The Escapologists by Limey (FF/F M/F F/FF)

Have a link to other website featuring like minded stories? Post them here. Be sure to follow board rules when posting links.

Moderator: Archiver

Pfaster
Forum Contributer
Forum Contributer
Posts: 7
Joined: 5 years ago

The Escapologists by Limey (FF/F M/F F/FF)

Post by Pfaster »

This is a story from another dead site called Tied and True Tales. This one and a lot of others are recoverable from the WayBackMachine, but alas not all of them. This one is one of my favorite stories ever.
I did not write it, and if I crossed some guidelines or the original author wishes it removed then please do so.

The Escapologists

by Limey
I'd always found a fascination with restraints of all kinds although, of late with the passage of time, the excitement begins to dim. Of course, every now and then, a film on TV shows a damsel in difficulty with sundry villains and my interest momentarily waxes; but the sheer amateurism of the depiction soon turns wax into wane.

Not that I ever did it professionally; the thought of travelling constantly from town to town and living perpetually out of a suitcase was sufficient to dampen any enthusiasm in that direction and, anyway, I prefer a steady paid income.

It has to be said too that, as an amateur escapologist, friends and relatives or an ad hoc audience are much easier to impress and, as an added attraction, the act does not have to be approved by some fat cigar-smoking self-appointed impresario. But there was a price and I surely paid it; I never found a girl who shared my enthusiasm. It would have been wonderful if one had come along who wanted to join me in the act but, if she exists, she never crossed my path. Every one of those that tolerated my besottedness got bored waiting for me to escape and performed their own form of escapology.

That is how I come to spend my waning days living in a small one-person apartment on a retirement pension and with only one companion full of memories - namely, my trunk full of the impedimenta of my art. Mistake me not, spare me your smiles, for it is as much an art as a science. Like any magician's act, escapology is a matter of preparation and careful rehearsal, of leading the audience to see what they expect to see rather than what their eyes truly tell them. Above all though, it demands a level of physical fitness, strength and stamina that comes only with regular workouts at the gym and so, in my sixties, I am still above average when it comes to taking care of myself.

Almost every day I am cruelly reminded of what I sacrificed to my craze; in the apartment next to mine, just a few yards along the landing, lives Jaline Cressidy. Yes, it is a strange name and I have no idea from where her parents dredged it. When first she introduced herself, I thought she said Eileen, then I decided it was Aileen but finally, with a grin, she put me right. Every time I look at her, I find myself ready to offer any sacrifice, could I but shed thirty of fourty years. A body to die for, below-the-shoulder length shiny honey-blonde hair, big blue eyes that can widen to the size of dinner plates and a persona that could charm a merry laugh out of a drain cover.

The walls of this building were not meant to do anything other than block a direct line of vision and so I hear her rich voice raised in laughter and chatter with a couple of girl-friends who visited her often. Whatever it was that they did it seemed to cause endless repartee and laughter and some strange sounds which I interpreted as most probably giggling. Obsessed? Not really. I have no delusions about the age gap nor indeed the inclination but, living right next door with daily sightings and almost nightly hearings, it was perhaps pleasant to realise that I had not yet died.

Then came that Saturday evening which is the point of this rambling. It was about a quarter-to-six and I was thinking about watching the news on TV. I'd made a pot of tea and dumped the paraphernalia on the chair-side table in front of the tv and went back to the kitchen to fetch the new cake. There came a knock on my door. Well, it wasn't exactly a knock - more like somebody was kicking the door. I took the precaution of standing well back and a little to one side as I opened it.

Surprise isn't quite the correct word. Outside my door stood a red-faced, very embarassed and largely unclothed copy of my neighbour, Jaline. Apart from her near nudity she had a pale-blue ball-gag jammed in her mouth, she was holding her hands behind her back and she sported long-chain handcuffs on her ankles. Just to complete the picture her long luxurious hair was tied back in a loose pigtail with an enormous bow of red ribbon; so enormous it looked at first glance as though she were sprouting wings! Some of the hair had escaped the ribbon and it leant her an air of child-like unruly innocence which I find difficult to describe.

"My dear girl... " She looked anxiously in both directions along the landing and her problem being somewhat obvious, I reached with both hands to help her inside and closed the door. Slipping easily into the role of a DOM, I buried both hands in that beautiful hair and traced the strap of the gag, found the buckle and gently removed the thing.

While she worked her jaw and licked a pair of bone dry lips, I carried her the few paces to my chair and poured a cup of tea. I held it for her while first she took a few sips then drank about half. "Thanks," she said. "That thing gets to be bloody awful after half an hour."

"What's going on? Who did this to you?"

"Those two crazy friends of mine. Thought it was very funny to fix me up and leave me like that."

"How long... ?"

"Four... h-" she said ruefully.

"You mean they left you alone with that in your mouth for these last four hours?" I interrupted. "They need to be spanked - soundly. You could have died."

"Oh, they're not altogether to be blamed," she said. "You see, I fancy myself as an escapologist and they often come to help me practice." A light began to dawn for me. "They don't know the tricks and think that I can actually slip out of handcuffs. This time they surprised me before I could get ready, locked me up like this, took all my keys and said they were off on dates and would be back about nine to make sure that I had escaped."

"Hmm, so you're a spoof escapologist?"

"Aren't they all?"

"Actually ... no," I replied. "You can't get out of a straight-jacket by secreting keys. The straps and locks are outside the jacket and you are inside?"

"You know about escapology?" Her interest was immediate; she had forgotten her own predicament.

"A bit. So, without keys... you can't get out of those irons?"

"Huh... I'm stuck until nine o'clock ... that's if they come on time which I doubt. But they didn't give me time... I'm desperate to go to the loo."

"Be my guest." The apartments were, with amazing architectural imagination, all the same and so she knew where to go.

"But... erm... ". She was getting embarassed again: "My hands... ".

"Ah, yes. Of course." I crossed to my trunk, took down the key from its wall-hook and opened up. Handcuff keys of many sorts were stowed in a compartmented tray on top; as I selected a standard key, I heard a gasp from behind. As I said before, her big blue eyes can expand to the size of dinner plates and they were serving dishes right now.

"Oh... good heavens... you really are... ?"

I made the standard circular motion with my right index finger and then inserted the key into one of her cuffs: "Now," I said, "before you make a mess on my carpet... ?"

She scampered off rattling her hobble chain and apparently oblivious to the one still swinging from her left wrist. She was like an excited child at a birthday party waiting endlessly to open those piled-up presents. You wouldn't believe me anyway if I denied that I was in a state of excitement too?

When she emerged, I had fetched a second cup and, seated in my chair, I was wetting down my own dry mouth. She looked from me to the trunk and back again. Silently I held out the key; she took it but made no attempt to use it. When she looked back again at the trunk, I said: "Be my guest... by all means."

Clearly oblivious to the fact of her manacles, she squatted beside my treasure chest and began to dive inwards. One by one, each artefact was extracted with an almost reverent care, examined and laid aside. When she came to the large straight-jacket, she held it against herself but, without doubt, she would have fallen through it. With some reluctance, she put it aside. Almost at once, she discovered the smaller and softer canvas jacket and, as she tested it for size, it was clear that she was getting very excited.

She sent a quick glance in my direction, almost as though to make sure that I was not looking, and as quickly went back to the jacket. "Why not try it on?" I suggested.

"Oh, could... ?" She shook her head in denial but almost immediately: "Would you... mind... if... if I... "

"They're not much use to me any more," I said. "If it will give you a bit of fun... please do."

As she held it up she became aware at last of the shackles; she hunted around on the floor until she found the key and then shed them. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and pulled the collar strap up and around her neck. I rose, crossed to her and finished buckling it around that very pretty neck.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

The very suggestive wriggle of her bum said that she was most certainly sure.

"You trust me, do you?"

There was a look of slight puzzlement on the face that she turned to me but she wasn't thinking about any threat to her safety.

"First," I said, "we need a safeword. Whenever you want this to stop, you say the word... and that's it. Understand?"

She nodded. "My mother's maiden name."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

Well... in for a penny... I buckled her up all down the back, reached through for the crotch strap and then pulled everything tight. I took each sleeve in turn, threaded it through the front loop and then through its own side loop; finally I connected the straps at the back and pulled that buckle tight as well. As I stood back I had to admit that I had secured a very neat little bundle indeed. I was playing with fire however... and it was turning me on in a manner I had not known in years.

At first she just looked down at herself; I sat in the chair and watched. Then tentatively she tried working her arms from side to side but, when she heaved upwards, the effect of the crotch strap became very obvious. For a couple of minutes she struggled and wriggled and heaved and finally puffed.

"You really can't do much about it, can you?" she enquired.

"You need know-how, strength in your fingers, lots of practice and the stamina of a brick wall. But, you still have the choice of screaming or running."

"Is that what that big wide strap is for - it was folded into the jacket?"

"Can be used for several things," I replied: "You want to try it?"

"Rather."

I helped her to kneel, passed the strap under her ankles, up between her thighs and buckled it around her waist. "That should really fix you."

She bobbed up and down a few times and then looked at me again with that big grin: "That's what I call helpless. But I can still scream... how about you put my gag back in?"

"No," I said, "This has gone far enough." I got up intending to free her.

"Oh, please. Just for a few minutes. Got this far... do let me finish the experience."

By now it was clear that her interest in escapology had been supplanted by excitement in bondage. Well, what the hell. I picked up the ball-gag and took it into the kitchen to wash. When I returned she was lying on her side and kicking spasmodically; damned if she wasn't enjoying an orgasm.

It took only a few seconds to ensure that she was OK. "You're a very naughty girl," I admonished. "May I presume that you enjoyed that?"

"And how!" she gasped. "You can gag me now."

"I'm not so sure... "

"Oh, come on. Don't be a spoil-sport. We've come this far... let's at least finish ."

"OK. But we must change the rules. Once this goes in, you can't use your safeword, right? So, you will grunt three times in succession and repeat it three times... like this. Uh, uh,uh. Uh,uh,uh. Uh,uh,uh. Show me."

She repeated it but broke up in the middle of the third repeat in a fit of giggles. "No dice," I said. "Again please. This is not a joke."

This time, she was successful. She opened her mouth and I buckled the ball in but took care not to make it tight. "You want to finish the job?" I enquired. She nodded enthusiastically. I picked up the hood from where she had discarded it thinking, no doubt, that it was but some kind of protective bag. I gathered up her hair and piled it on top then slipped the hood over her head, closed the ring about her neck and added one of the small locks from the tray.

Taken completely by surprise, she bucked hard against her restraints but, of course, it proved as futile as her struggles against the cuffs had been. Any doubts I may have entertained about her condition now went out of the window as she rolled around and tumbled about the floor for some fifteen minutes. Finally, with heaving chest, she lay still for a short period and then came the three-grunt signal.

I undid the leg strap and then the buckles on the jacket and pulled it free. But I didn't do anything about her gag or the hood. At first she put her hands up to release herself and then, apparently for the first time, she realised that I had locked it on. Now was her real test as an escapologist; if she panicked she lacked a future in that business.

Carefully she sat down on the floor cross-legged and seemed to be listening. The bag no doubt muffled her hearing to some extent and she constantly turned her head about as though trying to locate me. I kept still and silent. Her hands went back up to the bag and she tried to undo the gag strap but it was clear that the mass of hair inside the bag frustrated any attempt at locating, let alone undoing, the buckle.

Eventually she gave the grunt signal again. I tipped forward out of the chair and patted her gently on the shoulder: "Well done. Hold on a tick and I'll get you out of that."

"Why did you leave that on my head?"

"I wanted to see how you would react. You could have panicked and, blinded like that, you might well have hurt yourself were you alone."

"I suppose," she said thoughtfully, "panicking can be disaster for an escapologist?"

"Absolutely. How did you feel when you found that I still had you?"

"I didn't feel that you had me at all. After all you'd taken off the straight-jacket and you wouldn't have done that if you meant to keep me tied up? I think I could have released the gag except that some fool filled the bag with hair."

"I like that. You keep your head when the unexpected happens. You could well make a real escapologist."

"Would you... would you teach me?"

"It would be a great pleasure to pass on what I know. And... if you're any good then that lot is yours."

"Ohhh." She flew at me and delivered a great kiss - but I look like an old man and she planted it - right between the eyes - on my forehead!

"Hold on," I said. I'll certainly give it to you if you can make the grade but there's no way I'm going to turn it over to you until I'm sure you'll be safe with it."

For a moment she looked chastened... but I was wrong. "First," she said, and there was a ring in her voice: "First I have to square the account with my two idiot friends. Will you help me?"

"Umm. What exactly do you have in mind?"

"I'd like to fix them up the way they did me... and leave them like that all night."

"That sounds dangerously like kidnapping and false imprisonment."

"I'll take a chance on the Judge calling it sweet revenge."

"Work for you, I should think. But it's a different kettle of fish where I'd be concerned ?"

"Well, just lend me some cuffs. I've only got enough for one of them."

"I'll wear that. But... how're you going to take them?"

"I'm a lot stronger than either of them and with surprise on my side... ?"

"If they come together?"

"Don't think they will. They'll 'phone first. When I don't answer one of them will come up. All I have to do is jump her and then wait for the other."

"OK," I said. "But you'd better leave me your door key... just in case you lose?"

We went together to the chest and dug out a suitable set of cuffs. She fingered the straight-jacket: "No," I said. "It's very confining and you might get a panic on your hands. Blindfold them, if you like, but... gags no longer than thirty minutes and no hoods. AND... don't leave them alone for a minute without supervision. OK?"

"You're the boss. I'll be good."

"That's my girl. Take my 'phone number in case you need me - but don't leave them."

It was just after ten when my 'phone rang. A very soft voice said, "You must come and see this. I've got them blinded so they won't see you."

"Successful, eh?"

"Oh yea. Oh yea. You must come and peep. It was a bit of cake. Of course... they think I escaped."

She certainly took revenge seriously. Two great looking female bodies were heaving and floundering around her lounge floor clad only in bras and panties and there was a camera mounted on a tripod. She had them back-to-back each with their hands and feet cuffed but, although they were free to move about - as indeed she had been - each girl had her arms linked through the other's legs.. The long-chain cuffs of her own were attached to an ankle of one girl and a wrist of the other. Looked a bit like it might hurt if they struggled too hard.

One of them sported the ball-gag; the other appeared to be cleave-gagged with a pillow case. They were both blindfolded with what appeared to be linen cloths that were secured in place with that wide red ribbon and decorative bows. I looked at the mess that was Jaline. "You didn't have it all that easy, did you?" I asked.

"You're tootin," she said. "I feel like I've just run the marathon."

"Want me to watch them while you grab a shower?"

She gave me that grin again under those devilish eyes. "No matter the age," she said, "they're always men" and hastily skipped away toward the shower.

END
MaxRoper
Millennial Club
Millennial Club
Posts: 1062
Joined: 6 years ago
Location: Pacific NW

Post by MaxRoper »

Limey had several good stories at T&TT and this was one of the best. Thanks for posting!
Lordfed
Forum Contributer
Forum Contributer
Posts: 1
Joined: 4 years ago
Location: Greenland
Contact:

Post by Lordfed »

Lily WhiteHeart ha scritto:October is a nice period of the year to go to Paris... isnt it a low cost period for airplains?
User avatar
herdfaninrva
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 179
Joined: 6 years ago
Location: Richmond VA area USA

Post by herdfaninrva »

I wish this were the first in a series. Lots of good ways to go with it, including the 3 girls becoming an escape act or maybe just playing "can you top this" escape games among themselves.
"I can't tell why I love the smell of coal smoke, valve oil, and steam." Johnny Horton
User avatar
scarfgagged
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 168
Joined: 5 years ago
Contact:

Post by scarfgagged »

Loved the story!!!!
If you're not gagged and blindfolded, then you're not tied up at all!!! :D
Post Reply Previous topicNext topic