## Threeâ€™s Company

Post by sarobah » Sun Apr 19, 2009 6:34 pm

The Tie-up Chronicles
Continuing the rewrite of my tie-up adventures. Those readers au fait with my oeuvre will notice a few minor differences between old and new, attributable to quantum fluctuations in the cerebral cortex.
5. Family Ties, Part Two: Threeâ€™s Company, A Foursome is Awesome
My best friend in high school was Rachel. She was gorgeous, one of the â€œcool chicksâ€ who always wore the right clothes, whose hair was always perfect, whose skin never broke out. She got invited to all the best parties; and wherever she went, at school, at the mall, on the beach, she was surrounded by a cloud of admirers and acolytes. Had I the relevant tendencies, I might have had a crush on her.
Although in many ways we were polar opposites, we got on well together, I think because Rachel appreciated that I never gave her the superstar treatment, and I liked her because she was... well, Rachel. And over time we absorbed a part of each otherâ€™s personalities. I became one of the â€œin-crowdâ€ and even started to develop a mild bimbo complex. Being a sizzling blonde babe with a classic bikini body and miniskirt legs didnâ€™t hurt â€“ nor my lack of humility. (Iâ€™ve often said that my only flaw is my conceit, and if I learned to be humble Iâ€™d be perfect... thatâ€™s a joke, by the way.) At the same time, under my influence Rachel became more of a free spirit. I found out recently that she is making a career for herself as a TV presenter, and I take some credit for rounding out her character.
By the time we were sweet sixteen we were virtually inseparable. We were good students as well as party girls, and we werenâ€™t overly distracted by the male sex. In fact, we disdained the very notion of boyfriends. Our rationale was: Why be content with one apple when you can have the whole tree (or in Rachelâ€™s case, the orchard)?
However, there was a fly in the ointment.
The fly was, not surprisingly, my precocious brother Alex. He and Rachel had a love-hate relationship, except without the love. Almost three years her junior, he was besotted with her, but like many a would-be lover spurned, his unrequited infatuation turned to obsession and then to scorn. Okay, Iâ€™m exaggerating; but Rachel did her best to ignore him, and there were occasions when she had to put him in his place. Unfortunately, her flirty nature meant that at times she came across as a tease, which did nothing to dampen his passion. So Alex decided that she, and I by association, needed to be taken down a peg or two. Or maybe he just wanted to tie up two hot chicks â€“ the prettiest girl in the school and his own recalcitrant big sister.
The opportunity arose one day after school. Two or three afternoons a week, Rachel and I got together for a couple of hours of study, alternating between her house and mine. My previous study buddy had been Jaz, who featured in my â€œRope Tricksâ€ story; but our partnership had been terminated by his girlfriend, who apparently didnâ€™t understand that a meeting of minds does not always entail a bumping of body parts.
On this day, we were set to study at my place. Before we got started, we went to my bedroom to change out of our uniforms. I found something for Rachel to wear â€“ we were not that much different in size. Then we settled in the living room with our books. I had a slight headache and couldnâ€™t properly focus on study. So instead we lounged on the carpet and talked about the usual girl stuff â€“ boys, music, clothes and whatnot.
Before long, Alex wandered in and switched on the television. We objected, but he ignored us and put on a DVD. It was an old episode of Wonder Woman. Alex and I both loved the show, and this particular episode was one of our favourites, because Diana Prince gets tied up twice. So Rachel and I started to watch.
Now my brother and I have conflicting versions of what happened next. My recollection is that Rachel got absorbed but began making fun of the program. She scoffed at how WoWo could end up bound by two characters she could have taken down without raising a single bead of superheroine sweat. I tried to explain that by surrendering she was demonstrating her power. Alex, being provocative, asserted that maybe she just liked it. Rachel scoffed and started getting obnoxious about â€œthe whole flaky bondage thingâ€. I could not allow that to go unchallenged; but neither she nor I caught on that we were being set up by an evil genius.
Engrossed in the story, Rachel had got off the floor and was sitting next to my brother on the sofa. As the closing credits flashed onto the screen, I decided that she needed to be taught a lesson. I seized her feet and tried to haul her off the sofa. She squealed and grabbed the closest thing, my brotherâ€™s arm. He shook free of her grasp and scampered away as I jumped up and leapt upon her. We wrestled for a moment before rolling off the sofa and tumbling onto the carpet. Though she was (slightly) bigger and stronger, instead of fighting me off, Rachel went limp and allowed me to straddle her midsection and press her shoulders to the floor. I decided that, despite her submission, she deserved a punitive tickling, so I dragged her arms to her side and pinned them there with my knees. She now realized that she was helpless and began to resist, trying to flip me off by twisting and bucking her body. She was laughing so much her eyes were brimming with tears.
Until this point Alex had been content to sit back and enjoy the chick fight, but now he saw his insidious plan coming to fruition. He disappeared into the kitchen and came back bearing a roll of paper masking tape. (Good for him â€“ Iâ€™ve always preferred that to duct tape, because it is less abrasive and irritating on the skin, though it requires more layers to make it secure.)
Rachel was still giggling, but she stared with wild eyes as my brother began pulling out a long strand of the tape. Nevertheless, when I raised myself off her, she let me turn her onto her stomach. I took hold of her wrists and could feel her pulse racing. I pulled her arms behind her back and wrapped the first strip of tape around her wrists, as Alex tore off a second. It took a few pieces to finish the job, especially as my prisoner began to struggle. I think she underestimated the strength of the tape and thought she could just pull her arms apart at will. By the time she recognized the awful truth, it was too late. She jerked her body sideways and I was thrown off, and we scuffled on the carpet. With her hands bound behind her, Rachelâ€™s resistance was feeble and futile.
My brother now decided to join the fun in a more active way. He grabbed Rachelâ€™s knees. She was caught off-guard by his sudden move and tried to kick him away; but he lay across her legs to keep them still while I taped her ankles. Once that was done, she gave up the fight. We stretched her out lengthways, still on her belly, and Alex forced a strip of tape over her mouth. She managed to pull her jaws open, and called down curses upon us, until I clamped them shut and my accomplice applied several more layers.
I lay on the floor next to my captive to study her face. She looked so sweet and innocent and helpless, hair dishevelled, big brown eyes wide and staring, nostrils flaring. She was breathing with a shallow, rapid panting and making pitiable little whimpering noises. Naturally, we had to complete the job with a hog-tie. She resumed her pointless defiance by trying to keep her legs straight. I was working hard at bending them when Alex had the bright idea of jabbing the backs of her knees with his fingernails. In reflex, she kicked up her heels. We seized her feet and forced them upwards, attaching her ankle bindings to her wrists.
When we were finished, the girl looked quite stupefied; but it was a good thing that she was properly gagged. The tape over her mouth was wrinkling and crinkling in a way which hinted at some ripe obscenities trying to work their way through. She squirmed and rolled over a couple of times, and I couldnâ€™t resist the urge to carry out some more tickle-torture. Alex wanted to tape over her eyes, but I vetoed that. Rachel had very nice eyebrows and lashes that she probably wanted to keep. He also started to mess with her clothing, but I said no to that as well. (He denies that last part.)
We left Rachel hog-tied for no more than ten minutes, as Alex and I sat on the couch making fun of her for mocking our tie-up games. Then I knelt beside her and detached her ankle bindings from her wrists. Thinking it was over, she tried to sit up; but I forced her back down. It was a spur of the moment thing that I lay over her, on my stomach, my body at right angles to hers so that we formed a cross. Rachel made a startled gurgling noise as I rested my full weight on her and put my hands behind my back.
I didnâ€™t need to say a thing. Alex obligingly bound my wrists with the tape, then my ankles, completing the job with a gag. Rachel was protesting as best she could, to no avail. She was writhing and twisting beneath my body. I knew I didnâ€™t weigh enough to hurt her arms. Anyway, I positioned myself so that the hollow of my stomach was over her hands. It was her pride that was injured. We must have looked a treat.
I donâ€™t know how long we lay there, bound and gagged one atop the other. Alex watched an entire episode of WW, so it must have been close to an hour. I was pretty much used to that. There is something about a long-duration tie-up which appeals to my abnormal psyche. After the flow of adrenaline subsides, there is an enveloping feeling of helplessness, as tension turns to tedium, which becomes an exquisite torment that doesnâ€™t dull the senses but rather heightens every sensation, intensifies every little movement. Your world sort of folds in on itself. Your horizon shrinks down to your ropes and gag and blindfold.
Of course, I am speaking only for myself. It must have been excruciating for Rachel, who had a low boredom threshold at the best of times, let alone when immobilized by tape and by the overlying body of her best friend. Alex must have caught her peeking at the TV for relief, because at around the halfway point he blindfolded us, not with the tape, of course, but with â€“ for some possibly symbolic reason that I cannot fathom â€“ two of his shirts which had an unpleasantly musty laundry hamper smell.
Seeking to amuse himself when the WW episode ended, Alex lifted me off Rachel and lay me down on the floor next to her. He removed our blindfolds so we could be eye to eye, and she was glaring into mine. After that, he took us each by the shoulders and raised us to a kneeling position, facing each other. He tried to bind us together, but the tape wouldnâ€™t stick, so he gave up and left us to extricate ourselves.
I started working at the tape around my wrists. Once I had managed to get a fingernail under the edge and began scratching away, I was able to slowly but surely cut through until, in about fifteen minutes, I was free. Watching Rachel struggle in vain, I felt sorry for her, but I nevertheless prolonged her ordeal for a while more. She deserved it.
I kept my gag on after Iâ€™d freed my hands and feet, and so did Rachel when I released her. This reassured me that she was cool with the game. We had a stimulating conversation consisting of mmmm and gmmm and mmmff, and when finally we heard my motherâ€™s car pulling into the driveway we ripped off the tape. Rachel nervously stroked her puckered lips, but out came a stick of gloss and all was again well.
Until that day Rachel was, so far as I am aware, a tie-up â€œvirginâ€. Therefore I was a little concerned what her delayed reaction would be. Over the next few she didnâ€™t talk about it, and I was afraid she was creeped out by the whole experience. Then again, I am prone to overanalyzing things, so I resolved to just put it out of my mind, unless she brought it up. Alex, on the other hand, couldnâ€™t let it go. I think heâ€™d decided by now that Rachel was out of his league and thus out of reach, but at least he had his memory of that one brief, shining moment when he got to tie up the girl who haunted his fantasies. If only heâ€™d known that he was soon to live the dream of just about any red-blooded teenage boy.
One of the girls with whom I socialized was Sandra. We were not as close as Rachel and I, but at school we were a trendsetting troika. Most Friday evenings we would go out on the town, setting the place ablaze with our short skirts, hip moves and bad attitudes. However, on the night before Sandraâ€™s birthday, we were having a girlâ€™s night in at my house. My parents had gone to see a show, and left us with Alex and a pizza delivery. My brother undertook to confine himself to his bedroom with his Playstation if we allowed him to select the pizza toppings. His choice was fit for neither man nor beast and therefore ideally suited to his own taste; but he thereupon refused to honour his promise and established himself in the living room.
â€œIâ€™m the man of the house,â€ he declared.
So Rachel, Sandra and I retreated to my room, leaving him the unchallenged master of his domain. Yet it did not take long for him to come banging on my door. He burst in, no doubt expecting to find his three pyjama party girls pillow-fighting in lace teddies and frilly baby-dolls. He was sorely disappointed and hid it not at all. He skulked out of the room under verbal bombardment.
Not long after that, however, Rachel and I began wresting each other and tried to tie each other up with whatever we could find. I donâ€™t recall what set us off, but it may have had something to do with my brotherâ€™s incursion and the memory of that afternoon a few months before. In any case, Sandra sat back and watched us rolling and bouncing on the bed, not knowing whether to intervene, and if she did, on whose side.
Then came the critical moment. I had Rachel face down, but she was starting to wriggle free, so I yelled out: â€œAlex, hereâ€™s your chance!â€
I should have known that my brother was lurking within earshot. There was a pounding on the floorboards as he came stomping up the stairs and storming into the room. Rachel groaned â€œNot again!â€ and Sandra gave us all a very strange look. However, I immediately regretted my impulse and snarled at a mystified Alex to back off. He retreated, and Rachel taunted him by showing off her hands, half-bound with a pillow case. Yet what then occurred was one of those bizarre episodes you look back on and ask yourself: Did it really happen like that?
I said, â€œLetâ€™s take this downstairsâ€ and vaulted off the bed and out the door. I led the way to the kitchen where I made coffee (probably the last thing four hyped-up teenagers needed at that moment). Everyone was bemused, most of all Alex for whom a never-to-be-repeated opportunity appeared to be slipping away. As for myself, I was cognizant that Iâ€™d entered â€œthe zoneâ€ â€“ that freaky, single-minded state which precedes many of my best tie-up adventures.
We were sitting at the dining room table sipping our coffee when, acting upon the urge, I got up and went around to stand behind Rachel. Her eyes and then her head followed my movement until she could see me no more, but she didnâ€™t get up. I drew her hands behind her back and tied them with a tea towel. She didnâ€™t protest or resist, just grinned impishly when it was done; but suddenly she leapt out of her seat and made a dash for the living room. I tackled her and we went crashing to the carpet. Fortunately for Rachel, without her hands free to break her fall, she landed on top of me. It was a rather silly thing for me to do and I was momentarily winded.
Everything then got stranger, as I said (or wheezed, still breathless): â€œItâ€™s tie-up time.â€
My quick-thinking brother raced back to the kitchen and returned with the masking tape, very likely the same roll he had used on Rachel and me that first time. Sandra, motionless at the table, watched him in silent apprehension, until I, sitting on the floor with Rachel, beckoned for her to join us. Amazingly, she did so. (Iâ€™ve wondered, since then, if she had a â€œhistoryâ€ I was not aware of.)
I lay on my stomach and Rachel did also, next to me. I told Sandra to do the same, and she hesitated for just a second or two. With an â€œoh what the heckâ€ hmmm, she lay beside me opposite Rachel. When I said to put her hands behind her back, she giggled nervously but obeyed.
Alex started with Rachel, removing her tea towel tie, which had come loose anyway, and replacing it with tape. He bound her ankles, and she whispered something inaudible just before her gag went on. He then moved on to me. There was just enough room between our bodies that he could crouch between us to do the job properly. He proceeded to put me into one of my most stringent ever hog-ties. As well as my wrists and ankles, he also taped my knees and elbows, much tighter than I was used to. Once I was properly bound, he straddled my backside to apply my gag. His dead weight on my feet and hands wrenched my arms backwards until it felt like they would be torn out of their sockets. I grunted loudly â€“ not the most elegant of sounds â€“ but when Alex said â€œToo tight?â€ I dismissed him with a testy â€œGet on with it!â€
I think my brother was assessing my limits in order to gauge how receptive the other girls would be.
The style of gagging was a new one for me. Alex instructed me to open my mouth, and he used the first two strips of tape as a cleave gag before sticking several more pieces over my entire mouth. It was rather uncomfortable; but very effective. My last words to Alex were to remind him to be gentle â€“ not in applying the tape (too late for that), but in taking it off.
My brother then returned to Rachel, although I saw she got off with a less severe hog-tie than mine. In the meantime, Sandra was incredible. While Rachel and I were being dealt with, she lay on the carpet, face down, hands behind her back, waiting patiently and silently for her turn to come. This was several minutes, and at any time she could have simply got up and ended her part in the game. She never spoke a word, but watched her friends being bound and gagged with an enigmatic smile, which made me again wonder if maybe she was not the novice Iâ€™d believed she was.
I should also pay tribute to my brother, who handled the situation with aplomb. How many 14 year-old boys would have the cojones to take control the way he had and methodically tie up three older girls, including his sister, with hardly a whimper of protest from his captives? Furthermore, he worked with alacrity, knowing that at any moment any of us â€“ in particular Sandra â€“ might balk and bring the game to an end. For even my obstreperous little brother was not so foolhardy as to try tying up three unwilling victims.
I thought he would go easy on Sandra, just as I was afraid that she would panic and the fun would be over. I was wrong on both accounts. She gasped and groaned as she was being bound. However, she was a gymnast, and her supple body gave her a flexibility which made her hog-tie less strenuous than Rachelâ€™s and mine. She started to relax, testing her bonds but showing no sign of pain or apprehension.
Nevertheless, when Alex held a strip of tape in front of her face, she screeched, â€œYouâ€™re not putting anything in my mouth!â€ Alex promised he wouldnâ€™t, but she insisted, â€œI wonâ€™t make a sound, I swear.â€ He ignored her plea, but he contented himself with a single strip across her lips.
My brotherâ€™s work complete, his three bound captives lay in a row on the living room carpet. Sandraâ€™s and my heads were turned to face each other, and her I donâ€™t believe this is happening expression was priceless. â€œLook straight ahead,â€ Alex growled.
Although he had us at his mercy, Alexâ€™s interest began to wane once we were helpless. It could hardly have been otherwise. There was not much more he was able to do. So he left us to squirm on the carpet for a long time. This was â€“ as Iâ€™ve mentioned â€“ part of the game for me, but Rachel and Sandra didnâ€™t seem to mind much either. My biggest concern was that our parents would come home early and Alex wouldnâ€™t have had time to free us. Explanations would have taken some interesting turns, no doubt.
However, eventually and inevitably, the game ended. Sandra sighed in relief as the tape was peeled off. Alex did a good job in making sure the process was gentle and painless, and I was proud of him. Since I had suffered the most, when I was released and tried to stand up, I almost collapsed. I had to be steadied and assisted to the sofa. Still I couldnâ€™t complain, any more than a marathon runner complains at the finish line. (I actually ran a half-marathon once â€“ I will take two hours of being tied up over those two hours of agony any time.) My brother simply gave me a serves you right look, and I donâ€™t think I got much more sympathy from my girlfriends. Alex gathered up the bundle of used tape and took it away. I donâ€™t know where he stowed it or if my mother ever wondered what happened to the roll of masking tape she kept under the kitchen sink.
The rest of the night was remarkably unremarkable. After our parents came in, Alex and I accompanied Rachel and Sandra as they walked home. He played the hero, protecting his three damsels from whatever perils lurked in the moonlight shadows. From Dick Dastardly to Sir Galahad in a single eveningâ€¦ only my brother.
Some more tie-up adventures lay in store for Rachel, but I donâ€™t know about Sandra. We never talked about what transpired that Friday night, except in a few oblique references, but she seemed cool about the whole thing. In fact, I think she may have liked sharing what was, to her, our little guilty secret. When we passed Alex in the schoolyard, they exchanged some meaningful looks.
Not long afterwards, largely due to Sandraâ€™s influence, Rachel and I each acquired that second most important of a girlâ€™s fashion accessories, a studly boyfriend. Matthew, who asked me out for the first time at Sandraâ€™s birthday party, was soon immersed in the weird and wacky World of Sarah. As for my brother, he tied me up just once more after that Friday night. Then it was time to move on from childhood games.
****
FYI: Rachel appears in my Webshots file. She's the one in the centre with the shortish hair, but it's intentionally not a very clear picture.
http://good-times.webshots.com/photo/2327804990103831875rmUzBt
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

### Re: Threeâ€™s Company

Post by hvspcst » Mon Apr 20, 2009 8:32 am

Sarah, always a pleasure reading you
Did you actually discuss the childhood tie up games with anyone at the time? Like, your brother, or Rachel? Actually talk about it?

### Re: Threeâ€™s Company

Post by sarobah » Mon Apr 20, 2009 8:36 pm

> hvspcst wrote:Did you actually discuss the childhood tie up games with anyone at the time? Like, your brother, or Rachel? Actually talk about it?

Not really. Considering how much I like to talk and overanalyse things, believe me thatâ€™s quite an achievement.
Trying not to get too philosophical â€“ Letâ€™s face it, for many folks, TUGs are still very much non-mainstream. So I thought that there are some things that are better just doing than talking about. With doing comes understanding... or something like that.
~ Sarah
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

### Re: Threeâ€™s Company

Post by bondagefan » Tue Apr 21, 2009 1:26 am

are there any pic of you tied-up?

### Re: Threeâ€™s Company

Post by sarobah » Tue Apr 21, 2009 1:47 am

> bondagefan wrote:are there any pic of you tied-up?

The only extant pictorial evidence of my TUGs (AFAIK) are a couple of historical ones â€“ a mediaeval party and an ancient Roman slave market. Theyâ€™re on slides (the old-fashioned kind) and Iâ€™m looking for a cheap and effective way of digitizing them. Even if I had more recent stuff, Iâ€™m not sure Iâ€™d want them published. Maybe when society is more enlightened...
~ Sarah
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

### Re: Threeâ€™s Company

Post by hvspcst » Thu Apr 23, 2009 4:57 am

I hope not. The forbidden fruit is sweeter...