Memoirs of Peter S aged 14 and 3/4 m/f+ (Part 7 added)

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Emma
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Post by Emma »

Very good exposition by Peter; very realistic! The attitude of his parents is also convincing. It's sure to make what's coming next reasonable and believable :)
Don's Stories, Posted by Emma, Are Here!:https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=46&t=5915
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Post by Bandit666 »

Thank you so much Emma, your support is really appreciated and I hope to keep this up over the coming chapters as Peters bondage experiences start for real. Not to mention his thoughts and feelings change :)
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Post by Bandit666 »

Part five up date, I’m pleased to say it’s well underway and should be posted within the next few days. Just please bare with me as it’s not easy to get it to read well and stay in character to ensure it retains its integrity and believability

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Post by tieduptee »

Really good story that captures the essence of a beginner into the world of bondage!

It's probably the way we've all felt when we found out we were interested in this stuff so it really resonates with me that way. Keep up the good work though! :)
Tie me up, stuff something in my mouth, wrap some tape around it and let's have some fun!

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Post by Bandit666 »

Thanks Tee that’s certainly part of what the stories intended to do as you say we’ve all been there at sometime or another :)
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Part five

As we left the kitchen, as we headed towards the garage, as we left mom behind, ever so briefly. I felt my dad place his hand on my shoulder, heard him speak quietly, reassuringly. As always he started with the rather prim and proper, “well son”, as always he remained relaxed yet serious. As I looked towards him, as I looked slightly upwards into his face, I could see him smile, could see his calm demeanour, felt strangely soothed by his manner. Slowly he continued to speak, with purpose he began to explain how he understood my nervousness, how he had felt the same at my age, began to explain how he wished he’d been in the position I now found myself in. Slowly he explained it was natural to have doubts, to be uncertain about what lay ahead, slowly he explained it was normal to feel as I do, that it’s not unusual to be anxious, that it was understandable, after all I was about to try something new. Slowly he asked me how I felt, beseeched me to be open and honest, to continue acting in such a mature way.

Yet in a way, it felt like my dad already knew how I felt, already knew I was nervous, anxious, scared, and much more beside. I wondered if he really wanted me to tell him that, I wondered how he’d react if I told him my head was still telling me it was wrong, wrong to be excited about binding my mom, wrong to be excited about getting to bind and gag a woman, a woman older than myself. I wondered how he’d react if I told him my heart was pounding in my chest, if I told him just how excited I felt, even if it was a nervous excitement. I wondered if I should really be open and honest, if I should tell him I wasn’t really sure if I was ready, if I should tell him I wasn’t sure if it was right for me to be doing such things with mom, if I should tell him I still wanted to find out how it felt.

So even as we walked into the garage, as I looked over at the cleared out corner, as I looked over the lighting, as I looked over the video cameras, as I looked over the stills camera, as I reached out and picked up the roll of red tape, as I twisted and turned it in my hands, as I fidgeted slightly, I paused for a moment. Paused long enough to ensure my brain and mouth were operating in conjunction, paused long enough to ensure by reply couldn’t be misunderstood, couldn’t be mistaken. Slowly I replied, slowly I admitted to my dad, to myself, that I wasn’t sure if I was ready, that I wasn’t sure how I really felt, that I didn’t know if I was even comfortable with the thought of binding and gagging my mom. Slowly I continued by saying that I still knew I wanted to find out, find out how it felt, how I felt about it, was curious to know if I could really tie my mom, if I could really tie anyone. Slowly I admitted, just as my mom walked in that it was time I grew up, it was time to discover myself, to discover if my feeling and emotions can handle all this involves.

With her usual warm smile, my mom spoke, drew my attention to where she stood, still in her sporty outfit, still clad in the tight spandex, the little white ankle socks and trainers, drew my attention to the way she’d moved over to the already prepared space within the garage. With her usual calming, sweet voice she told me she was pleased me being honest and open with my dad, with her, told me there was nothing to worry about, that I was doing this with her blessing, with her love, with her acceptance. That I was doing this with her guidance, with my dads guidance, told me I could stop anytime I wanted, told me we would talk about it as we go alone. Told me I was being a little too hasty with the tape, the tape I’d forgotten I held in my right hand, my trembling right hand.

She told me as she knelt in front of my dad, as she placed her hands on her head, as she adopted the role as the snatched jogger once more, as she pretended to be scared, be fearful, as she looked so vulnerable and timid that other shots must be taken first. That other images were needed for the site, images that couldn’t show the marks left by the tape, the tape I will soon be binding her with. At first I was confused, confused about the marks she was talking about, confused about whether or not I like the idea of my mom being marked by my bindings. At first I searched through my memory, tried to think if I’d even been able to see marks on my moms soft, fair skin, tried to remember back to Wednesday afternoon, to the aftermath when we sat around the table.

But even as I did, even as I thought long and hard about it, nothing came to mind, nothing told me I’d missed the signs of my mom and dads activities with tape, rope or anything else they might use. Just like nothing told me I’d missed the signs of all the things they used, never before till that Wednesday had I see the ball gag, never until that Wednesday had rope or tape been anywhere but there in the garage, had rope or tape been seen in the house. But even as I searched and searched my mind without success, my mom continued her posing, her acting up for the camera, the camera my dad so expertly used to capture my mom from all angles.

I guess you could say, I must have drifted off into a world of my own, must have let my mind wander off just a little, for the next thing I can remember, the next thing I can recall was when my mom spoke, when she asked me what I was thinking, asked if I was ready to bind her, asked if I was sure I was okay. Her words broke my train of thought, brought me back to the there and then, reminded me just why we were all in the garage, why I held the role of red tape in my hand. I must have nodded, I know I replied, said I was ready, was willing, or at least I thought I was, I know I asked what was first, where were we to start.

For some reason I expect it to be with my moms ankles, with her spandex covered legs, but I was wrong, I was confronted by my mom turning her back on me, by my mom crossing her wrists behind her. Was confronted by her words of advice, of encouragement. Oh so calmly she told me to kneel behind her, oh so calmly she told me to begin wrapping the tape around her wrists, told me to render them helpless, told me to breathe, to take a few deep breaths and start, told me she could sense my nervousness, my uncertainty. Mom told me not to worry, not to be afraid, told be it was all good, was all with her blessing, with my dads blessing, told me I was so grown up for my age, told me she was proud of me for the way I had accepted what happens, told me she was so happy I had agreed to explore, to discover, to release my desires, my love all those that are bound and gagged.

My hands trembled uncontrollably as I pulled on the red electricians tape, as I began to wrap it around and around my moms wrists, my breathing seemed to be laboured as I focused on what I was doing, gently, to gently as it turned out I secured my moms wrists, or at least attempted to bind my moms wrist. Oh so quickly, oh so swiftly my mom stopped me, told me to relax a second, oh so easily she slipped her wrist out of my bindings, oh so sweetly she looked over her shoulder at me and told me to pull it tight, to make it dig into the flesh around her wrist a little. Oh so sweetly she told me to be forceful, to use my strength, to make her bindings tight and effective, oh so sweetly she told me not to be afraid, not to worry about hurting her, as I wouldn’t, as if it was too tight, was risking her circulation, was more than needed, she’d tell me, she’d let me know.

Calmly, gently, supportively, mom encouraged me try again, with his hand now on my shoulder, my dad guided me further. With a little more effort, even though my mind told me to stop, told me I was being nasty towards my mom, I did as they told me. I made the first pass tight enough for the tape to dig into my moms soft flesh, I made the first pass 20 times tighter than before, I made the second pass, a little tighter again, with my moms encouragement, with my dads approval I made the third, forth and fifth pass just as tight. With my dads guidance I moved the sixth, seventh and eight pass a little further up my moms wrists, with my dads guidance I learnt that the red tape with being thin works better when spread a round just a little. With a flurry that surprised even me, I made the last two passes just a fraction tighter again, passing them at angle over what was already there.

With a smile, a smile that kind of freaked me out, I pronounced I was finished, that I was done, only to be told I was close, that I wasn’t done. For in a minute or two I’d be needed again, I’d have more work to do, I’d have to add to my moms helplessness. Told that before I could, before I could continue I needed to move out of the way, I needed let my dad take the next set of shots, let my dad get another 10 or 20 shots as my mom posed with bound wrists, as she appeared to test her bonds, as she appeared to struggle against them, as she appeared to left even more terrified.

All of which was fine, all of which I understood, for I’d been allowed to see some of my parents previous photo sets, for I’d been allowed to see some of my parents previous videos, but it did nothing for me, nothing to help ease the emotions of my battered mind, did nothing to put me a ease, to help me understand how I felt. For what seemed like an eternity, but was in fact only a few minutes my mom moved around, twisted and turned her bound wrists, wrists that thankfully remained securely bound. For what at the time felt like forever mom looked over her shoulder at her tightly bound wrists, at my handy work so to speak. For what seemed like hours my dad move around her as she struggled.

But a last he put the camera down once more, at least he looked over to where I stood, at last he asked me if I was ready, if I was happy, if I was willing to bind my mom further, if I would like to bind my moms legs. Without thinking, without a seconds thought, just a little to eagerly even for my own liking, I blurted out, that I was ready, willing and I hoped able, that I was happy to carry on. Yet in truth I wasn’t sure if I was or not, it was my nerves speaking, my heart talking, my head was somewhere else.

Thankfully, though, even as I spoke so eagerly, so confidently, my mom just giggled and smiled, my dad just smirked and said, “that’s my boy”. They made me feel so content, so comfortable, they did all they could to ease my mind, to make me feel at ease. Yet I guess I must have blushed, blushed at my sudden outburst, my sudden statement, for my mom smiled and asked why I’d gone such a strange shade of red, my dad teased me about how cheeky I was, asked I was still standing there, why I wasn’t already kneeling in front of my mom, why I wasn’t binding her further.

Yet, I have to admit, I don’t know myself why I said that, don’t understand it even today, for I wasn’t ready, wasn’t really sure if I’d ever be ready, for I wasn’t willing, and yet I was, and certainly didn’t know if I was able. But then, saying that, my mom hadn’t been able to free here wrists, despite her twists and turns, her tugs and pulls, so at least I’d got that part right. So despite all of that, despite feeling a little embarrassed by my words, words I hadn’t been able to control, I was soon kneeling in front of my mom, was soon, as instructed removing her shoes and socks, was soon taping her crossed ankles tightly.

As I began with my moms ankles, my moms crossed ankles, I couldn’t help but notice her bare feet, couldn’t help but wonder why I’d had to remove her shoes, her socks, I would a little later, just not then. But somehow, it did seem to make her look more vulnerable, more helpless, more powerless. So when my dad told me to pull the tape a little harder this time, when my mom told me to let it dig into her flesh a little more, when dad told me to let the tape stretch a little in the process, when mom told me to remember, not just then, but in the future a ladies legs, anybody’s legs are stronger than their arms it made sense.

Dad told me to at least double up on the amount of passes I made, mom butted in and added I should finish off with a few passes between her already taped ankles, to effectively clinch of her bindings, something I didn’t understand the meaning of. Once done, I looked at my handy work, looked at how the red tape, all twenty circles of the red tape, dug into the flesh around moms ankles, as I could finally see and understand what she’d meant by leaving marks, mom interrupted my thoughts, injected once more. Mom asked what I was waiting for, asked why I wasn’t adding to her bonds like I’d seen before, why I wasn’t wrapping more tape around her calves, adding more tape just below her knees, just above her knees, and finally around her thighs.

Puzzled at first, I looked up at my dad, looked to him for advice, looked up at him searching for a glimmer of reassurance that I should continue. But all I got was a smile, a nod, a smile and nod that indicted it was ok, that I should be listening to my mom, that I should doing just as she said. So with a little sigh, while bitting my lip a little, I followed her directions, I taped her mid calves, just where the shiny spandex of her leggings started. I taped just below and above her knees, I finished with an unexpected flourish at her mid thighs. I slump back on my bum and looked directly at mom, I waited to her her thoughts, I waited to hear from my dad, I waited for their comments, their questions, and sadly you’ll have to wait as well, will have to wait to find out what was said, what happened next, what was to follow that day and in the future.....
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Post by Caesar73 »

I like this story very much. Bandit describes the feelings of Peter very good. His inner conflict, bis confusion. How his Parents help him to hope with it.

Also very good: Peters first, tentative moves, taping bis mother wrists. Then his growing security.

Last but not least: The Ciffhanger :) What the hell are the socks for 😉 Any idea? 😁😁
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Post by gagged86 »

Another great update, my friend :)
As always depicting perfectly all the doubts and uncertainties of a young man discovering his passion for bondage :)
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Post by Bandit666 »

Thank you both very much for your comments and continued support when telling this tale :)

Ideas for the next few parts are rattling around in my head already so stay tuned :)
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Post by Bandit666 »

Thank you both very much for your comments and continued support when telling this tale :)

Ideas for the next few parts are rattling around in my head already so stay tuned :)
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Post by Caesar73 »

Bandit666 wrote: 4 years ago Ideas for the next few parts are rattling around in my head already so stay tuned :)
Good rattling! :)
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Post by damsel »

Pretty cool story, really like the different way of telling it, and it all sounds real. Peter's parents are great at explaining things that at first can sound weird. Sounds like he might be a future dom.... ;)
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Post by Xtc »

Stylistically, this is superb. It's almost poetic in its form.
The repetitions are very traditional. like a folk-tale.

Write on!
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Post by Bandit666 »

Thank both so very much, there’s still a lot more to come, all going to plan, and there might even be a sequel in the make but right now this is my focus. So please stay tuned and feel free to leave any comments as the next part is well underway and should be here soon

Thanks again
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Post by Bandit666 »

Part six

Well it was done, I’d done it, I’d bound my mom, I’d tied her wrists tightly behind her back, I’d taped her crossed ankles securely, I’d been the one to bind my moms legs so efficiently, so effectively. But please, please don’t ask me how I felt, for while I was elated, I was delighted, I was excited, I was also confused, I was also uncertain, I was also scared, scared of the elation, scared of the delight I felt, scared of the pride I felt. On the outside I was smiling, on the outside my hands had finally stopped shaking, finally stopped trembling, on the outside the concentration had been clear to see. Yet on the inside my stomach churned, my heart still pounded, my pulse still raced, my mind still seemed cloudy.

As I sat back on my legs, as a small sigh escaped my lips, a strange wave of satisfaction had swept over me, over me as I realised just what had happened, that I’d just bound my mom, bound her successfully, all be it with just some simple red electricians tape, it was a realisation that hit me like a steam train. I loved the fact that they’d let me, I loved the way I’d been able to make the bindings effective and I loved how my mom looked. But in a way that was the problem, for it was my mom, it was my mom I loved seeing bound, it felt so right, felt so wrong. My heart was telling me what a wonderful a thing had just occurred, was telling me this was something I’d dreamt about for months, even if those dreams had never involved my mom.

Yet my mind, my mind didn’t quite agree, but please don’t get me wrong, when I make that statement, please don’t take it the wrong way. For you see it did agreed with the fact I’d lived a dream, with the fact I’d done something special, something I should and did enjoy. It did agree, that I’d done something else, it did agree that I’d done something so many others never had, and most likely would never do, I’d bound a woman. But the problem was, the issue it had, was that the woman in question was my mom, was the most special woman in my life. It’s asked itself if that was right, if that was okay, it argued with itself, for it had been with her blessing, with her willingness, with her guidance. It had been, with my dads help, with my dads support, with my dads acceptance, with my dads guidance.

So there I was still confused, still not knowing truly how I felt, when my dad placed his hands on my shoulder, when he told me to take in what I’d done, when he asked my mom what she thought. As she had done from the start, or at least when not playing the damsel for the camera, my mom was smiling, seemed to be beaming with pride. Slowly, with pride in her voice she told him, no told me, how proud she was, how happy she was to have such a strong willed, mature son, a son that put his reservations aside, a son that was open enough to understand just what she did with his dad. She told me, that she knew it was difficult, she told me that was plain to see, she told me that. As if she had a window into my soul, she told me I found it hard because it was her, because I was binding my mom, and yet I’d carried on, I’d followed her instructions, my dads instruction, told me I’d done a great job, and she wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry.

She was, as mom always is, right of course, and I plucked up the courage to say so, I spoke quietly, timidly, as I agreed with what she said, as I agreed I found it hard with it being her. I plucked up the courage, even as I blushed, even as I felt my face burn red with embarrassment, to admit I’d enjoyed binding her, that my heart had been pounding, and still was, to admit my pulse had been racing and still was. With a pat on the shoulder, with a simple, “it’s ok son carry on”, I admitted how wonderful it had been to finally discover my interest in roping up a woman, to discover it was much more enjoyable to see when done by myself and not by someone on TV, not on even by my dad. I heard my dad tell me it was called bondage, I heard him tell me it was ok to feel, like that.

But I questioned that, asked if deep down, it really was ok for me to be binding my mom, if it really was a natural thing for a son to do to his mom. My mom interjected, my mom stopped me as I asked the question, came back with a question or two of her own, she asked if I’d done so with her blessing, to which I nodded yes, she asked if I like how she looked all taped up, to which I nodded, a little less eagerly than before yes. She paused and looked at me, asked again if I liked how she looked, to which I rashly and over eagerly blurred out I did, I blurted out how she always looks lovely to me, I blurted out how she looked awesome all taped up like that, I blurted out how most of friends have a crush on her and would die of over excitement if they could see her like that. She giggled and said maybe I should invite them over, she went serious, and asked what I would tell them about today, I went serious and told her, told my dad, I would never tell anyone about what we’ve done, about what they do. I told my mom, I told my dad it’s private and it’s between us, no-one else.

Reassured by my words, by my reply, mom asked me to continue, my mom smiled, nodded, and said she understood when I admitted it would take me a while to get comfortable binding her, to get comfortable gagging her. I asked, rather cautiously, if maybe we could, sometimes after school, when my dads at work, when there’s no cameras, when there’s no pressure to make it look a certain way, practice a little, if we could maybe try and make it a little less stressful. With one of his usual shoulder grips, shoulder grips he uses to reassure me, dad let my mom reply first, let my mom say that it sounded like a very good idea, let my mom say it was okay with her. With one of his usual shoulder grips, he told me there was my reply, that if my mom was happy he was happy.

Feeling bolder than I had since it all started I asked if I’d ever get to tie any of the others, if I’d get to bind and maybe gag my auntie Elizabeth, if I’d get to the same to Jackie, even get to tie my history teacher, get to tie Chrissy Marie. With a smile my mom said, I’d have to wait and see, wait and see if they’re happy for me to tie them, for they had minds and feelings of their own, told me, even if they agreed, there’d still be rules and guidelines to follow. I told her, told my dad I understood, I asked if they believed Jackie’s daughter, if Emma really liked me, if they thought she’d let me tie her. They told me, it would be up to me to find out, it would be up to me at to ask her out on a date, would have to see how things go. Mom told me I couldn’t rush wanting to bind and gag her, my mom told me not get carried away, my mom, and my dad, told me there needs to be level of trust and respect before that could happen. My dad told me I’d have to learn to read the signs, my dad told me to speak to Emma when or if the time felt right, to speak with him, with my mom, to take things slowly, take them one step at a time.

It was a talk, that while so quick and easy to read, so briefly described here, here in my memoirs, such as they are, that in reality took a good 40, or 50 minutes. 40 or 50 minutes during which my mom still sat on the floor, still sat in her tight figure hugging spandex leggings and top, still sat securely taped up, taped up by me. It was a talk that had been needed, that I was pleased to have had, even if at times it was a little nerve wrenching, even if at times it was a little bit uncomfortable. It was talk that, at times was comforting, that, at times was reassuring, that, at times was soothing. It was a talk that, finally left me understanding my emotions, my feeling, it was a talk that helped me understanding what it was my mom and dad enjoyed, it was a talk that left me in no doubt about one thing, left me in no doubt about how I felt when tying someone, I loved it. But of course there was still the issue of it being my mom, that, well that was an issue that would take time to address, would take time for me to feel happy about, would take time for me to get comfortable with.

Yet even as we talked, even as time ticked past, even as I tried to adapt to the fact I’d just bound my mom, just taped her up for the first time. Even as I tried to adapt to the fact she was willing for me to do it more often, do it again, I became aware of the need for the scene to continue, became aware of the fact, even without mom showing it, it must be getting a little uncomfortable for her, it must be hurting her a little. So I broke away from our chat, asked if we could maybe finish it after all the images had been shot, after all the videoing had been completed. So I suggested, rather boldly I thought, that we finish my little part in the mornings activities, that we, no that I got to gag my mom before leaving the garage.

With a smirk, a lighthearted laugh, a role of her eyes, my mom passed a comment a long the lines of like father, like son, before turning serious once more, before stressing how important it was that a gag involving any kind of stuffing was done properly. Before stressing it had to be done properly, before stressing I had to listen and follow her instructions, and my dads too, very carefully. Before stressing I had to be so very careful and should never leave a woman gagged in such a way alone for more than a few minutes. Before stressing, even if it was true that if and when I tie a woman, a girl, I’m responsible for her health and her safety, then once they’re gagged it’s even more important I take it seriously.

I told mom I understood, I repeated and confirmed, that I was the one responsible for a girls, a woman’s safety when binding, when gagging. I reached over and picked up her little white ankle socks, I folded them together like instructed, I began to ball them up as instructed, folding the open tops out of the way. Slowly I balled them, carefully I listened, gently I offered them up to my moms mouth, willingly she accepted them, with a little difficulty I worked them inside. With a look at my dad, I searched for his reassurance, with a nod he gave it, when he passed over the first strip of silver duct tape he gave it.

By the time I was done, by the time it was over, my mom had a total of four strips of that silver duct tape over her mouth, had four strips of that silver duct tape covering her lower face, her beautiful face. By the time I was done at least I felt a little better, if not completely at ease. Once more I let a little sigh escape my lips, once more I sat back on my legs, once more I looked over at my dad, once more I admired how amazing my mom looked. In time, after a couple of minutes, I asked if it was time for me to leave, asked if I could have access to the website, promised I’d skip anything that went beyond just the lighter side.

After a minutes thought, my dad said it was, after a minutes thought, my dad said I could, after a minutes thought, my dad said mom would come see me in a little while. After a minutes thought he said we’d see what happens next, just like I’m going to say the same to you right now, as there’s plenty more to tell you, plenty more for you to read and understand. So hopefully I’ll see you back here soon, hopefully you’ll want to know more about my journey, my discoveries....
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Post by Emma »

Another good entry in your series!

What I liked the best was the discussion on paying attention to the safety of a woman in bondage. That's overlooked a lot in tie-up stories.

Good job!
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Post by Bandit666 »

Thank you Emma it’s great to know my aims with this part and the story in general are going in the direction I intended.

I hope it continues as it goes on
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Post by gagged86 »

As always a great job, my friend :)
And I agree with Emma, it's very important the talk about safety in this kind of games, a very good addition to the already good thematics explored by the story :)
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Post by Bandit666 »

Thank you my friend I’m glad you think so, as part seven is underway as we speak, or at least it’s been started :)
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Post by Amm1973es »

What I like about your story is the ease with which Pete can recognize his concerns in front of his parents, almost all of us as soon as we discovered them, we had to keep them for ourselves and without anyone being able to advise us about them.
In your case you can open up, without fear of being taken as a weirdo or a sick person.
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Post by Bandit666 »

Thank you that was my intention, that and to avoid it being creepy while dealing with a very difficult situation :)
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Post by Bandit666 »

Hello one and all, my apologies that the next parts not up and here for your enjoyment sadly real life has been so incredibly busy. But bare with me as I hope to have it here soon

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Post by Bandit666 »

Part seven,

So it was, that my exploration of, my journey into, the realms of bondage had begun, begun in the garage of all places. So it was, that I’d been given the chance to travel from simply enjoying the sight of a woman bound and gagged on the TV and in the movies, to begin responsible for binding and gagging a woman for myself. It was a chance, I found myself grateful to have been given, as I sat on my bed having left my mom and dad alone to finish what we’d started. It was a chance, that proved to me, how much I enjoyed the idea, enjoyed being able to do so, and yet, the one major hang up, the one major issue remained, it was my mom, the most special woman in my life I’d taped up, that I’d gagged.

Even as I sat there, even as, with my parents blessing, I searched through their website, as I looked at so many of the images they’d taken, as I looked at so many of the videos they’d shot the fact it was mom niggled at me, left my stomach churning just a little. For I have to admit, my mom did look so good, my mom did make such a wonderful, beautiful looking damsel in distress. For I have to admit, I could see why so many people pay for the chance to see her in all the different positions, all the different outfits, all the different forms of bindings. Yet in a way it was a thought, that, felt just a little creepy, a little wrong, but then, it was also a thought, that, made me proud, proud to know these people liked my mom, proud to know these people wanted to see her looking so good.

It was of course, a thought, so confusing, that made me wonder, wonder what would happen now, wonder if things would change between my mom and me, wonder if things would change between my dad and me. I wondered, as I sat there on the bed, if our lives would change now I knew about the website, if our lives would change now I’d bound and gagged my mom, even if it was with both their blessings. It was of course, a thought that ran through my mind, even as my mom, knocked quietly on my bedroom door, as she asked if she could come in. It was a thought I asked her about as she sat on the edge of my bed, as she looked at me with a comforting, reassuring smile.

With the same soothing smile, my mom spoke quietly, my mom told me there was no reason to think things would change. She told me she was still my mom, told me, my dad, was still my dad, told me, the house rules, were still the house rules, my chores, were still my chores. She told me, I was still expected to do well at school, that I was still expected to get good grades. She told me, that, if anything, I should look at what had just happened, what I’d just done, as just another thing for us all to share. She told me to think of it, as another activity, just like soccer, with my dad, just like cooking with herself, that we can share. She told me, she knew I found it difficult to be the one binding and gagging her, she asked me what I thought now I’d been able to view the website on my own.

Blushing brightly, I remained true to myself, I kept my vow to be honest, I told her, I thought she looked stunning, I told her she was the best looking mom in the whole wide world, I made her blush just a little. Blushing brightly, I told her my friends would give up a years pocket money to see her as I had, I told her, they would never know about the website, I told her, that I promised never to speak of such a thing around them. She thanked my for the compliments, thanked me for being so mature, thanked me for understanding the importance of my discretion. I smiled, felt proud of myself, felt, for the first time, realised for the first time, just how lucky I was, for I had the best mom in the world, for I had the best dad in the world. I realised for the first time, it was me, that was blessed, blessed at having such wonderful, caring, sharing and supportive parents. I finally felt a little better at the thought of being the one that bound and gagged my mom, I still had my reservations, I still had a long journey to make before it felt right, felt acceptable, but for the first time I confirmed within myself I could do it, that I wanted to do.

We must have talked for over an hour, must have searched each other’s thought on what had happened for so long, must have remained silent now and again. All before dad knocked on my bedroom door, before he quietly peaked inside, before he asked if everything was okay, all before we nodded, before we told him we were fine, told him everything was okay. Which seemed to make him relax, which seemed to put his mind at rest, for he announced that sandwiches were ready in the kitchen, for he asked us to join him there.

For the first time I realised how hungry I was, how thirsty I was, along side my mom, I headed downstairs, I headed for the kitchen to eat, I headed to the kitchen to find nothing had changed. For once we’d eaten, I still had to wash the dishes, I still had to take out the rubbish, still had to sit down and do my homework, still got to sit down with my dad to watch the usual Saturday afternoon soccer match on the TV, still got to choose what we’d have for our Saturday evening family movie. Still wondered what would happen next, still wondered just how I felt about it all, still wondered if life would change.

However, thankfully, due mainly to my parents wish to ensure I learnt from the start that while bondage can be fun, can be enjoyable, can prove to be part of life, things didn’t change at all. My life, our life didn’t really change at all over the following weeks, as from Monday to Friday I was still a school boy, from Monday to Friday my dad was still an engineer, from Monday to Friday mom was still a housewife. As from Monday to Friday I still returned home to do my chores, to do my homework, as from Monday to Friday my dad still returned home to do his jobs around the house, as from Monday to Friday my mom still washed our clothes, still prepared our dinners, still looked after not only the house but also me and my dad.

And that’s how it all remained, remained for the next 6 weeks, remained till the first weekend of my summer break. On a Wednesday afternoon my mom and dad would continue with the shoots that I wasn’t able to be involved in, couldn’t see for one reason or another. On a Saturday I would join in, join in and bind my mom with her blessing, with my dads blessing. I could spend an age telling you about how it progressed, how I went from using the electricians tape to using duct tape, how I went from using duct tape to using zip ties, how I went from using zip ties to using handcuffs and shackles, how I went from using handcuffs and shackles to finally using cord, using rope. I could spend an age telling you about all the different outfits my mom wore, how she went from being the helpless runner to the captured housewife in her tight jeans and t-shirt, how she went from the captured housewife to the abducted secretary, how she went from the abducted secretary bound and gagged in the trunk of my dads car, to the 1970’s disco diva.

I could tell all about those warm fun filled Saturdays, and maybe I will some time, especially if you’d like me too, but for now, or rather the next time I sit down and write, write from my memoirs I’ll tell you about the first Saturday of my summer break, will tell you about the first time I got to bind and gag someone other than my mom, got to bind and gag someone along side my mom, got to bind and gag my auntie Elizabeth as well as my mom.

As always I hope you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read this time, will let me know your thoughts, as always I hope to get part 8 ready soon, certainly much sooner than this part.
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Emma
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Post by Emma »

The quality of this story never lets up!

Don (hubby) says he really likes how you ended it, with a hint that you'll at some point write about the others you mentioned.

For me, the style itself is appealing. It all sounds quite reasonable, and quite logical.

Very good work!
Don's Stories, Posted by Emma, Are Here!:https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=46&t=5915
gagged86
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Location: Liguria, Italy

Post by gagged86 »

Once again a very good and enjoyable update :)
I'd be glad to read more, but I also think this could be a good ending as well :)
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