Sunday (m/F F/m) The Play Part 2

[Bondageboi]

I’m spending a bit longer writing this time and proof reading first. This is a sequel to

http://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=8 ... aaa199d862


It had been late, or early morning, that mum had left the after-show party with me. It was only a short walk home so mum had a few drinks but was not drunk. I’d only seen her drunk once, at granny’s house shortly after dad ran away. Well into bed late , or early, means getting up late and it was after 10 o’clock that I crawled into mum’s room and gave her a big hug and said how good she was in the play, for the hundredth time or so. She thanked me, again, and gave me a kiss before getting up and going downstairs to make waffles and coffee.

We sat in the lounge eating breakfast and again I asked her about being tied up in the play: was it uncomfortable, was she stiff, did she feel frightened etc. She actually said she kind of enjoyed it. “You see I was on stage more than anyone else. So normally I’d have to learn pages and pages of lines for that.” I knew from experience mum took learning her lines seriously and painfully. I’d end up reading the other parts of the script for her and she’d say my timing or delivery was wrong, so she’d record herself reading the other parts and fill in her bits from memory, so actually I often knew lots of lines in the pantomime before seeing it. “Well you see this time,” she said, “in the whole of the second act all I said was “Mmmppphhh” and in most of the third act too. It was only the first act and less than ten lines in the last scene I had to learn any words.”

“But what about being tied up in the dressing room?”

“That was quite relaxing too. Normally I’m in the wings trying to remember my cues or passing out props. Well this time I sat in a chair as everyone else worked round me , I was carried onto stage when it was my scene and I was waited on with drinks and chocolate. In fact I’m going to ask if there are any more productions with women tied up whom I can play.” She laughed. “In fact being tied up at home whilst you cook and clean and feed me sounds good too.”

“You want my cooking?” I burst out laughing.

“Hey you are good. I’ve taught you spaghetti bolognaise, pasta carbonara, chilli, macaroni cheese, and how much effort is it to put chips in the oven, peas on the hob and burgers or sausages under the grill. I’ve made sure when you go to university you will not live off takeaways and microwave lasagna. Talking of which, I must teach you how to make lasagna one day soon.”

We joked a bit more then mum said “Do you want to tie me up and cook lunch for me? I’m tired after four performances and two rehearsals this week, so could do with a lazy Sunday morning.” It was almost 12! Without waiting for an answer, Mum went upstairs and returned a few minutes later with a bag of lengths of rope. It never occurred to me why she would have a bag of rope. Mum kept lots of things: boxes of buttons and beads, a bag of balls of wool, a bag of single socks kept in the hopes their partner would turn up one day, scrap paper. Basically lots of things which might come in useful one day. I just supposed her bag of rope was one of these.

Anyway, she sat cross legged on the floor and held her hands behind her back whilst I wrapped the rope round them five or six times and tied with a reef knot. I then sat back and waited to see what she’d do. What she did was stay sitting cross
legged and wiggle her arms about a bit. Within less than five minutes she reached her hands in front of herself and held the untied length of rope in her left hand.

“Let’s see if you’re better at escaping than tying me up shall we?” She said, and before I could do anything she knelt behind me and tied my hands behind my back. Now I didn’t see that instead of just wrapping like I had done to her wrists, she wrapped mine about five times then cinched twice between my wrists, making the loops grip securely, with out being two tight around and cutting circulation, then she tied the knot. I began struggling like she had, wiggling my arms, rubbing my wrists up and down trying to find the knot or wriggle my hands out, but everything stayed tightly tied.

It was more than fifteen minutes and I had made no progress. Then I realised if I couldn’t get my hands free behind my back I’d have to get them free in front of me. I rocked back onto my shoulders and feet and strained to get my hands under my bottom. Once my wrists were tied behind my knees , I rocked onto my back and kicked my legs about until I got my right foot, then left foot through the loop made by my arms. And now my hands were in front of me.

That was when I noticed instead of being simply wrapped, the knot was buried between my wrists and the rope was tied around itself. It was a struggle over the course of another ten minutes to get the knot with my tongue and teeth, to loosen it, then eventually I managed to wriggle my hands free. It was more than half an hour altogether it took me to untie my hands, with mum laughing at me and making put down comments all the time. When I was finished she said “I managed to get my hands free behind my back, and without using my teeth. And what would you have done if you were gagged?” She mimed pulling a scarf between her teeth. “You’re going to need some practice if you’re going to tie me up and cook lunch.”

I was a bit upset. OK she’s my mum and should know things I don’t etc. but she took less than five minutes to escape with ease. I struggled for over half an hour and had to use my teeth. “Shall I show you a trick?” She asked me. I nodded.

Mum took a piece of rope and stuck her feet out in front of her. She then demonstrated how she’d wrap five times, cinch twice and burry the knot between her ankles. She explained that this made the ropes tighter in the outside not the inside and it was how you tied two sticks or poles together. (Or hands and feet!) I thought. Next she made me practice tying her legs below, then above her knees. Once she was satisfied I’d got it, she shuffled round and held her hands behind her. “OK. Same principle. Tie my hands behind my back.”

I wrapped the rope five times round her wrists, pulling* them together, then cinched twice, and a third time just to make sure she couldn’t escape. Then I tied a reef knot.

“Very good .” She said. “You just have to blindfold and gag me now.”

“What with?”

“Go to my bedroom. Look at the shelves left hand side of the wardrobe. Get the lime green and the black scarves. And bring the bag of odd socks too .”

For once I did as I was told. I came back a few minutes later with the bits and she gave me my next instructions. It was funny. Almost as she said. Mum was the one tied up, but she was giving instructions and I was doing all the work.

“OK. Once you have gagged me, if it is an emergency, like I can’t breathe, or sudden pain, or I need the toilet I’ll either snap my fingers like this.” Click click click. She made the clicking noise. “or I’ll do SOS in morse code: mmm mmm mmm Mmmpppghhh MMMPppnnggg Mmmpppnnmmgg. Mmm mmm mmm.” I nodded my understanding.

“OK . Fold the black scarf into a 5cm wide band then tie it over my eyes, tie it right down behind my neck so it slopes down and backwards and is pulled over the bridge of my nose so it won’t slip off.” I did as instructed again. “Now get one of the white socks, Ankle socks, then take the lime green scarf. Roll the scarf into a narrow band and then put the sock in my mouth, pull the scarf between my teeth to hold in in place and knot it behind my head. Make sure the ends pass over the blindfold on the sides of my head. Then go get lunch ready.” I did not pause to think why I was being given such precise instructions nor how mum would know the minute details of tying someone up. I just did what I was told.

So there was Mum all tied up. Wearing red tartan trousers, white vest top, bare feet, ankles and knees tied, hands tied behind her back, gagged with a white sock and green scarf cleve gag and blindfolded with a black scarf. Just as I sat there watching her wriggle and test her bonds and think should I go get lunch or sit and tease her, there was a knock at the door. We both sat rigid, not daring to move. The lounge could not be seen from the front of the house. Our secret was safe. We just had to keep quiet so no one knew we were here. Then I heard a key in the lock. A voice I almost recognised called Mum’s name. Then to my surprise mum started calling into her gag: “Mmnnpphh. Mmnnggg. Mmmnnnnmm.” She was trying to get the visitor to come into the lounge.

The lounge door opened and there stood Rebecca.

[Jennyjay]

This reads a lot better than the first. I wonder if he’s begin8ng to wonder yet why mum knows so much about tying people up, has all the kit and why does Rebecca have a key to their house?

[charliesmith]

Awesome update. This is turning out to be a very interesting series! Hoping to read more

[Bondageboi]

A couple of nice comments makes all the difference.

Just a quick update today.



“Well who’s a little rope bunny then?”

Rebecca was standing in our lounge wearing red top, denim skirt to her mid thighs, tan tights and white flats. She was staring at us in our PJs with Mum all tied up , but she seemed to be amused more than shocked or frightened or angry.

“Tied up twice yesterday, two performances and two rehearsals in the week. Now you trick that cute little boy of yours to tie you up today. Anyone would think you were enjoying this!”

She knelt down on the floor, kicking her shoes off as she did and looked at the ropes on mum’s legs. “Looks like you’ve done a good job.” She said to me, then looked at mums back. “Could have tied her arms better though. Now let’s see how secure this all is.” With that she began to tickle Mum’s bare feet.

Mum made “mmmpphhing” sounds through her gag (but not the (SOS) I was to listen for. And she kicked her feet. Rebecca grabbed the rope tied around her ankles and continued to scrape her nails down Mum’s soles. Mum’s muffled screams got louder and more frantic but she never gave the danger signals.

Then to my surprise, Rebecca pulled out a longer length of rope and sat behind Mum. “One last thing I think.” She tied Mum’s arms together, just above her elbows , and wrapped the long ends of the rope a few times round mum’s chest before tying the rope again , behind her back and to the upper arm ropes.

Once she’d finished tying Mum up even more she turned to me and handed me a piece of rope. “Is this a private party or do I get tied up too?” And with than she turned round, her back to me, and held her hands behind her.

[lauragagged]

A very good story! I like it

[JulieG]

Interesting story. The writing is so much better than the first submission. Clearly a fantasy I hope it stays sex free, but the details of ties and the very strange evolving tale are wonderful.

[NabHer]

Always been a fan of tie up games between moms and their sons. Especially if they're well written such as this one.

I can't help but wonder if Rebecca will end up getting her stockigned feet played with aswell.

[Bondageboi]

It was a sudden shock and an odd request, but honestly no more odd than anything which had happened so far today. So I worked on auto pilot almost, and took the rope as Rebecca held her hands together, fingers interlocked and I tied her wrists together, wrapping six times and pulling the rope between her wrists three times before knotting off and burying the knot deep in the coils and away from her fingers.

“Do my elbows too.” She said “Tie the ropes round my upper arms like I did to your mum. You won’t get them to touch but pull tight. Mmmmm yes that’s it. Now wrap the ropes between my arms like you did your mum’s hands and feet. Good. OK. After you’ve knotted it wrap the long ends round my chest, and tie it all off behind. Excellent . Tie my legs next.”

She had given me clear , step by step instructions how to the her arms behind her back and she now sat with her legs stretched out straight in front of her, pressed together. Before I started I had a thought. “Can you click your fingers?”

“Why?”

“Safety signal.”

“Mmpphhff. Mnnggh. Mpphh. Mnnggmm.” From Mum. Rebecca clicked her fingers a few times.

“OK. Now I know if you want to be untied.”

“But my dear boy, why on earth would I want to be untied. The whole point of being tied up is I don’t have a choice in things.”

“You might need the toilet, or you can’t breathe.”

“Mmnnggpphh Ming.”

“OK. Yes I can click my fingers.”

“And make a morse code SOS?” Rebecca demonstrated her ability to understand morse code, even if with no gag.

Turning back to her legs, I began to tie her ankles together with the same principle Mum had shown me and I had then practised: 5 or 6 wraps, two cinches! Reef knot. I did this again at her knees just below and just above. “What about my thighs.” She asked.

I gulped as her skirt seemed quite short, and even with tights on I shouldn’t really be looking up women’s skirts I’d been told, but Rebecca insisted. So I tied one more rope six turns and two cinches just at the hem of her denim mini skirt. “Is that secure?” I asked.

“Only one way to find out.” She said. She wiggled her toes in her tights before scooting round and putting her feet on my knees. I scraped my fingers over her nylon feet , tickled and scratched her soles, wiggled and poked my finger between her toes. Her feet were clearly very sensitive because she immediately started screaming and thrashing shouting “no. No.” So I stopped.

“Why did you stop?”

“You said “NO”.”

“Wel,I didn’t mean it. You better gag me before I scream for help, or disturb your neighbours.”

I realised later , that she was having now, was that internal dilemma, which I would later experience, in which she hated being tickled, but loved to be tickled at the same time, so demanded to be tied up before tickling. I didn’t have any of Mum’s scarves now and was not going to use any without permission in case I damaged her favourite ones. I searched the odd sock bag and found another white sock, with different stitched pattern to the one gagging Mum, and two long socks: one dark grey one yellow.

I flattened the dark grey into a bandage shape and tied it round Rebecca’s eyes, pulling down to her neck at the back like I’d done with Mum. I then pushed the white sock into her mouth with minimum resistance on her part, then tied the yellow knee sock between her teeth, making sure it passed over her blindfold at the sides, and tied it behind her head.

I sat back and looked at my mum all tied up, blindfolded and gagged in her PJs, and her friend next to her in tights and miniskirt, both with their legs out in front of them and the soles of their feet pointing towards me. I did the only thing I could sensibly do. I began to tickle their feet.

[charliesmith]

That was FUN. I hope you write more of these

[Bondageboi]

Sorrry for the wait. I’ve got ideas just need time to write them properly

[MrBind]

Really enjoying this

[Bondageboi]

Mum has always been extremely ticklish. She used to ask me for a foot rub but all too easily I could catch her soles with my finger nail, or perhaps stroke her sole with finger tips rather than a firm rubbing and she would rapidly go from giggles to fits of hysterics with no mid ground. She did not seem to mind too much and always put her feet back for me to rub. This time however she could not pull her feet away as I held the rope binding her ankles and she rolled round, shrieking and screaming into her gag, but never once giving the emergency sighn. If ever I stopped, instead of guarding her feet or trying to crawl away she’d stick her feet straight out for me to tickle again.

All this time, her friend Rebecca was unable to see what was happening, but did giggle a little, and also tried to sit on her own feet as if protecting them. I continued to tickle Mum, scraping nails over her bare soles and putting my fingers between her toes. Mum was panting and I did feel a little sorry for her when I decided to stop tickling and give her a rest.

Blindfolded, Rebecca did not know why the laughing had stopped and was defenceless when I grabbed her ankle ropes and ran my fingers up the soles of her nylon covered feet. I wondered if the brushing feeling against my nails gave her feet more of a tickle, or was she just more ticklish than my mum. Whereas Mum had given a little giggle first, Rebecca shrieked into her gag immediately and managed to pull her feet away from my hands, so energetic was her jerk. I managed to get my hands to her feet again but she rolled over, knocking into Mum and then I had her feet trapped. I used my knees to press her lower legs against Mum’s and Rebecca could not bend her knees as I scratched her soles and backs of knees.

Her top half shook back and forth until her legs slipped free and she managed to kick me in the face. I was knocked back but quickly sat up again. She was lying face down panting through her nose, still heavily gagged. I began to tickle her feet again along with her legs in general. She flopped around like a fish flapping on the floor. She continued screaming, but never gave the safety signals, as I ran my fingers down her legs and over her feet. I actually loved the feeling of the nylon on my fingers for some reason.

I went back to my Mum’s bare feet, leaving Rebecca panting. Mum was ticklish but nowhere near as much as Rebecca. She squirmed and shrieked, but never managed to pull her feet free from my hands.

I looked at my two captives, Mum on her side, Rebecca face down, both short of breath. I asked if they were both OK, they nodded, or wanted to be untied, they shook their heads.

So I went off to make macaroni cheese for lunch.