm" you continue ( you are trying to tell me I should have ran). "Mmmmmmnnnn" I respond, trying to say "what I can't hear you under the gag". It's equally incomprehensible to you. We go back and forth for s couple of minutes, and frustrated by our inability to understand one another, we fail to hear our captors return.
"Chatty ain't they?" asks the husband. "I can fix that" a female voice responds. Another, thicker bandanna, is tied over my mouth, and tightened and knotted at back of my head. My cheeks buckle inward under the pressure. "You guys are fucked now", the husband laughs, she only triple gags the real troublemakers".
I hear you struggling as she ties yours. "These guys are definitely trouble, she agrees, but I've fixed your wagons good now huh, fellas?". "Mmmm" you respond to her taunting, and it's clear that in addition to our gags making us impossible to understand, the new layer will stop us from being heard. "See, no one, not even outside this barn is gonna hear ya now" the husband offers. "Good job honey", I can hear them kissing. "Now, stay put. We are gonna take your car and the beer in it, thanks for that boys". "We will put an anonymous call in when we are far enough away, and let the cops know where to find ya. In the meantime, sit tight. It should be at least 12 hours before we make that call".
Footsteps subside. The barn door shuts. A car starts, followed by another. The added indignity of having your car stolen jolts you into action. "Mmmmmmm". You beginnthrashing your head side to side, yelling and twisting against your bonds, as the cars recede. The rope burns and cuts into my flesh, and I begin angrily trying to tell you to cut it out. "Mmmmm". Pretty soon it dawns on us that our screams are really muffled. We give up trying to tell to people who are no longer there. We begin the phase of trying to loosen our ropes. We try to talk to each other, strategically trying to help ourselves with our ligatures. I try saying stuff like, "did you see anything when you came in that we could cut the ropes with". All that comes out of faint, garbled vowels. You do the same, and it goes back and forth until after a while, the futility of us not being able to talk to one another has us give up. We continue writhing, the only groans coming out of us now, being caused by effort or the pain of rope cutting into our skin. After 30'or so minutes, we are drenched in sweat, but if anything our ropes seem tighter. I give up first, and trying to plead with you to stop, "mmmmm" "mmmmm". You keep going, and begin rocking our chairs. The chair legs scrap on the floor as you move. I begin timing it with you, and we both time our efforts with little grunts. "Mmmm" (one) "mmmm" (two) "mmmmm" (three). Then we rock. The blindfolds mean we have absolutely no idea where we are going, but it gives us small sense of being less helpless.
"Mmmm" "mmmm" "mmmmm" scrape!
"Mmm" "mmmm" "mmmmm" scrape!
i can barely feel the dislodged hay sweeping past my feet as we rock.
Then, in our desperation, we go too hard. My feet are yanked off the cold concrete covered in hay and dirt, and we totter on four legs for several precarious seconds. After what seems like an eternity, you lean back and we unceremoniously land with all eight legs back back on the floor.
No more needs to be said. We both implicitly would prefer being sat upright then the cold, dirty haystrewn floor. You detectedly go limp. I relax. I can feel sweat all over my body, dropping down the rope. I couple of drops land on my feet and I trace patterns in the dirt with my numb toes, trying to stave off the boredom of sensory deprivation. I can feel the bandannas pushing against my face, and all the saliva repelled by my hessian sack has soaked through my cleave gag, and the drool has created a thick patch in the other bandanna around my mouth. I can hear crickets beginning to chirp. I find myself trying to figure out how long we have been tied up. I find myself hopefully overestimating, before inpragmatically underestimate. I don't want to get my hopes up. The airbgets colder. I bury as much of my feet under hay and dirt as I can to keep them warm. I begin thinking, "what if they were lying and don't call anyone? She lied about gagging me after all". Time starts to stand still. I hear night time sounds. Stillness and owls calling.
