Babysitting Blues

Postby EvilSweep » Tue Oct 24, 2017 8:26 am

Given my present situation, bound, gagged and struggling to stay afloat among a sea of scatter cushions and soft furnishings, most people would probably have given in to panic. However all I could think of was how foolish I'd been to allow myself to have been tricked so easily. 
And by a girl almost half my age no less. 
I was sitting on an overstuffed couch in the family room of my best friend whose Sister I was currently babysitting (in the loosest sense of the word)
Almost out of professional curiosity I tried to work my hands free by loosening the necktie’s at my wrists but gave up almost immediately when my efforts garnered no reward. After all, struggling like a wild animal caught in a trap felt a little ignoble, not to mention it would likely ruin my outfit. 
I decided instead to bear my captivity in as dignified manner as possible.
My gag, (which was equally snug) was a white bandanna wrapped tightly between my teeth and around my head. As someone who took a great deal of pride in my appearance, I was beginning to resent the dampness of the material around my cheeks as the saliva began to saturate the scarf.
I began to recall all the old TV shows that had featured a prominent bound and gagged damsel. My favorite heroines had always been the ones who reacted to their plight with something approaching benign indifference, as though they could somehow extract themselves from their bonds with a simple flick of the wrist, or a witty rejoinder. 
As befitting my, somewhat exact personality I tend to dress in a quiet, understated fashion. For instance, today I was wearing a sheer burgundy long sleeved blouse with the collar fastened and a printed skirt. 
With my predilection for starched and somewhat demure outfits I often get accused of dressing like a librarian (among other things) but I find that my slender frame, long neck and black rimmed glasses work really well with the whole 'buttoned-up look'. Also I grew up idolizing Gillian Anderson's role in the X-Files, so it's probably no wonder the FBI aesthetic appeals to me. In fact, it was during a family vacation to Vancouver that I insisted that we make a brief stop at Frouse mountain so I could see the location where Dana Scully was kidnapped in an episode of the show. Once there I begged my parents to help me recreate the scene and eventually I was able to persuade them to let me climb into the boot of the rental car where I was tied up and photographed just like my idol. 
It's something of a relief that this impromptu shoot happened in an era before social media as this picture would almost certainly have led to a staged intervention from social services,..
But back to the problem at hand, I glanced around the room and noticed my handbag perched on the dining table. In it, buried somewhere among the detritus, was my phone.
The solution was obvious, but how to get there with my hands and feet bound?
How indeed?
Deciding that she who hesitates is lost I wriggled myself around until I could swing my bound legs off the couch and boldly leaned forward. Slowly raising myself up to my full 5' 9 height I decided to limit myself to moving one hop at a time. 
I began with a few, small tentative jumps. 
I found that it was extremely difficult to balance without the use of my hands, but after I completed a few successful movements across the floor (taking care to maneuver around a half-completed jigsaw) I found myself beginning to grow in confidence.  
After a while my technique (such as it was) became really quite adept (even if I do say so myself) although I could only imagine how ridiculous I looked bouncing along the carpeted floor like some kind of S & M loving marsupial in an unconvincing wig. 
Actually, I didn't have to imagine. There I was, reflected in the full length antique mirror above the fire place. 
I called a temporary halt to my journey through the minefield of toy bricks in order to study my appearance in the polished glass. 
It felt so strange to see myself like this, almost an out of body experience. 
The first thing I noticed was that having my hands tied behind me had the unforeseen benefit of making my breasts seem far perkier and decidedly more prominent than usual. 
“This is not entirely unpleasant,..” I thought to myself.
Meanwhile, the white between my teeth (which was now almost completely saturated with saliva) made my cheeks seem a little chubby where the gag went around them. I was equally surprised to discover the effect of this was almost sultry. 
I began to imagine myself as the bright young ingénue from a silent movie serial.
I was Foxy Shazam, a bright, impulsive journalist who had been kidnapped by art thieves,
or Sammatha King, a headstrong fighter pilot abducted by mindless savages from the center of the Earth,..
It was like playing dress-up as an adult. 
I found myself striking poses as though looking down the lens of a camera like some-kind of glamorous catwalk model. It was almost as though my ropes and gag were the latest fashion accessories. 
Finally however, the real world reasserted itself once more and I was forced to return to the matter in hand, namely retrieving my phone,..

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity I was finally back on dry land/ the sofa clutching the handset.
There really was only one call I could make.
Fortunately, years spent surreptitiously operating my phone during class meant that I was more than capable of send a text message behind my back.
Channeling my inner Jimi Hendrix I tapped out the missive,
“Your Sister has taken me hostage. Please come and rescue me. xx”
and breathlessly pressed “Send”
At the thought of Emily rushing across town to rescue me I felt a twinge of anticipation. I was no longer angry, or even frustrated at my plight. I was excited. 
I settled back into the welcoming arms of the sofa, a gleeful, playful smile playing behind my gag.

I had been clock watching for a little over half an hour when I finally heard the back door open. For a moment I couldn't see who had entered the den and my pulse was racing. 
What if it was the parents, arrived home early from the theater? How would I possibly explain how I had been overpowered and tied up by a twelve year old girl?
Fortunately something in the heavy footsteps told me that it was Emily (Doc Martin’s being very much her signature footwear) and I was instantly flooded with relief, in fact I found myself bouncing up and down in the seat in anticipation.
And finally, there she was, my very own dashing, if somewhat diminutive matinee idol, dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a checked shirt.
I attempted to compose myself, choosing to adopt an amused, slightly haughty expression, to whit that of a damsel who did not like to be kept waiting. Emily meanwhile, stood bolted to the ground.
Was she pleased to see me? Her expression was proving somewhat hard to read. 
In fact, if pressed I would suggest that he looked a little like a bulldog attempting to master long division.
Finally an amused smile played across the corner of her lips.
“Having fun?”

“Hhw ghhld nhh tmll? (How could you tell?)

“An educated guess”

“Enjoying the view?” I asked as she unhooked my gag

“You do make a very fetching damsel in distress,..” She said hungrily.

“You silver tonged devil you. I take it this was all your idea?” I said, wriggling in my bonds.

“Me?! I’m hurt” Emily replied sounding anything but.

“So you had nothing to do with me spending the last hour bound and gagged like some second rate Super-heroine”

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothing],..” She admitted

“Ah, ha!” I said pouncing on her mistake “J'Accuse!”

“Ha, ha! Okay, I’ll admit that when Lilly told me that she wanted to practice her knot tying for the girl guides your name may have come up,..”

“May?!” I asked incredulously

“Fine, it did. But it was definitely her idea to tie you up,..”

I raised an eye brow

“Let me put that another way, it was definitely my idea to tie you up”

“And finally we get to the Sinister truth” I said in my best, cod French accent (which was, admittedly more Clouseau than Poirot)

“Okay, okay it’s a fair Cop. But I guess the real question is this, just what exactly does the great Detective plan to do about it whilst she’s all tied up,..?”

My options appeared somewhat limited.
At this point I reached for cliché.
“I demand you place yourself under arrest and release me at once”

“You want me to arrest myself and then untie you?” Emily asked pointedly.

“You know what I mean Madam” I snapped, desperately trying to reassert my authority whilst maintaining my Gaelic accent.

“Hmm, I’ve got another idea,..” Emily teased planting herself on the sofa cushion next to me.

“Emily, what are you doing?!” I asked frantically as she lifted my bound legs and placed my feet in her lap.

“Nothing,..” She said as she removed my left sock “Why, do you think I should?”

“Em” I pleaded, “Please don’t. You know I’m ticklish,.. please,..”
However before Emily could carry out her infernal plot a pair of car headlights in the window indicated that her parents had returned early from the theater.
Scrambling frantically we just about managed to get me free and conceal the evidence before the door opened

“Next time you won’t be quite so lucky” Emily whispered suggestively in my ear just as her Mother and Father appeared in the hallway,..
The rest of this game would just have to wait.

Re: Babysitting Blues

Postby xtc » Tue Oct 24, 2017 8:58 am

A well related first post.
Welcome aboard.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

Re: Babysitting Blues

Postby CHillDice » Wed Oct 25, 2017 6:08 pm

Nice. Very cute and fun story....more please!!
You got to ro ooo ooll me, and call me THE TUMBLING DICE!!!

Re: Babysitting Blues

Postby solarbeast34 » Wed Oct 25, 2017 7:34 pm

Great story, and interestingly written. I can't wait to hear what these characters have in store for them in the future.

Re: Babysitting Blues

Postby fratboydanny » Sun Oct 29, 2017 12:19 pm

Thanks for writing and posting this fun story! Welcome to the Board.