If there is sufficient interest, there will be a short story contest for tales of 1000 words or less.
If you are interested, send @Xtc a pm containing only the words, "You got that number wrong!"
As soon as there are at least ten expressions of interest, the rules and the topic will be posted.
Let's make that Only 1000 words!
Let's make that Only 1000 words!
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
BUMP!!
There is currently insufficient take-up to stage a contest.
I shall leave the invitation up for another week before calling it off.
There is currently insufficient take-up to stage a contest.
I shall leave the invitation up for another week before calling it off.
If sufficient interested participants send a pm to Xtc saying
"You got that number wrong"
The subject and the rules will be posted immediately.
"You got that number wrong"
The subject and the rules will be posted immediately.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
Three more promises needed.
Xtc is away on family business for the next few days
so the offer is extended until Thursday 9th November
Xtc is away on family business for the next few days
so the offer is extended until Thursday 9th November
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
THE COMPETITION WILL TAKE PLACE
As long as the promised entries and, hopefully more, are received within the stated dates, we shall award first, second, and third places. The users can, if they wish, be identified as “Contest Winners” in their rankings. (Unless @cj2125 wins again, in which case we shall simply shoot him!)
Rules:
1) All stories must be suitable for all.
2) There is an upper limit of 1000 words which includes the title and any explanations and excuses. (Be fair, the judges have a life to live!)
3) All entries must be posted as replies to this thread between 30th November and 7th December inclusive. Early posts will be disqualified.
4) All judges’ decisions might well be arbitrary, biased and wrong but will be final. NB. Xtc will reserve his opinion until all judges have reported in case a casting vote is required.
This contest’s topic:
“Well, I know better now!”
Good luck and please have a go.
“Well, I know better now!”
Good luck and please have a go.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
BUMP
CONTEST OPEN FOR ENTRIES ON 1ST DECEMBER
ARE YOU READY?
CONTEST OPEN FOR ENTRIES ON 1ST DECEMBER
ARE YOU READY?
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
Sorry, technical cock-up.
If you have tried to enter and have been unable to do so, please contact xtc.
Please bear with me; I am without techinical support at present.
If you have tried to enter and have been unable to do so, please contact xtc.
Please bear with me; I am without techinical support at present.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
-
tiedinbluetights
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 623
- Joined: 2 years ago
- Location: Canada
A Door Opens (m-solo, m/m, fm/m)
"Simon says, do 10 jumping-jacks."My brother, named Simon incidentally (and aged 11 like myself), performed my command to the letter. We had just gotten home from soccer practice and were killing time until our sister Roxanne (aged 13) and our mom returned from dance practice.
"Do 10 push-ups."
My brother got in position and started his first push-up when I piped up, "I didn't say 'Simon!'"
"Fooled me, Joe! My turn! Simon says, tie Simon up!"
I sighed.
"Oh, come on! You know I like it. It's fun! You'll be able to play your video games without pestering!"
My brother and I shared a bedroom with one TV and gaming console. We were both into many of the same things: soccer, judo, console gaming, .... Tie up games were not among those.
"You know I'm not interested."
"I'm you're older brother, you should do as I ask."
"Hey! Only by two minutes Mom said."
"I don't get you Joe, we're twins."
"Not identical." I remarked.
The front door opened.
...
Mom, Roxie and Simon had gone out shopping. At eleven years old, I was able to take care of myself and trusted to be left alone. I would take this chance to understand my brother's fascination with being tied up. Having caught my brother on numerous occasions self-tied, gave me some idea of how I should tie myself to try and understand what Simon described as "the joy of feeling helpless at the hands of trusted and caring people."
I fetched his 'toy box' from under his bed and emptied its contents onto mine. I took stock of two judo yellow belts, a couple of old bathrobe belts, various lengths of braided white nylon rope, and a roll of silver duct tape.
Our beds, separated by a shared nightstand, each had a headboard and footboard composed of vertical slats. I hopped onto mine, still wearing my bright blue, over the calf, soccer socks. I grabbed one of the yellow judo belts and tied my ankles together.
The first thing that struck me was the contrast of colours: yellow binding my blue clad legs. The look was more appealing than the pressure I felt on my ankles. I was able to move my knees apart and reposition my ankles such that one ended up over the other with more looseness. Remembering that Simon would also bind his knees together with another belt, then use rope to cinch the first belt between his ankles and tie-it off to the central slats of the footboard, I proceeded to do the same.
My heart pounding, I admired the contrast of yellow and white bindings against bright blue socks. Once more, look was more appealing than feel. I was now 'forced' to keep my legs parallel.
It was while wiggling my toes that I caught a whiff of my feet. That's when the paradoxical sensation of scents being simultaneously pleasant and unpleasant came over me. Without thinking further, I grabbed the roll of duct tape and taped my mouth up with several passes around my head. Wiggling my toes again, once more I caught whiffs of the pleasantly unpleasant stink. Heart pounding faster, a form of euphoria came over me. Without hesitation I took the two lengths of bathrobe belts, and with great difficulty, twisting and turning, I managed to tie one end of each belt to a side post of the headboard; with the free ends, I formed slip knots.
Repositioning myself on my back, I fed each wrist through one slip knot, and pulled until the fabric looped tightly around my wrists. The exertion made me sweat and breathe heavily through my nose. Checking if I could free myself, I was able to just barely reach either wrist with the fingers of my other hand. I was also able to lean up on my forearms, providing me with a good view of my bound legs.
I giggled through my gag. Who knew that this could be so much fun! Simon knew.
The front door opened.
...
"We're back," Roxanne called out. "Mom is parking the car; needs help with the bags."
I tried to pry the knots around my wrists loose with my fingers, but couldn't! The fabric of the bathrobe belts made my attempts to loosen the slip knots near impossible in my reclined position. Having gagged myself, I dared not call out. A flood of mixed emotions washed over me.
"Why don't you go fetch our brother. He's probably wearing headphones."
Footsteps came closer as I tried to release myself to no avail. The bedroom door swung open.
"Roxie! Simon says you got to come and see this!"
I felt my face burn beat red.
"She's probably gone back outside," Simon remarked after a minute. "I'll untie you."
I shook my head and flapped my arms, mumbling unintelligibly.
"You want me to tighten?"
I nod.
"If I do this, you'll have to do it for me too. Deal?"
I nod in agreement. Simon proceeded to undo the bathrobe knots around the headboard posts, pulled them tighter, and knotted them again, my arms now spreadeagled tight. "Simon says, tickle tickle!"
Simon jabbed his fingers into my arm pits, causing me to squirm about, giggling with glee through my gag. A pleasant helplessness came over me. Through my giggles I heard bags dropped on a kitchen counter, and then footsteps approaching.
"Guys! Mom needs us," Roxie called out. "What are you guys ..."
Awkward moments passed as we just looked at each other. Finally, Roxie said "I thought you didn't like tie up games Joe."
"Well, Joe knows better now!" exclaimed Simon.
I nod in agreement once more.
"Hmm, that gives me an idea ..." mused Roxie.
A door opened.
Love to be tied-up I read and write stories for fun
Open to friendly PMs
(I don't do roleplays nor story requests)
-
slackywacky
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 2625
- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: Canada
Hanging nails (F-solo)
“CLANG.”
It was the sound that sealed my fate. It was caused by the folding ladder falling over and closing, flat on the floor. It had not been my intention to kick it over, but it happened, a total accident. I had intended to push it only a little away so that I could stand on it again when needed. But now that it happened, I was in a bit of a pickle. A potentially life-threatening pickle.
You might wonder why I was in this position, and why the ladder was important. Well, it all started just over an hour ago. I was standing on the top step of the three-step ladder. My legs tied with rope at my ankles and below and above my knees. Ten wraps of ¼ inch soft rope for each and a nice snug cinch made sure I could not separate my legs. Even my big toes were tied with string. Getting on the third step had not been easy, but I had managed using the rope that was tied from the rafters for support. I sat on the top of the ladder, moving my bound legs onto the third step. Using the rope from the rafters, I managed to get into a standing position. That had been the first hurdle I had to pass. Now it was time for the next steps.
I was already tightly gagged before I even got onto the ladder. Two of my socks were stuffed in my mouth. And yes, they were not clean. Gorilla tape, wrapped six times around my head, prevented me from saying anything much. Even if there would be anybody outside my garage, I doubted they could hear me. As my house was detached and at least 600 feet from the closest neighbour, I was pretty sure nobody would come to my rescue if I called out.
That left only one thing to do, my hands. I had this worked out well. Standing on the third step, I could just reach the rafter in the ceiling of my garage. Before starting, I had taken the time to measure the rope I needed and fixed it to the rafter. Even if I could get to the knots now, I would not matter. I slipped my hands in the rope wrap that I had created, seven wraps to distribute the pressure. It was snug and required a little work, but I managed to slip it over my hands onto my wrists. Raising my hands above my head, I started the task of wrapping the rope tied to the rafter around my wrists and the wooden beam. I managed, as I had calculated, 4 wraps. I needed a few moments to breath, as I was getting exited, being this close to my goal. When my heart rate settled down, I started on the knots. There was multiple, as I did not want the rope end to loosen by itself.
I took my time, making sure the knots were tight. It was not that easy to do with your hands tight together, but I managed. I tested by putting some of my wait on the rope, bending my knees. I could feel the rafter rope tightening the rope around my wrists. Based on how far the rope sagged, I had done a good job in measuring, I would not be able to touch the floor. Another step in my plan done.
Now it was time for that final moment. Transferring my weight to my bound arms, I lifted my bound legs up, now hanging completely by my wrists. I could feel that I would not be able to hang too long, as the ropes on my wrists tightened, but it felt good. My feet were about the height of 1 stepladder step above the floor if I pointed my tied toes.
Now there was only one thing to do, move the ladder slightly, so that I could hang without bumping into it. I gently used my legs to push it away, not too far as I needed it to get out of this position. Without the ladder in the way, I could hang like I planned. The pressure on my wrists was intense. Luckily, I am not heavy, and I exercise, but still. I tried to reach the floor, but I could not.
After what felt like an eternity, but probably was just 15 minutes I needed a break. With my bound feet I managed to pull the ladder close, and I transferred my weight back to my legs. It felt good to give my wrists a bit of relieve. And I needed to catch up on my breathing.
Feeling rested, if you can call it that, I brough the weight back on my arms and gently pushed the ladder away. I was not sure if I pushed it wrong, hanging from your wrists makes it a little harder to do, but the ladder fell over and collapsed on the floor. I screamed into my gag, but the sound hardly travelled.
Now what?
It was Friday evening; nobody would miss me till Monday. The rafter was not going to break from my weight. There was no way I would be able to get the ladder back, it was flat on the floor. I just hung there, panicking. Then I remembered I had been to the nail spa and had my nails done earlier this week. It was my only hope, I had to cut the rope. My nail extensions were sharp, maybe it would work.
It took me 2 difficult and painful hours to cut through the rope that held me suspended. Luckily, I only needed to cut through 1 rope, which made the other parts of the rope loosen and slip. I crashed to the floor. I was free.
Did I learn my lesson? Well, I know better now. Next time I will trim my nails way back!
“CLANG.”
It was the sound that sealed my fate. It was caused by the folding ladder falling over and closing, flat on the floor. It had not been my intention to kick it over, but it happened, a total accident. I had intended to push it only a little away so that I could stand on it again when needed. But now that it happened, I was in a bit of a pickle. A potentially life-threatening pickle.
You might wonder why I was in this position, and why the ladder was important. Well, it all started just over an hour ago. I was standing on the top step of the three-step ladder. My legs tied with rope at my ankles and below and above my knees. Ten wraps of ¼ inch soft rope for each and a nice snug cinch made sure I could not separate my legs. Even my big toes were tied with string. Getting on the third step had not been easy, but I had managed using the rope that was tied from the rafters for support. I sat on the top of the ladder, moving my bound legs onto the third step. Using the rope from the rafters, I managed to get into a standing position. That had been the first hurdle I had to pass. Now it was time for the next steps.
I was already tightly gagged before I even got onto the ladder. Two of my socks were stuffed in my mouth. And yes, they were not clean. Gorilla tape, wrapped six times around my head, prevented me from saying anything much. Even if there would be anybody outside my garage, I doubted they could hear me. As my house was detached and at least 600 feet from the closest neighbour, I was pretty sure nobody would come to my rescue if I called out.
That left only one thing to do, my hands. I had this worked out well. Standing on the third step, I could just reach the rafter in the ceiling of my garage. Before starting, I had taken the time to measure the rope I needed and fixed it to the rafter. Even if I could get to the knots now, I would not matter. I slipped my hands in the rope wrap that I had created, seven wraps to distribute the pressure. It was snug and required a little work, but I managed to slip it over my hands onto my wrists. Raising my hands above my head, I started the task of wrapping the rope tied to the rafter around my wrists and the wooden beam. I managed, as I had calculated, 4 wraps. I needed a few moments to breath, as I was getting exited, being this close to my goal. When my heart rate settled down, I started on the knots. There was multiple, as I did not want the rope end to loosen by itself.
I took my time, making sure the knots were tight. It was not that easy to do with your hands tight together, but I managed. I tested by putting some of my wait on the rope, bending my knees. I could feel the rafter rope tightening the rope around my wrists. Based on how far the rope sagged, I had done a good job in measuring, I would not be able to touch the floor. Another step in my plan done.
Now it was time for that final moment. Transferring my weight to my bound arms, I lifted my bound legs up, now hanging completely by my wrists. I could feel that I would not be able to hang too long, as the ropes on my wrists tightened, but it felt good. My feet were about the height of 1 stepladder step above the floor if I pointed my tied toes.
Now there was only one thing to do, move the ladder slightly, so that I could hang without bumping into it. I gently used my legs to push it away, not too far as I needed it to get out of this position. Without the ladder in the way, I could hang like I planned. The pressure on my wrists was intense. Luckily, I am not heavy, and I exercise, but still. I tried to reach the floor, but I could not.
After what felt like an eternity, but probably was just 15 minutes I needed a break. With my bound feet I managed to pull the ladder close, and I transferred my weight back to my legs. It felt good to give my wrists a bit of relieve. And I needed to catch up on my breathing.
Feeling rested, if you can call it that, I brough the weight back on my arms and gently pushed the ladder away. I was not sure if I pushed it wrong, hanging from your wrists makes it a little harder to do, but the ladder fell over and collapsed on the floor. I screamed into my gag, but the sound hardly travelled.
Now what?
It was Friday evening; nobody would miss me till Monday. The rafter was not going to break from my weight. There was no way I would be able to get the ladder back, it was flat on the floor. I just hung there, panicking. Then I remembered I had been to the nail spa and had my nails done earlier this week. It was my only hope, I had to cut the rope. My nail extensions were sharp, maybe it would work.
It took me 2 difficult and painful hours to cut through the rope that held me suspended. Luckily, I only needed to cut through 1 rope, which made the other parts of the rope loosen and slip. I crashed to the floor. I was free.
Did I learn my lesson? Well, I know better now. Next time I will trim my nails way back!
Last edited by slackywacky 4 months ago, edited 2 times in total.
DELETED
Last edited by AlexUSA3 3 months ago, edited 1 time in total.
CGC Short Stories (F+f+/F+f+): viewtopic.php?f=8&t=20527
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
Find my other CGC Stories in the same link above!
-
blackbound
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 1109
- Joined: 6 years ago
DO YOUR WORST M/you
You'd finally drummed up the courage to contact the strictest, most feared dom in the city, and after a lot of back and forth, you are about to enter his place.
"Do your worst" were the exact instructions you had given. Today, you would find out what that was.
You ring the doorbell, and he buzzes you in. As the door to freedom closes behind you, you find yourself in a small room. There's a board on the wall that says:
FOLLOW ALL INSTRUCTIONS
NO SPEAKING UNLESS SPOKEN TO
MAKE YOUR PEACE THEN KNOCK THREE TIMES
You swallow nervously. There's still time to just leave, but instead, you knock three times on the other door.
It opens, and you step through.
He is dressed in blue jeans and a shirt. For the longest time, he just looks at you. As instructed, you don't speak.
He grabs you by the neck and marches you over to a cell, going inside with you.
"Hands behind your back," he says. Finally! You comply.
You hear the familiar noise of a zip tie. You brace for pain, but it sits very loosely - you could easily wriggle out of it. Huh?
He produces a roll of tape, peels off a small piece, barely enough to cover your mouth, and applies it shoddily. It doesn't even stick well.
Then he walks out of the cell and slams the door shut. Locks it.
"Well, that's my worst," he says. He turns to leave; you're still speechless.
"See you tomorrow!"
None of your screaming, begging, or cursing brings him back.
You should've known to be more careful what you wish for.
You'd finally drummed up the courage to contact the strictest, most feared dom in the city, and after a lot of back and forth, you are about to enter his place.
"Do your worst" were the exact instructions you had given. Today, you would find out what that was.
You ring the doorbell, and he buzzes you in. As the door to freedom closes behind you, you find yourself in a small room. There's a board on the wall that says:
FOLLOW ALL INSTRUCTIONS
NO SPEAKING UNLESS SPOKEN TO
MAKE YOUR PEACE THEN KNOCK THREE TIMES
You swallow nervously. There's still time to just leave, but instead, you knock three times on the other door.
It opens, and you step through.
He is dressed in blue jeans and a shirt. For the longest time, he just looks at you. As instructed, you don't speak.
He grabs you by the neck and marches you over to a cell, going inside with you.
"Hands behind your back," he says. Finally! You comply.
You hear the familiar noise of a zip tie. You brace for pain, but it sits very loosely - you could easily wriggle out of it. Huh?
He produces a roll of tape, peels off a small piece, barely enough to cover your mouth, and applies it shoddily. It doesn't even stick well.
Then he walks out of the cell and slams the door shut. Locks it.
"Well, that's my worst," he says. He turns to leave; you're still speechless.
"See you tomorrow!"
None of your screaming, begging, or cursing brings him back.
You should've known to be more careful what you wish for.
-
blackbound
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 1109
- Joined: 6 years ago
Baby's Got A Temper M+/M
Brilliant will only get you so far if you don't have yourself under control; a lesson the defender was about to learn.
The gaffer had managed to protect him during the horror match where he scored an own goal and enabled a second, but when he got sent off the next match after an altercation with and physical attack on his own midfielders, it was over.
And so, his teammates had put him in the Punishment Frame - a metal triangle with two ankle shackles at the base, two hand shackles on the legs, and a neck collar at the top. Things escalated from there when the team captain produced a metal dental gag - a device rumored but never before used in these corrective actions. He fought like a caged beast as they forced it into his mouth, his profanities reduced to gargles as it was ratcheted open.
"What now?" asked one of the younger players, wide-eyed.
"Now we let him cool off while we change."
So it was done. The players' dirty clothes were collected in hampers, they went to shower and dress, then returned.
"I think the equipment manager deserves a break, don't you, boys?" the captain asked. There were cheers.
He picked two socks from the hamper, folded them up, and shoved them into the helpless prisoner's mouth. The sweat and dirt from 90 minutes of intense play flooded his tastebuds; he sputtered and choked.
"Wash them well, boy!"
When he made no motion to engage, the captain started slapping him - lightly at first, then harder, until he complied.
After some minutes, the socks were removed. He breathed a sigh of relief... until the captain picked up the next pair.
TWO HOURS LATER...
The final pair of socks was pulled from the human washing machine. He had gone from passive to enraged, fighting against the bonds and screaming inchoately at his tormentors, so it was decided that he needed the night to cool off.
"Wait," said the youngest, pointing at their captive's shoes. "We forgot one pair."
And so his shoes came off and he got a taste of his own socks. This only enraged him more. Someone suggested additional noise reduction, and soon enough, they had produced a roll of duct tape.
With his lower face wrapped in the sticky material, additional loops under his chin and over his head securing the main loop, the tirade was a lot quieter. The addition of both of his shin pads taped tightly over his face muffled him even further, making it hard to see or breathe. The team tried to figure out how to tape his shoe on top of that, but failed.
And so they left him to stew overnight. All the fight was out of him when he was released the next day.
After sitting out his two-game suspension, the remainder of his season was flawless. And should he be punished again, he knew better than to let his temper get the better of him.
Brilliant will only get you so far if you don't have yourself under control; a lesson the defender was about to learn.
The gaffer had managed to protect him during the horror match where he scored an own goal and enabled a second, but when he got sent off the next match after an altercation with and physical attack on his own midfielders, it was over.
And so, his teammates had put him in the Punishment Frame - a metal triangle with two ankle shackles at the base, two hand shackles on the legs, and a neck collar at the top. Things escalated from there when the team captain produced a metal dental gag - a device rumored but never before used in these corrective actions. He fought like a caged beast as they forced it into his mouth, his profanities reduced to gargles as it was ratcheted open.
"What now?" asked one of the younger players, wide-eyed.
"Now we let him cool off while we change."
So it was done. The players' dirty clothes were collected in hampers, they went to shower and dress, then returned.
"I think the equipment manager deserves a break, don't you, boys?" the captain asked. There were cheers.
He picked two socks from the hamper, folded them up, and shoved them into the helpless prisoner's mouth. The sweat and dirt from 90 minutes of intense play flooded his tastebuds; he sputtered and choked.
"Wash them well, boy!"
When he made no motion to engage, the captain started slapping him - lightly at first, then harder, until he complied.
After some minutes, the socks were removed. He breathed a sigh of relief... until the captain picked up the next pair.
TWO HOURS LATER...
The final pair of socks was pulled from the human washing machine. He had gone from passive to enraged, fighting against the bonds and screaming inchoately at his tormentors, so it was decided that he needed the night to cool off.
"Wait," said the youngest, pointing at their captive's shoes. "We forgot one pair."
And so his shoes came off and he got a taste of his own socks. This only enraged him more. Someone suggested additional noise reduction, and soon enough, they had produced a roll of duct tape.
With his lower face wrapped in the sticky material, additional loops under his chin and over his head securing the main loop, the tirade was a lot quieter. The addition of both of his shin pads taped tightly over his face muffled him even further, making it hard to see or breathe. The team tried to figure out how to tape his shoe on top of that, but failed.
And so they left him to stew overnight. All the fight was out of him when he was released the next day.
After sitting out his two-game suspension, the remainder of his season was flawless. And should he be punished again, he knew better than to let his temper get the better of him.
The Pond – (m/f)
This is a prequel to a story under development, The Big Sur.
I am called Juan. Today, I turned 16. My father, Don Estaban de Castro, had given me a spectacularly fine bay stallion for my birthday. Now, in the early afternoon, I was leaving my father's large estate and riding onto the even larger property of Don Fernando. He was very strict about people trespassing on his land. But Don Fernando and my father were close friends. My brother and I had permission to ride on his land to our heart's content. Happily, my older brother, Albelardo, would inherit. In the meantime, I had the finest tutoring and training in sword and firearms, horsemanship, plantation management, and other subjects without responsibilities hanging over me.
Don Fernando's youngest daughter, Maria, and I had formed an excellent friendship, and she had told me that on Tuesdays, she would often take long rides toward our property. She liked to visit a pond in a glade secluded by surrounding forests. She would be coming on a path following down the stream to the pond. I was coming upstream. Maria is 15.
I had been professionally introduced to the mysteries of women on my 15th birthday. But Maria had caused me to be particularly excited to see her in a private environment. We talked last week at a party our family attended at Don Fernando's mansion. Maria told me, in confidence, that she had discovered that it was a lot of fun to be tied up. I was surprised by this, and thoughts of tying Maria up had been intruding into my thoughts almost continually since she brought up the subject. This was the first Tuesday since the party. I hoped that Maria would be at the pond today.
My delight to see her horse at the gazebo near the pond was almost boundless. I dismounted my stallion and tied him to the hitching post. I rushed into the gazebo and hugged Maria. "I am so happy you are here, Maria. I have been uncertain whether you were putting me on at your father's party. We had so little privacy to talk. Are you of the same mind as when we talked last week?"
Maria replied, "I understand your uncertainty. I know that being asked to tie someone up is not common for you. But, yes, I do want you to tie me. Will you do that for me? You are the only friend that I trust enough to let make me helpless."
"I have thought of little else since the party," I said. Yes, I want to do this very much. What led you to want this?"
"That is a fair question," answered Maria. "My older sister introduced me to being tied up a few months ago. We have had at least a dozen sessions at it. I have tied her several times, but I like being tied best. The only trouble is, I think that I will like being tied up by a male much more than by my sister. You say the idea excites you, too?"
I told her, "Yes, very much. But I am afraid that none of my training prepares me for this." I continued, "Can you tell me how you would like me to tie you?"
"Juan," Maria said, "I have assumed you would need some instruction." She removed her riding cloak, revealing a dress with a deep bodice. I knew that Maria was well endowed. I didn't know how well. The top of her breasts were exposed, as well as a lot of cleavage between them. "I know you will be physically excited by how I am dressed. I can trust you to enjoy me only visually, right?"
"Maria, I respect you and will not touch you inappropriately," I told her. I would have to steel myself to make that accurate.
"Then I will start you tying my hands in front," she said. "I can teach you as my sister taught me." The sleeves of her dress came to just below her elbows, leaving her forearms bare. She removed a length of rope from her cloak, handing it to me. Then, she put her forearms together, telling me to tie them. I looped the rope around her arms several times, very tightly, and tied the rope off.
Maria said, "Not bad for the first time. But look, you put the knot on the top of my arms. I can get my teeth on the knot." She showed me, and in minutes, she had worked the knot loose and shaken off the loops. She was free. But I was dismayed. Not that she was free but that she was showing rope marks. I had hurt her.
"That will fade before I get home. Now I will show you how to do this correctly," Maria said. She showed me how to make a noose. Later, I learned it was called a Lark's Head noose. She handed it to me and put her forearms together again. Now wrap my arms several times loosely."
I did and said, "But you can just pull your arms out of that."
Maria said, "Pass the rope between my arms above my elbows. Then, come up between my hands. Repeat that several times, cinching your first loops. Tie the rope where I can't reach it by hand or mouth. You will see that I am very secure."
I nodded, and she continued. "Free me now. Then, we will do it again with my hands behind my back and behind one of these gazebo posts. After you have tied my hands, tie my elbows. There are more ropes in my cloak. Tie my ankles together and to the post.
When I finished, my eyes glowed in admiration of the beauty straining against her ropes, helpless before me. Maria’s eyes flashed at me as she said. “I hope you are enjoying watching. Next time, I will teach you to gag me.”
This is a prequel to a story under development, The Big Sur.
I am called Juan. Today, I turned 16. My father, Don Estaban de Castro, had given me a spectacularly fine bay stallion for my birthday. Now, in the early afternoon, I was leaving my father's large estate and riding onto the even larger property of Don Fernando. He was very strict about people trespassing on his land. But Don Fernando and my father were close friends. My brother and I had permission to ride on his land to our heart's content. Happily, my older brother, Albelardo, would inherit. In the meantime, I had the finest tutoring and training in sword and firearms, horsemanship, plantation management, and other subjects without responsibilities hanging over me.
Don Fernando's youngest daughter, Maria, and I had formed an excellent friendship, and she had told me that on Tuesdays, she would often take long rides toward our property. She liked to visit a pond in a glade secluded by surrounding forests. She would be coming on a path following down the stream to the pond. I was coming upstream. Maria is 15.
I had been professionally introduced to the mysteries of women on my 15th birthday. But Maria had caused me to be particularly excited to see her in a private environment. We talked last week at a party our family attended at Don Fernando's mansion. Maria told me, in confidence, that she had discovered that it was a lot of fun to be tied up. I was surprised by this, and thoughts of tying Maria up had been intruding into my thoughts almost continually since she brought up the subject. This was the first Tuesday since the party. I hoped that Maria would be at the pond today.
My delight to see her horse at the gazebo near the pond was almost boundless. I dismounted my stallion and tied him to the hitching post. I rushed into the gazebo and hugged Maria. "I am so happy you are here, Maria. I have been uncertain whether you were putting me on at your father's party. We had so little privacy to talk. Are you of the same mind as when we talked last week?"
Maria replied, "I understand your uncertainty. I know that being asked to tie someone up is not common for you. But, yes, I do want you to tie me. Will you do that for me? You are the only friend that I trust enough to let make me helpless."
"I have thought of little else since the party," I said. Yes, I want to do this very much. What led you to want this?"
"That is a fair question," answered Maria. "My older sister introduced me to being tied up a few months ago. We have had at least a dozen sessions at it. I have tied her several times, but I like being tied best. The only trouble is, I think that I will like being tied up by a male much more than by my sister. You say the idea excites you, too?"
I told her, "Yes, very much. But I am afraid that none of my training prepares me for this." I continued, "Can you tell me how you would like me to tie you?"
"Juan," Maria said, "I have assumed you would need some instruction." She removed her riding cloak, revealing a dress with a deep bodice. I knew that Maria was well endowed. I didn't know how well. The top of her breasts were exposed, as well as a lot of cleavage between them. "I know you will be physically excited by how I am dressed. I can trust you to enjoy me only visually, right?"
"Maria, I respect you and will not touch you inappropriately," I told her. I would have to steel myself to make that accurate.
"Then I will start you tying my hands in front," she said. "I can teach you as my sister taught me." The sleeves of her dress came to just below her elbows, leaving her forearms bare. She removed a length of rope from her cloak, handing it to me. Then, she put her forearms together, telling me to tie them. I looped the rope around her arms several times, very tightly, and tied the rope off.
Maria said, "Not bad for the first time. But look, you put the knot on the top of my arms. I can get my teeth on the knot." She showed me, and in minutes, she had worked the knot loose and shaken off the loops. She was free. But I was dismayed. Not that she was free but that she was showing rope marks. I had hurt her.
"That will fade before I get home. Now I will show you how to do this correctly," Maria said. She showed me how to make a noose. Later, I learned it was called a Lark's Head noose. She handed it to me and put her forearms together again. Now wrap my arms several times loosely."
I did and said, "But you can just pull your arms out of that."
Maria said, "Pass the rope between my arms above my elbows. Then, come up between my hands. Repeat that several times, cinching your first loops. Tie the rope where I can't reach it by hand or mouth. You will see that I am very secure."
I nodded, and she continued. "Free me now. Then, we will do it again with my hands behind my back and behind one of these gazebo posts. After you have tied my hands, tie my elbows. There are more ropes in my cloak. Tie my ankles together and to the post.
When I finished, my eyes glowed in admiration of the beauty straining against her ropes, helpless before me. Maria’s eyes flashed at me as she said. “I hope you are enjoying watching. Next time, I will teach you to gag me.”
Last edited by GreyLord 4 months ago, edited 1 time in total.
-
Bigballgag1
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 704
- Joined: 5 years ago
An Unexpected Night At The Museum
“Kayla...Kayla...Are you there?...Over!”
Kayla could hear where the sound was coming from as the radio almost shook on the desk but she was unable to answer. The 32 year old brunette woman had barely been in the job a week and yet she now found herself in a position that would prove difficult to explain.
She had taken a job as an overnight security guard at a large museum. Many would be put off by the unsociable hours, loneliness and responsibility of the role. Kayla however, despite not having much interest in historical artefacts, had been looking forward to the peace and quiet. After all, who would rob a museum over a bank?
The museum itself came with its own reputation. The previous security guard had left due to wild hallucinations. She had overheard a couple of people on her introduction tour speak of a local rumour that the museum would come alive at night. Not from this area, she didn’t give them much thought as she chuckled to herself with disbelief. How ridiculous! Inanimate objects don’t come to life.
Her first couple of nights had dispelled the ridiculous rumour as far as she was concerned. Nothing happened. All at the museum was still and quiet, just as it was expected to be.
Yet on the fourth night she found herself unable to believe what had happened. She had arrived for her handover and shift, just like the three days before, dressed in her freshly pressed uniform consisting of a light blue short sleeved blouse and black skirt with opaque pantyhose and heeled black shoes to finish. Everything appeared to be just like any other night. The museum was empty, the day shift guard had checked and switched off the lights in every exhibit before locking her in alone.
Taking a deep breath, soaking in the silence, she unwound her noise cancelling headphones and tablet ready to stream something to watch. She would glance periodically at the monitors just to make sure all was as it should be. The first few nights had been pleasantly uneventful so another anticipated dull night would suit her just fine.
Barely three hours later she found herself in a completely different situation. She was no longer so relaxed as she found herself under the desk in the darkness of the security office re-evaluating everything she thought was possible. Her wrists and elbows had been tightly secured behind her back with lengths of white rope. Two further ropes around her chest kept her arms pinned to her back. Each rope had been tied with expert precision.
Her legs followed as they were tightly secured at the ankles, shins, lower knees, upper knees and thighs with yet more rope. The final length used to secure her ankles to her elbows in a neat hogtie. Her shoes had been removed from her feet, placed on the desk like a trophy, as her pantyhose-clad soles were duct-taped together. She found herself surprised how much this limited her ability to move her feet.
A black leather blindfold covered her eyes. Even if she wanted to, she was unable to answer her colleague thanks to the leopard print cloth from one of the exhibits wrapped tightly over her mouth and secured behind her head in a double knot. It hid from view the foam fidget ball from the drawer which was stuffed inside her mouth.
It had all happened so fast. As she lay in her helpless state she tried to recall the details. A hand had clamped over her mouth from behind. There was a caveman, a Roman soldier and a third person...another caveman possibly? She was still hazy and could not say for certain.
When she was rescued in the morning by the first colleague to arrive she found out some further information which only deepened her unease.
A fire escape door had been opened from the inside. Detectives were still inspecting the scene. Some of the cash had been taken and her own tablet but there were only three artefacts missing. Two cavemen outfit displays and a roman soldier.
When she heard this, it was hard for her not to think back to how she laughed at the local folklore previously, thinking it absurd. This had to be just a well-planned robbery? Surely? Was this a prank or something? Why was she even giving the thought the time of day?
“Well, I know better now.” She whispered to herself as she stood outside the prehistoric exhibit alone later, unsure just what to think. Just one question remained; Why did it seem like the display models remaining were smirking at her expense?
“Kayla...Kayla...Are you there?...Over!”
Kayla could hear where the sound was coming from as the radio almost shook on the desk but she was unable to answer. The 32 year old brunette woman had barely been in the job a week and yet she now found herself in a position that would prove difficult to explain.
She had taken a job as an overnight security guard at a large museum. Many would be put off by the unsociable hours, loneliness and responsibility of the role. Kayla however, despite not having much interest in historical artefacts, had been looking forward to the peace and quiet. After all, who would rob a museum over a bank?
The museum itself came with its own reputation. The previous security guard had left due to wild hallucinations. She had overheard a couple of people on her introduction tour speak of a local rumour that the museum would come alive at night. Not from this area, she didn’t give them much thought as she chuckled to herself with disbelief. How ridiculous! Inanimate objects don’t come to life.
Her first couple of nights had dispelled the ridiculous rumour as far as she was concerned. Nothing happened. All at the museum was still and quiet, just as it was expected to be.
Yet on the fourth night she found herself unable to believe what had happened. She had arrived for her handover and shift, just like the three days before, dressed in her freshly pressed uniform consisting of a light blue short sleeved blouse and black skirt with opaque pantyhose and heeled black shoes to finish. Everything appeared to be just like any other night. The museum was empty, the day shift guard had checked and switched off the lights in every exhibit before locking her in alone.
Taking a deep breath, soaking in the silence, she unwound her noise cancelling headphones and tablet ready to stream something to watch. She would glance periodically at the monitors just to make sure all was as it should be. The first few nights had been pleasantly uneventful so another anticipated dull night would suit her just fine.
Barely three hours later she found herself in a completely different situation. She was no longer so relaxed as she found herself under the desk in the darkness of the security office re-evaluating everything she thought was possible. Her wrists and elbows had been tightly secured behind her back with lengths of white rope. Two further ropes around her chest kept her arms pinned to her back. Each rope had been tied with expert precision.
Her legs followed as they were tightly secured at the ankles, shins, lower knees, upper knees and thighs with yet more rope. The final length used to secure her ankles to her elbows in a neat hogtie. Her shoes had been removed from her feet, placed on the desk like a trophy, as her pantyhose-clad soles were duct-taped together. She found herself surprised how much this limited her ability to move her feet.
A black leather blindfold covered her eyes. Even if she wanted to, she was unable to answer her colleague thanks to the leopard print cloth from one of the exhibits wrapped tightly over her mouth and secured behind her head in a double knot. It hid from view the foam fidget ball from the drawer which was stuffed inside her mouth.
It had all happened so fast. As she lay in her helpless state she tried to recall the details. A hand had clamped over her mouth from behind. There was a caveman, a Roman soldier and a third person...another caveman possibly? She was still hazy and could not say for certain.
When she was rescued in the morning by the first colleague to arrive she found out some further information which only deepened her unease.
A fire escape door had been opened from the inside. Detectives were still inspecting the scene. Some of the cash had been taken and her own tablet but there were only three artefacts missing. Two cavemen outfit displays and a roman soldier.
When she heard this, it was hard for her not to think back to how she laughed at the local folklore previously, thinking it absurd. This had to be just a well-planned robbery? Surely? Was this a prank or something? Why was she even giving the thought the time of day?
“Well, I know better now.” She whispered to herself as she stood outside the prehistoric exhibit alone later, unsure just what to think. Just one question remained; Why did it seem like the display models remaining were smirking at her expense?
-
StringTheorist
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 101
- Joined: 1 year ago
- Location: Canada
Mastillia (?F?)
Dear Mabby
My name is Mastillia; I’m 61 years old, 5’7”, still fairly slim, even after 35 years of happy marriage and 2 children, both with families. We have an adequate income and a quiet life style.
My husband and I still enjoy having fun in bed about once a month, plain vanilla. Usually I start things by cuddling into his warm back while he was still asleep. I enjoy the contact and it doesn’t matter that I seldom come.
I participate in an exercise program for seniors, twice a week that is now conducted over Zoom as a consequence of Covid-19. The participants exercise in their home – basement, living room, spare room. The instructress has provided a number of props, one of which is called a body bar, 5 feet long weighing 2 kilos (I know, mixed units).
We use the body bar in exercises involving balance, and strength training. For instance, at Halloween, we use it to stir the witches’ pot, pulling against a sticky if imaginary brew.
One day the instructress asked the class to grasp the bar in front, palms down, a little over shoulder width apart. Then she asked us to raise the bar over our head, and if possible lower the bar behind out head. If not possible, bring it down in front.
She did as an example. When the bar was behind her neck, she moved her hands out towards the end of the bar. Then suddenly she wrapped her arms around the bar, grasping the closed end of the bar in each hand.
I noted a slight pause. I felt her thinking that she would like her husband to wrap duct tape around the bar and her wrists, and continue the wrapping around her hands holding the ends of the bar.
Just a fraction of a second or so, then she continued the exercise, having us lift the bar up and bring it back down again. I repeated her grasp, and found the body bar comfortably sat on the back of my neck and shoulders – nothing pressed against my spine.
But things happened inside me – I felt my nipples swelling up, and a pleasant sensation down in my genitals, which I used to get as a prelude to you know what.
When the class was over and the Zoom session closed, I picked up the grey body bar, and walked around the basement for a few minutes with the bar on my shoulders and pretending my wrists were secured to the grey plastic. The sensations came back.
I would like to have my man tie me up to the body bar and lay me out on our queen sized water bed. The bar and my hands would sink into the surface, comfortable. I knew that I would not be able to get up or free myself. Happily helpless, hoping he would play with me and rouse me to a resounding orgasm. Or many.
The problem is that I have always railed against violence against women. I get quite hot under the collar when I read, hear or see such violence. Everyone knows, including my faithful hubby. But I suddenly have this need to be secured as described and to be brought to satisfaction. One of those things which I railed against.
So I am in a dilemma, and am asking your advice on how to ask my husband to secure me.
Mastillia.
---------------------------------
So TUGgers, what should Babigail (or her daughter) advise Mastillia?
ST
Dear Mabby
My name is Mastillia; I’m 61 years old, 5’7”, still fairly slim, even after 35 years of happy marriage and 2 children, both with families. We have an adequate income and a quiet life style.
My husband and I still enjoy having fun in bed about once a month, plain vanilla. Usually I start things by cuddling into his warm back while he was still asleep. I enjoy the contact and it doesn’t matter that I seldom come.
I participate in an exercise program for seniors, twice a week that is now conducted over Zoom as a consequence of Covid-19. The participants exercise in their home – basement, living room, spare room. The instructress has provided a number of props, one of which is called a body bar, 5 feet long weighing 2 kilos (I know, mixed units).
We use the body bar in exercises involving balance, and strength training. For instance, at Halloween, we use it to stir the witches’ pot, pulling against a sticky if imaginary brew.
One day the instructress asked the class to grasp the bar in front, palms down, a little over shoulder width apart. Then she asked us to raise the bar over our head, and if possible lower the bar behind out head. If not possible, bring it down in front.
She did as an example. When the bar was behind her neck, she moved her hands out towards the end of the bar. Then suddenly she wrapped her arms around the bar, grasping the closed end of the bar in each hand.
I noted a slight pause. I felt her thinking that she would like her husband to wrap duct tape around the bar and her wrists, and continue the wrapping around her hands holding the ends of the bar.
Just a fraction of a second or so, then she continued the exercise, having us lift the bar up and bring it back down again. I repeated her grasp, and found the body bar comfortably sat on the back of my neck and shoulders – nothing pressed against my spine.
But things happened inside me – I felt my nipples swelling up, and a pleasant sensation down in my genitals, which I used to get as a prelude to you know what.
When the class was over and the Zoom session closed, I picked up the grey body bar, and walked around the basement for a few minutes with the bar on my shoulders and pretending my wrists were secured to the grey plastic. The sensations came back.
I would like to have my man tie me up to the body bar and lay me out on our queen sized water bed. The bar and my hands would sink into the surface, comfortable. I knew that I would not be able to get up or free myself. Happily helpless, hoping he would play with me and rouse me to a resounding orgasm. Or many.
The problem is that I have always railed against violence against women. I get quite hot under the collar when I read, hear or see such violence. Everyone knows, including my faithful hubby. But I suddenly have this need to be secured as described and to be brought to satisfaction. One of those things which I railed against.
So I am in a dilemma, and am asking your advice on how to ask my husband to secure me.
Mastillia.
---------------------------------
So TUGgers, what should Babigail (or her daughter) advise Mastillia?
ST
Method Acting (M/f)
by MisterB
I watched Abby demolish the breakfast special, the morning sun catching her blonde hair as we sat in the corner booth of the otherwise empty diner. “Best breakfast in Hollywood, kid,” I smiled as she mopped up the syrup with the last of her pancakes. She was the picture of a young professional actress, composed and mature beyond her years- far from the frightened young girl I met a few short hours ago.
She dabbed her lips with the corner of her napkin and looked up at me with big blue eyes that were well on their way to making her famous. “So this is really your job- kidnapping young actresses?”
I smiled- I was used to explaining this. “Yeah, well, it's a little known part of the industry, kid. Sometimes an actress needs to have an experience she can draw from for a role. Your mom said you have an audition coming up?”
The girl nodded. “Yeah, Crime and Justice- I'm trying out for a part tomorrow.”
“Right- well, you're playing a girl who gets kidnapped. You're going to have to act scared- even with the lighting crew standing around, and the director yelling 'cut', and all the distractions of being on the set. Your parents- and the studio- were worried you didn't have an experience you could draw from- that's where the studio brings me in.”
“Well, it worked!” , the young girl said with a winning smile, ” I've never been so scared in my life!”
“So tell me about the worst parts- your parents will be here soon to pick you up, and I want it fresh in your mind during your audition.”
She gazed up at the ceiling as she reviewed the night's events. “Well, the part where I woke up and you were standing over my bed with that mask on. And you put that tape over my mouth so I couldn't scream!”. She pondered a bit more, and a hint of the fear crept back into her face. “Then you tied me up and carried me away, and you put me in the trunk and it was super dark-- I was terrified!'
As she spoke, I replayed the scene in my mind- slipping into her room, gagging her with duct tape, then flipping her over onto her belly. I remembered pulling her hands behind her and taping her wrists, then moving to her legs to bind her bare little feet together. I relived the sensation of her small, wriggling body draped over my shoulder, her frightened whimpers, her eyes wide over the gag as I closed the trunk lid.
“Keep going,” I encouraged, “this will really help your audition.”
“Your basement was really scary too- I totally thought I'd never see home again!”
Ahh, my basement hideout, always guaranteed to leave an impression. I remembered all the young starlets who'd been my “guests”- I can't name names, but if you ever saw a young actress kidnapped in a show or movie, and thought she did a good job, chances are she's spent a night bound and gagged in my cellar.
Just then Roz, my favorite waitress, strolled over and gave me her trademarked stern look. “Brought another of your little victims into my diner, did ya?”. She turned and rested a hand on Abby's slender shoulder. “I'm guessing you've been tied up all night, sweetie?”
Abby smiled up at Roz, completely composed, the picture of a little Hollywood starlet. I could see in that instant that Abby was going to be huge. “Yeah, a bunch of ways- I was tied to a chair, up on my tippy toes with my hands over my head, and – what's the one where I'm on my belly and my feet are tied to my hands?”
“A hogtie, my dear.” I reminded her, relishing the memory of her perfect bare soles.
“That's it,“ she beamed, “And the worst part was that ball you put in my mouth!”
Roz shot a glare at me. “You used a ball gag on her? Seriously?”
I could only shrug. “The studio wanted the full package! What else was I gonna do?”
Abby's parents came in, followed by her agent, Murray. She ran up and gave them a big hug while Murray came straight to me. “Professional as always, “he said, slapping my back. “ The studio says If she can look that scared tomorrow, she's got the part for sure.”
“You monitored the live feed?”
“Yup, we watched the whole thing. Mom thought the tickling might have been a bit much, but I reminded her you're a pro.”
I replayed the scene in my mind, relishing the memory of my hands gliding up and down her soft arches while she whimpered and shrieked, powerless to stop me. “Just remind Abby how helpless she felt”, I told Murray, “it'll put her audition over the top.”
Abby and her folks came over and her dad shook my hand. “It feels weird to say this, but...thanks for doing such a great job kidnapping our little girl!”
“Just make me proud at that audition tomorrow, little star, “I said, tousling her hair affectionately. “I'm sure you're going to do great!”
Abby's face fell. “You're not coming tomorrow?” she asked, crestfallen.
“Sorry kiddo, I'm booked solid for the next few weeks.” In my head, I was already reviewing my next projects- a 15 year old preparing for an action film, twin 9 year-old sisters working on a pilot, plus a famous actress (who I'd worked with when she was a preteen) wanted me to work with her own daughter to help her break into the business.
Murray pulled me aside. “You know if she gets this part, the studio might want to schedule a refresher soon.”
I looked over at Abby, a young girl destined for stardom. “Murray, I'm pretty sure I can make that work!”
by MisterB
I watched Abby demolish the breakfast special, the morning sun catching her blonde hair as we sat in the corner booth of the otherwise empty diner. “Best breakfast in Hollywood, kid,” I smiled as she mopped up the syrup with the last of her pancakes. She was the picture of a young professional actress, composed and mature beyond her years- far from the frightened young girl I met a few short hours ago.
She dabbed her lips with the corner of her napkin and looked up at me with big blue eyes that were well on their way to making her famous. “So this is really your job- kidnapping young actresses?”
I smiled- I was used to explaining this. “Yeah, well, it's a little known part of the industry, kid. Sometimes an actress needs to have an experience she can draw from for a role. Your mom said you have an audition coming up?”
The girl nodded. “Yeah, Crime and Justice- I'm trying out for a part tomorrow.”
“Right- well, you're playing a girl who gets kidnapped. You're going to have to act scared- even with the lighting crew standing around, and the director yelling 'cut', and all the distractions of being on the set. Your parents- and the studio- were worried you didn't have an experience you could draw from- that's where the studio brings me in.”
“Well, it worked!” , the young girl said with a winning smile, ” I've never been so scared in my life!”
“So tell me about the worst parts- your parents will be here soon to pick you up, and I want it fresh in your mind during your audition.”
She gazed up at the ceiling as she reviewed the night's events. “Well, the part where I woke up and you were standing over my bed with that mask on. And you put that tape over my mouth so I couldn't scream!”. She pondered a bit more, and a hint of the fear crept back into her face. “Then you tied me up and carried me away, and you put me in the trunk and it was super dark-- I was terrified!'
As she spoke, I replayed the scene in my mind- slipping into her room, gagging her with duct tape, then flipping her over onto her belly. I remembered pulling her hands behind her and taping her wrists, then moving to her legs to bind her bare little feet together. I relived the sensation of her small, wriggling body draped over my shoulder, her frightened whimpers, her eyes wide over the gag as I closed the trunk lid.
“Keep going,” I encouraged, “this will really help your audition.”
“Your basement was really scary too- I totally thought I'd never see home again!”
Ahh, my basement hideout, always guaranteed to leave an impression. I remembered all the young starlets who'd been my “guests”- I can't name names, but if you ever saw a young actress kidnapped in a show or movie, and thought she did a good job, chances are she's spent a night bound and gagged in my cellar.
Just then Roz, my favorite waitress, strolled over and gave me her trademarked stern look. “Brought another of your little victims into my diner, did ya?”. She turned and rested a hand on Abby's slender shoulder. “I'm guessing you've been tied up all night, sweetie?”
Abby smiled up at Roz, completely composed, the picture of a little Hollywood starlet. I could see in that instant that Abby was going to be huge. “Yeah, a bunch of ways- I was tied to a chair, up on my tippy toes with my hands over my head, and – what's the one where I'm on my belly and my feet are tied to my hands?”
“A hogtie, my dear.” I reminded her, relishing the memory of her perfect bare soles.
“That's it,“ she beamed, “And the worst part was that ball you put in my mouth!”
Roz shot a glare at me. “You used a ball gag on her? Seriously?”
I could only shrug. “The studio wanted the full package! What else was I gonna do?”
Abby's parents came in, followed by her agent, Murray. She ran up and gave them a big hug while Murray came straight to me. “Professional as always, “he said, slapping my back. “ The studio says If she can look that scared tomorrow, she's got the part for sure.”
“You monitored the live feed?”
“Yup, we watched the whole thing. Mom thought the tickling might have been a bit much, but I reminded her you're a pro.”
I replayed the scene in my mind, relishing the memory of my hands gliding up and down her soft arches while she whimpered and shrieked, powerless to stop me. “Just remind Abby how helpless she felt”, I told Murray, “it'll put her audition over the top.”
Abby and her folks came over and her dad shook my hand. “It feels weird to say this, but...thanks for doing such a great job kidnapping our little girl!”
“Just make me proud at that audition tomorrow, little star, “I said, tousling her hair affectionately. “I'm sure you're going to do great!”
Abby's face fell. “You're not coming tomorrow?” she asked, crestfallen.
“Sorry kiddo, I'm booked solid for the next few weeks.” In my head, I was already reviewing my next projects- a 15 year old preparing for an action film, twin 9 year-old sisters working on a pilot, plus a famous actress (who I'd worked with when she was a preteen) wanted me to work with her own daughter to help her break into the business.
Murray pulled me aside. “You know if she gets this part, the studio might want to schedule a refresher soon.”
I looked over at Abby, a young girl destined for stardom. “Murray, I'm pretty sure I can make that work!”
-
BlissfulMisery
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 285
- Joined: 1 year ago
A Grave Mistake (M/F)
The stairs creaked in protest as we made our way down to the unfinished basement room, a dangling lightbulb acting as the only illumination for the musty-smelling space.
My guilt weighed heavily upon me as I pondered the reason why I was here. Hesitating, I paused, my hand nervously brushing loose strands of raven-black hair out of my face while I cast a worried glance back towards Master.
His stern gaze was the only response I got, and so I turned forwards again, letting my question go unspoken - how bad was it going to be?
Unspoken, because I already knew the answer - worse then I hoped, and exactly what I deserved. And I had really messed up this time...
I stood where he pointed, right in the center of the room, my platform boots emitting one last rubbery squeak against the concrete floor before coming to a standstill. He presented me with a ball gag - black, nearly matching my painted lips, which obediently opened to accept it. As he fastened it in place, the leather straps pressed uncomfortably into the sides of my mouth, giving it a slight pucker. Still, I did not complain.
I stayed still as he applied my bindings - first my ankles, followed by more rope above and below my knees, the white rope contrasting with my fishnet stockings. Two more coils of rope went above and below my breasts, forcing my chest out, straining my black dress as the ropes dug in hard. Again I did not complain.
Then, my arms were brought behind me into an armbinder, the leather creaking and groaning as the laces were fully done up, my arms forced tightly together.
A final rope was tied to the metal ring that adorned the end of the armbinder, which was hoisted through a metal loop drilled into a wooden beam above me, compelling my leather-encased hands to follow the pull. The resulting strain on my shoulders forced me to bend over, down, down, down... Finally, when I thought I could go no further, the rope was tied off, leaving me in a strappado position, head down and rear up.
Ready, presenting myself for punishment.
A shiver ran down my spine when I saw the implement he had selected - the cane. My eyes pleaded for mercy.
"Oh come now, young lady. You know what you did - did you really think you were going to get off easily?" He smiled.
I hung my head. He was right - I deserved this. He had trusted me, and I had let him down.
"I think six will do."
Six strokes. A small price to pay. At least that was what I tried to tell myself.
He assumed position beside me, flipping up the skirt of my dress, baring my pale buttocks. Humiliating, as if the situation were not already so, as now I had only my black lace underwear to protect my modesty.
I took a deep breath. Fuck, this was going to hurt.
The cane whistled through the air, landing with a sharp *SLAP*. For a split second, I felt nothing but pressure, but then...
Pain. A lance of fire across my bottom. I yelped, but it was only the beginning as the sensation burrowed into me, rapidly transforming from a burning to a deep stinging that only grew worse for a time before peaking.
I desperately wanted to move, react, try to work the pain out of my body, but my bondage meant any movement strained my already taxed shoulders, and so all I could do was wiggle my hips, fighting my instinct to struggle as adrenaline surged uselessly through me. To make matters worse, there was a long pause between each stroke, making sure I would fully experience this entire cycle before fresh pain had a chance to overwhelm the old.
Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Six neat lines of white-hot agony etched across my bottom, every one accompanied by a muffled cry.
By the time the ordeal was over, my face was red and I was trembling, sweat running down my whole body. Gag-induced drool coated my chin and threatened to drip onto the floor below me as tears mixed with dark eyeshadow ran down my face, my jaw aching from repeatedly biting down.
Another deep breath. Relief. I had survived.
"Now for some alone time - to think on what you have done."
I groaned and nodded in acknowledgement. Still, the worst was over.
With those words, the light was turned off and he went upstairs, leaving me alone in complete darkness. Alone with my thoughts, in my uncomfortable position, forced to stay still. And alone with my pain, for I could still keenly feel the stinging aftermath of each and every stroke - in the darkness and silence it was difficult to focus on anything else. Mercifully, the pain *had* begun to dull, settling ever so slowly into a still-intense throbbing, with just the beginnings of pleasant warmth spreading across my bruised skin.
At that moment I would have given anything to be able to rub my bottom, to soothe the stinging. To trace the beautiful lines etched into my flesh - symbols of his love.
I shivered at the thought. Yes, he had given me *exactly* what I needed. And while I had dreaded my punishment, I now found myself feeling emotionally renewed. Confident, stronger and more in control of myself - a natural high that was only amplified by my strict bonds and sore rear, the conflicting sensations a sweet mix of pain and pleasure, a wonderful catharsis that only the cane could deliver...
The corners of my gagged mouth did their best to curl up into a pained smile as I thought back to the reason for my current predicament. For indeed, the punishment had been effective - I knew better now then to accidentally put an extra cube of sugar into Master's morning coffee!
The stairs creaked in protest as we made our way down to the unfinished basement room, a dangling lightbulb acting as the only illumination for the musty-smelling space.
My guilt weighed heavily upon me as I pondered the reason why I was here. Hesitating, I paused, my hand nervously brushing loose strands of raven-black hair out of my face while I cast a worried glance back towards Master.
His stern gaze was the only response I got, and so I turned forwards again, letting my question go unspoken - how bad was it going to be?
Unspoken, because I already knew the answer - worse then I hoped, and exactly what I deserved. And I had really messed up this time...
I stood where he pointed, right in the center of the room, my platform boots emitting one last rubbery squeak against the concrete floor before coming to a standstill. He presented me with a ball gag - black, nearly matching my painted lips, which obediently opened to accept it. As he fastened it in place, the leather straps pressed uncomfortably into the sides of my mouth, giving it a slight pucker. Still, I did not complain.
I stayed still as he applied my bindings - first my ankles, followed by more rope above and below my knees, the white rope contrasting with my fishnet stockings. Two more coils of rope went above and below my breasts, forcing my chest out, straining my black dress as the ropes dug in hard. Again I did not complain.
Then, my arms were brought behind me into an armbinder, the leather creaking and groaning as the laces were fully done up, my arms forced tightly together.
A final rope was tied to the metal ring that adorned the end of the armbinder, which was hoisted through a metal loop drilled into a wooden beam above me, compelling my leather-encased hands to follow the pull. The resulting strain on my shoulders forced me to bend over, down, down, down... Finally, when I thought I could go no further, the rope was tied off, leaving me in a strappado position, head down and rear up.
Ready, presenting myself for punishment.
A shiver ran down my spine when I saw the implement he had selected - the cane. My eyes pleaded for mercy.
"Oh come now, young lady. You know what you did - did you really think you were going to get off easily?" He smiled.
I hung my head. He was right - I deserved this. He had trusted me, and I had let him down.
"I think six will do."
Six strokes. A small price to pay. At least that was what I tried to tell myself.
He assumed position beside me, flipping up the skirt of my dress, baring my pale buttocks. Humiliating, as if the situation were not already so, as now I had only my black lace underwear to protect my modesty.
I took a deep breath. Fuck, this was going to hurt.
The cane whistled through the air, landing with a sharp *SLAP*. For a split second, I felt nothing but pressure, but then...
Pain. A lance of fire across my bottom. I yelped, but it was only the beginning as the sensation burrowed into me, rapidly transforming from a burning to a deep stinging that only grew worse for a time before peaking.
I desperately wanted to move, react, try to work the pain out of my body, but my bondage meant any movement strained my already taxed shoulders, and so all I could do was wiggle my hips, fighting my instinct to struggle as adrenaline surged uselessly through me. To make matters worse, there was a long pause between each stroke, making sure I would fully experience this entire cycle before fresh pain had a chance to overwhelm the old.
Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Six neat lines of white-hot agony etched across my bottom, every one accompanied by a muffled cry.
By the time the ordeal was over, my face was red and I was trembling, sweat running down my whole body. Gag-induced drool coated my chin and threatened to drip onto the floor below me as tears mixed with dark eyeshadow ran down my face, my jaw aching from repeatedly biting down.
Another deep breath. Relief. I had survived.
"Now for some alone time - to think on what you have done."
I groaned and nodded in acknowledgement. Still, the worst was over.
With those words, the light was turned off and he went upstairs, leaving me alone in complete darkness. Alone with my thoughts, in my uncomfortable position, forced to stay still. And alone with my pain, for I could still keenly feel the stinging aftermath of each and every stroke - in the darkness and silence it was difficult to focus on anything else. Mercifully, the pain *had* begun to dull, settling ever so slowly into a still-intense throbbing, with just the beginnings of pleasant warmth spreading across my bruised skin.
At that moment I would have given anything to be able to rub my bottom, to soothe the stinging. To trace the beautiful lines etched into my flesh - symbols of his love.
I shivered at the thought. Yes, he had given me *exactly* what I needed. And while I had dreaded my punishment, I now found myself feeling emotionally renewed. Confident, stronger and more in control of myself - a natural high that was only amplified by my strict bonds and sore rear, the conflicting sensations a sweet mix of pain and pleasure, a wonderful catharsis that only the cane could deliver...
The corners of my gagged mouth did their best to curl up into a pained smile as I thought back to the reason for my current predicament. For indeed, the punishment had been effective - I knew better now then to accidentally put an extra cube of sugar into Master's morning coffee!
-
charliesmith
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 332
- Joined: 6 years ago
Silent Night (F/Fm)
“Do you think this is a good idea, Kate?” Jennifer asked, with a look of doubt on her face.
“Yes, Henry will love the surprise. Right, Ben?” Kate replied and glanced at her 13 year old son.
“Dad does like surprises.” He mused as he looked at his mother and her friend.
The time was currently 5PM and Henry was stated to return home from work around 6:30.
“Yes, I have all the things we might need by the tree.” Kate answered and walked up the decorated tree in the middle of the living room.
“Cute outfits, by the way.” Jennifer grinned, looking at Kate and Ben as they stood before the Christmas tree.
Ben was dressed up like an elf, wearing a green tunic and a pair of red leggings. He also had a pair of green curly shoes on his feet. He looked adorable as a little elf. Kate meanwhile was dressed up in a sexy Mrs Claus costume - A flared red dress that came well above her knees and showed a hint of cleavage. Black fishnet stockings adorned her legs and a black belt was looped around her waist. Her blonde hair flowed free behind her shoulders.
“Thank you. Here is the setup, Ben and I will be sitting on the floor, in front of the tree. You will be tying us up back to back using the materials inside this.” Kate said, tossing a small maroon holdall bag to Jennifer.
Kate held Ben’s hand and helped him sit down and positioned her back behind his, while Jennifer looked into the bag and raised her eyebrow. Without saying anything, Jennifer fished out the bundle of red ropes from the bag and kneeled down on the floor, beside Kate and Ben.
Jennifer guided Ben’s hands behind his back, making him wrap it around his mother’s tummy. She then started to bind his wrists together with the rope by wrapping and cinching it.
“Too tight?”
Ben shook his head and smiled. Jennifer then wrapped the next piece of rope around his ankles, securing them.
“Now, time to tie up mommy.” Jennifer teased and moved towards Kate with more rope in her hands.
Kate grinned and placed her hands behind, wrapping it around Ben’s tummy as Jennifer secured them nicely with the red ropes. Her ankles were bound next. Jennifer then followed it up by wrapping a rope around both their waist, to further secure them together. She smiled at her work, happy with how she had tied up the mother and son.
“Good work. You can gag us before you leave. There is a red sock in the bag for Ben and you will find….something else next to it for me.” Kate said, blushing at the end.
Jennifer picked out the long red sock which belonged to Kate, from the bag. She also grabbed the item next to it - A bright red 2inch ball gag! Kate smiled sheepishly when Jennifer raised her eyebrow.
“Open your mouth, Ben.” Jennifer said.
Ben obliged, being the good boy he is. The red sock was pulled into his mouth, parting his lips and sat between his teeth while Jennifer tied the ends of the long sock behind his head.
“Your turn.” Jennifer said, holding the ends of the black leather strap.
Kate took a deep breath and opened her mouth wide. The bright red ball was pushed into her mouth, filling her oral cavity as her luscious lips rested on the ball. Jennifer leaned forward and lifted her blonde hair up, before buckling the leather strap behind Kate’s head.
“Hmmmphmm!” Kate mumbled.
“Will you two be alright now?” Jennifer looked at the two of them on the floor as she stood up.
Kate nodded. How bad can it be? Henry would be returning home within an hour. She can manage till then with Ben tied to her. Her jaws might hurt a little due to the ball gag, but she didn’t mind that as Henry loved seeing it in her mouth.
“Take care. Tell me Henry’s reaction later.” Jennifer said and left the two of them alone bound and gagged under the Christmas tree.
Kate and Ben rested their backs against each other as Jennifer left. They had a whole hour to pass before Henry would walk in to find them. Kate was calm and confident about this surprise.
***
Henry parked his car in the driveway and glanced down at his watch. It was 11:30PM. He was 5 hours late. He had tried calling up Kate to inform, but she hadn’t answered her phone. Worried about what might have happened, he quickly exited the car and made his way to the front door.
“Honey, I am home.” He called out, making his way inside the house.
All he could hear was some mumbling sounds coming from the living room as he made a dash for it. There, in front of the Christmas tree was the biggest shock of his life. His wife and son were dressed up in some Christmasy costume and were bound back to back! As he came closer, he noticed the two of them were gagged, although in a completely contrasting manner. His young son had Kate’s red socks tied between his lips and teeth, and his wife…. His gorgeous wife had a bright red ball gag strapped tightly into her mouth. He realized it must have been in her mouth for a long time as he noticed her drooling profusely from the ball gag. It was quite the mess as both of them were sweating and had their clothes clinging to their body.
“Dear, Lord! Who did this?” Henry asked, frantically unbuckling the strap behind his wife’s head.
Kate gasped as the red ball was removed from her mouth. Her jaws were aching bad as she looked at her husband.
“Well, I know better now.” She mumbled, exhausted and repenting the idea of surprising her husband today.
“Do you think this is a good idea, Kate?” Jennifer asked, with a look of doubt on her face.
“Yes, Henry will love the surprise. Right, Ben?” Kate replied and glanced at her 13 year old son.
“Dad does like surprises.” He mused as he looked at his mother and her friend.
The time was currently 5PM and Henry was stated to return home from work around 6:30.
“Yes, I have all the things we might need by the tree.” Kate answered and walked up the decorated tree in the middle of the living room.
“Cute outfits, by the way.” Jennifer grinned, looking at Kate and Ben as they stood before the Christmas tree.
Ben was dressed up like an elf, wearing a green tunic and a pair of red leggings. He also had a pair of green curly shoes on his feet. He looked adorable as a little elf. Kate meanwhile was dressed up in a sexy Mrs Claus costume - A flared red dress that came well above her knees and showed a hint of cleavage. Black fishnet stockings adorned her legs and a black belt was looped around her waist. Her blonde hair flowed free behind her shoulders.
“Thank you. Here is the setup, Ben and I will be sitting on the floor, in front of the tree. You will be tying us up back to back using the materials inside this.” Kate said, tossing a small maroon holdall bag to Jennifer.
Kate held Ben’s hand and helped him sit down and positioned her back behind his, while Jennifer looked into the bag and raised her eyebrow. Without saying anything, Jennifer fished out the bundle of red ropes from the bag and kneeled down on the floor, beside Kate and Ben.
Jennifer guided Ben’s hands behind his back, making him wrap it around his mother’s tummy. She then started to bind his wrists together with the rope by wrapping and cinching it.
“Too tight?”
Ben shook his head and smiled. Jennifer then wrapped the next piece of rope around his ankles, securing them.
“Now, time to tie up mommy.” Jennifer teased and moved towards Kate with more rope in her hands.
Kate grinned and placed her hands behind, wrapping it around Ben’s tummy as Jennifer secured them nicely with the red ropes. Her ankles were bound next. Jennifer then followed it up by wrapping a rope around both their waist, to further secure them together. She smiled at her work, happy with how she had tied up the mother and son.
“Good work. You can gag us before you leave. There is a red sock in the bag for Ben and you will find….something else next to it for me.” Kate said, blushing at the end.
Jennifer picked out the long red sock which belonged to Kate, from the bag. She also grabbed the item next to it - A bright red 2inch ball gag! Kate smiled sheepishly when Jennifer raised her eyebrow.
“Open your mouth, Ben.” Jennifer said.
Ben obliged, being the good boy he is. The red sock was pulled into his mouth, parting his lips and sat between his teeth while Jennifer tied the ends of the long sock behind his head.
“Your turn.” Jennifer said, holding the ends of the black leather strap.
Kate took a deep breath and opened her mouth wide. The bright red ball was pushed into her mouth, filling her oral cavity as her luscious lips rested on the ball. Jennifer leaned forward and lifted her blonde hair up, before buckling the leather strap behind Kate’s head.
“Hmmmphmm!” Kate mumbled.
“Will you two be alright now?” Jennifer looked at the two of them on the floor as she stood up.
Kate nodded. How bad can it be? Henry would be returning home within an hour. She can manage till then with Ben tied to her. Her jaws might hurt a little due to the ball gag, but she didn’t mind that as Henry loved seeing it in her mouth.
“Take care. Tell me Henry’s reaction later.” Jennifer said and left the two of them alone bound and gagged under the Christmas tree.
Kate and Ben rested their backs against each other as Jennifer left. They had a whole hour to pass before Henry would walk in to find them. Kate was calm and confident about this surprise.
***
Henry parked his car in the driveway and glanced down at his watch. It was 11:30PM. He was 5 hours late. He had tried calling up Kate to inform, but she hadn’t answered her phone. Worried about what might have happened, he quickly exited the car and made his way to the front door.
“Honey, I am home.” He called out, making his way inside the house.
All he could hear was some mumbling sounds coming from the living room as he made a dash for it. There, in front of the Christmas tree was the biggest shock of his life. His wife and son were dressed up in some Christmasy costume and were bound back to back! As he came closer, he noticed the two of them were gagged, although in a completely contrasting manner. His young son had Kate’s red socks tied between his lips and teeth, and his wife…. His gorgeous wife had a bright red ball gag strapped tightly into her mouth. He realized it must have been in her mouth for a long time as he noticed her drooling profusely from the ball gag. It was quite the mess as both of them were sweating and had their clothes clinging to their body.
“Dear, Lord! Who did this?” Henry asked, frantically unbuckling the strap behind his wife’s head.
Kate gasped as the red ball was removed from her mouth. Her jaws were aching bad as she looked at her husband.
“Well, I know better now.” She mumbled, exhausted and repenting the idea of surprising her husband today.
THANKS FOR ALL THE ENTRIES SO FAR!
LAST DAY FOR ENTRIES:
THURSDAY 7TH DECEMBER
THURSDAY 7TH DECEMBER
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
Entries are now closed
The judges will now come to a decision. We hope to be able to make an announcement by New Year's Day.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
STOP PRESS
Due to problems with access, not all the judges have been able to come to any decisions.
SORRY!
Please bear with us we shall complete our considerations as soon as possible
Xtc
Due to problems with access, not all the judges have been able to come to any decisions.
SORRY!
Please bear with us we shall complete our considerations as soon as possible
Xtc
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
Story Competition Results
Access problems and difficult decisions to make have delayed the declaration of results.
According to one of the judges: “A very excellent collection of stories this time. It was hard to pick three because that meant NOT picking all the others, any of which were worthy of winning.” Indeed, there was considerable disagreement between the judging panel. However, by a majority decision, here is the final result:
Third Place: An Unexpected Night at the Museum by @Bigballgag1, which appeared on more judges’ lists than any other tale.
Comments: This started out feeling like it was taking a portion of the movie ‘Night at the Museum’ into a larger effect but ended up being a larger idea that I liked. I would love to see this taken into a larger story.
Good plot, well written and edited, with supernatural elements and a fun ending (smirking models). Well done!
An unexpected night at home.
Second Place: “Method Acting” by @MisterB,
Comments: I liked this original idea and how simple and innocent it all seemed. Strangely enough, I could see this happening in a larger story and in real life to a degree.
First Place: “A Door Opens” by @tiedinbluetights, who got the most first choices.
Comments: This just reminded me of being a kid and starting to figure out your choices in this community and the innocence of it all.
It seems Joe, indeed, knows better now. Good way of displaying someone’s awakening to these games.
The decision was a difficult one and it was tempting to declare more winning positions but it would have been somewhat like “prizes for all”. Thanks to all those who entered.
I shall now ask @chadmc90 to update the profiles of the winners.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
-
tiedinbluetights
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 623
- Joined: 2 years ago
- Location: Canada
Oh My!
I want to thank all the participants, as I loved reading every one of their stories. With Joe, Simon and their sister Roxie all knocking on my door now, I'm not sure I'll be able to contain the rest of their stories to within 1000 words
And thanks to all the judges I'm sure our collective intention as participants was not to make the decision a tough one: TUGers just wanna have fun ...
I want to thank all the participants, as I loved reading every one of their stories. With Joe, Simon and their sister Roxie all knocking on my door now, I'm not sure I'll be able to contain the rest of their stories to within 1000 words
And thanks to all the judges
I'm sure our collective intention as participants was not to make the decision a tough one: TUGers just wanna have fun ... Love to be tied-up I read and write stories for fun
Open to friendly PMs
(I don't do roleplays nor story requests)
To be honest, It was a hard decision. I only hope any future contests will be as will populated and of an equally high standard.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
Wow, second place! Thanks for the recognition, and for all the great entries in this contest. I might spin my entry out into a few additional stories- but I'd welcome anyone else who'd like to pick up the ideas and run with them.
By all means extend the idea. I'd be glad to see it.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.