I HAVE TRIED TO POST THIS IN TRUE TUGS BUT THE POST NEW TOPIC BUTTON DOES NOT APPEAR IN THIS SECTION!!
Having been a long-time lurker on this site, it’s high time I made a contribution of my own by recounting the true story of the event that I’m sure was responsible for igniting my interest in F/M bondage. It happened when I was a rather cocky 15-year-old at a school in England, in the early 90s. My teacher’s unusual form of punishment was certainly illegal but it was harmless enough and I had, after all, placed myself in the awkward position of reluctantly asking for it as you will see…
Our French teacher Miss Beauchene was a plain though not unattractive woman in her early thirties with fairly short dark hair and a petite figure. She was a little shy and hopeless at enforcing discipline which I always took advantage of by constantly misbehaving and acting the fool.
On one particular day I was caught by Miss Beauchene hiding behind the desks of two classmates while crawling to the other side of the room to get a magazine from a friend she had earlier separated me from. In exasperation she gave me an after-school detention for two days later – an afternoon which would clash with a school football match in which I had been picked to play and definitely did not want to miss!
At the end of the lesson, after the rest of the class had left, I sauntered over to Miss Beauchene and casually told her that I would not be able to serve detention on that day due to the match.
“I am not in least interested,” she replied, with more assertiveness than usual. “I do not negotiate with unruly pupils. You will come to detention on Thursday.”
When I persisted that it was an important match and that the sports teacher would not want me to miss it, she seemed to sense that she was gaining the upper hand in the conversation.
“So – what day would be convenient for you?” she asked with a smile, which totally baffled me.
“Er…well tomorrow would be best,” I replied.
“And if I allow you to serve your detention tomorrow, will you behave in my class in future?”
“Definitely, Miss,” I lied.
“Bon,” she said, “but if I agree to your request you will have to promise something else.”
“What?” I asked.
“I think you will need some encouragement to behave,” she said nonchalantly. “And since you are so fond of fidgeting and talking in class, you will permit me to bind and gag you so that you have no choice but to remain still and silent. What do you say?” She said this last statement with a rather smug smile and a distinct sparkle in her eyes.
To say I was astonished would be an understatement. All I could think of by way of reply was a rather lame statement to the effect that she couldn’t make me do that.
“Of course I can’t,” she laughed. “I shall only do it if you ask me to. If not, you can come to detention on Thursday and write out some French verbs while you miss your precious football match.”
I thought about it. It would be a bizarre and humiliating punishment which was clearly her way of getting even with me for being a constant thorn in her side during class – but it seemed a price worth paying so I reluctantly agreed.
And so it was that on the following day I presented myself rather sheepishly to Miss Beauchene in an otherwise empty classroom after school. She was writing some French verbs on the whiteboard when I entered and turned to smile at me.
“Tres bien! Sit down, s’il vous plait.”
I went to sit down at a nearby desk when she stopped me and indicated the floor where her own desk was. “Mais non! Since you are so fond of being on the floor during my class you can sit here.”
“Whatever.” I was determined to act with as much as bravado as I could muster and reluctantly complied while Miss Beauchene walked over to the door and locked it.
As I sat on the floor with my back to the front leg of her desk, I looked up to see Miss Beauchene take a selection of belts and scarves from her bag which she proceeded to arrange on the seat of her chair next to me. She picked up a long flimsy scarf, stepped over my legs – affording me the closest view I had ever had of her own slim nylon-clad legs emerging from the hem of a knee-length dress – and crouched down behind me. She took my hands, placed them behind the table leg and proceeded to wrap them in the scarf, which she then knotted with a flourish. Instinctively, I tried to separate my hands, which I was unable to do. The restraint felt snug rather than tight but there was definitely no give.
Miss Beauchene now stood and moved in front of me to crouch by my knees. This time I was treated to an even better view of her legs as the hem of her dress slid up along her thighs.
She took a belt, which looked like it had come from a dress or robe, looped it around my thighs and buckled it. A second belt was wrapped twice around my ankles and similarly secured. My next adornment was another scarf, which she thread through the belt around my ankles before connecting it tautly to a radiator pipe in front of beneath the whiteboard. My legs were now stretched out together in front of me and I couldn’t move them in the slightest.
She smiled at me, patted my legs and reached for another belt. I had no idea where this one was going until she stood once more and repositioned herself behind me to wrap the belt around my upper arms, pinning my shoulders back and holding them firmly against the leg of the desk.
“Voila!” she said, rising again and moving forward to look down at me with an evidently satisfied smirk. “Now you can fidget as much as you like!”
She bent down to pick up the remaining items from the seat of her chair – two more flimsy scarves.
“And now, since you are unable to refrain from talking in class, I will help you to remain silent.” She wadded up the smaller of the scarves and crouched down in front of me again, holding it in front of my mouth. “Open wide, s’il vous plait.”
I complied and she positively beamed as she prodded the balled up material into my mouth. My eyes were drawn to her lap as she placed the second scarf across her knees and proceeded to roll it into a sausage shape. By now it wasn’t only my humiliation that was growing…
She reached up to pull the scarf between my lips, took the ends behind my neck and pulled my head forward a little so could make an efficient knot at the back.
I sighed and looked away as she ruffled my hair and stood again. “Now you are the perfect, well-behaved pupil.”
I glared at her as she stepped elegantly over my now bound legs and sat in her chair next to me.
“In half an hour I will hide the verbs on the board and remove the scarf from your mouth and you will have the opportunity to recite them to me. If you are unable to do so, the gag will go back and you will have another half hour to learn them. I imagine it would be most uncomfortable to be tied up in that position for an hour, so I recommend you pay attention and concentrate.” Her lithe legs were then lost from view as she propelled her chair forward under her desk to go through some papers.
For the next 30 minutes I remained immobile and uncomfortable while I did my best to memorise the boring French verbs on the whiteboard in on the wall in front of me. Miss Beauchene said nothing but I was aware of her glancing down at me every few minutes or so, presumably to check that I wasn’t suffering from cramp or something.
When the half hour was up, Miss Beauchene closed a book and pushed her chair back and around to face me. Again I had a close-up of those beautiful legs as she placed a hand under my chin and tilted my head up towards her.
“So…do you think you have memorised the verbs?”
I nodded eagerly. My back and legs were aching and I desperately wanted to be freed.
Miss Beauchene stood up and went to the whiteboard, rolling it up until the verbs vanished from view.
She sat down again and reached down to untie the scarf and remove the wadded one from my mouth. With a swish of nylon she crossed her legs and sat back confidently. This was a very different and assertive Miss Beauchene compared to the one I knew before.
“Maintenant – proceed. The verb To Be.”
Suffice to say Miss Beauchene’s style of enforced learning proved to be extremely successful. I recited all the verbs with only one error, resulting in the promised release from my bonds.
As I rubbed my wrists she folded her arms and smirked at me. “Would you like to do this every week? “
“No, Miss,” I muttered.
“Tres bien! Then I can expect you to be a most attentive pupil from now on, oui? No talking, no fidgeting and no crawling about on the floor like a baby?”
“No, Miss…I mean yes, Miss.”
“Very well,” she said, unlocking the door to let me out, “you may go. And I hope you win your football match tomorrow!”
Looking back on that day, as I often have, I realise that while the experience was an erotic one for me (at least it was until it became uncomfortable) for Miss Beauchene I suspect it was merely a means of gaining the upper hand over an arrogant pupil by asserting her control in a manner which she knew would be both humiliating and crushing.
Unfortunately that was my first and only bondage experience so any further stories will have to go in the fiction section!