Stories of Tie Up Games

Truth be known, I'd never seen my dad like this.
I'd never seen him so angry and so determined!

He was usually a really calm, really easygoing guy.
Assertive in his own way, but rarely in the habit of raising his voice at all.

There was one thing my dad didn't take kindly to though.
Thievery.


At least one of the poor sods that broke into our country cabin was gonna find that out at his own expense.


A major storm front was brewing in the area, and all of the closest town residents were being urged to evacuate.

Since our cottage was high up in elevation, flash flood warnings didn't do much to deter my dad and I from braving the weather. But with the nearest town being over an hour away and most of the shops being closed down for the next few days, my dad and I decided to stock up on supplies and fill the truck's gas tank in case we had to evacuate at the last minute.


Not to spoil the ending here, but the storm didn't hit as close to our area as it was supposed to.
Save for a few trees breaking down, our land and cottage weathered the storm with relative ease.

That wasn't the highlight of the week though. Rather, it was the pair of rowdy-looking thieves we found snooping around our cottage that became the summer vacation's most memorable event.



The burglars must've been going around the evacuated area, looting homes and whatnot.
What better opportunity was there to break in and steal a bunch of stuff?

The nearest police station was over an hour away, and the authorities no doubt had their hands full preparing for the incoming storm and coordinating the thousands of citizens it was inconveniencing.

Unfortunately for the would-be bandits, we weren't going anywhere.




Sure enough, they arrived at our cottage, parked their crummy old car out of sight, and broke into our place without anyone knowing it.

My dad and I were shocked when we opened the front door and came face to face with the two unarmed men, both of them in the process of dumping our valuables into big, black duffle bags.

I froze, frightened and not know what to do.
The four of us looked at each other, and for a moment there, we were all in a state of perpetual shock.

I was immensely surprised when the two masked looters dropped their bags and dashed out of the room, darting towards the back room in the hopes of reaching the door they'd broken in through.



My dad didn't say anything.
He just ran after them and disappeared from view.

I heard stuff falling, heard glass breaking and heard some yelling and screaming.
Finally, the sound of screeching tires hit my ears and I was almost certain the masked men had succeeded in fleeing the scene of the crime.

I rushed into the room leading to the back door, panicked at the thought of finding my dad hurt or mortally wounded.


Imagine my surprise as I stumbled into the room and found him on his phone, dialling up 9-1-1 as he sat on one of the would-be burglars and kept the guy's arm painfully twisted behind his back.

"Dammit!" he cursed, grabbing his phone and dialling the emergency number a second time.


His call wasn't getting through.
The storm was either cutting off our signal, or the local police station had been evacuated as well.

"Fucking great..." my dad mumbled, before quickly turning his gaze towards me and ordering me to take one of the chairs from the kitchen and place in the middle of the living room.

I did what I was told and turned around to see my dad walking out of the backroom, guiding the surprisingly scrawny offender out in front of him.


To his credit, the masked guy fought to escape, but my dad just tightened his grip and threatened to break his arm if he didn't stop struggling.

The prisoner was guided into my father's bedroom and was forced to lie down on his stomach, with both of his hands behind his back.




I once again followed my dad's instructions and brought him the camping gear and the big bag of rope he kept in his closet.


I watched as he looped the thick, densely-braided cotton rope around the offender's wrists.
Around and around and around. Five, six, seven times.

My dad's muscles bulged as he knotted the rope up real tight before looping it in between the burglar's bound wrists half a dozen times. More knots followed until my father was finally satisfied with the result.



The captive-burglar was roughly pulled up to his feet and his mask was finally removed, revealing nothing more than a frightened young man with green eyes and a freckled face.

The kid couldn't have been more than two or three years older than me.
He must've been around seventeen, maybe eighteen at the most.

He looked absolutely terrified and panicked at the fact that he'd been caught.




My dad kept up his severe tone but eased his harsh glare a little when he realised he was dealing with a troublesome brat instead of a grown man.

"On the chair. Now!" he barked, marching the restrained kid up the center of the living room and forcing him to sit down.

I watched from a distance as my dad questioned the frightened teen and got him to confess every single bit of information about what he'd been doing and who the other culprit was.

If the brat thought my dad was gonna show him any leniency though, he was gravely mistaken.

I watched as my normally easygoing father bundled the boy up with a vengeance, and watched as he restrained the kid's elbows behind his back before wrapping half a mile of rope around the lad's scrawny form and the sturdy wooden chair.


At one point, the frightened teen looked at me and gulped in fear at the fact that he was being restrained and held here against his will,

My dad was holding him fully accountable for his actions, as well as those of his good-for-nothing accomplice.
No amount of whimpering and pleading was gonna change his mind.

This kid was gonna face the law, and my dad was determined to physically restrain him until the local authorities could intervene.




I was instructed to call the cops again, but after another series of failed attempts, it became obvious that we wouldn't be getting any help tonight...what with the storm and all.

The kid's ankles were bound up, as were his lower legs and thighs.
More rope was unleashed as my dad proceeded to secure the prisoner's bound limbs down to the wooden structure of the chair.

The freckle-faced boy whimpered and pleaded anew, but that didn't stop my determined father from taking out a super long coil of rope and winding it extra tight around the back of the chair and the lad's already-trussed up torso.







My dad's face betrayed no sympathy as he pulled the rope much tighter than necessary and knotted it down at multiple places.

He didn't answer the kid's pleas for mercy and didn't bother reassuring him either.

Satisfied with his work, my father simply walked into his bedroom, rummaged through his stuff and came back out with a large rag and a big, black bandana slung over his shoulder.


The kid continued to make his case, professing his seemingly sincere intent to make amends for his crime and begging for freedom.

But all of his grovelling fell of deaf ears.
His stern captor would have none of it.


I watched as my father grabbed the big old rag with both hands and watched as he crumpled it up into a large ball before presenting it in front of the whimpering teen's face.

"Open!" was the only thing my dad said, as he grabbed the bound boy's hair and shoved the giant, wad of cloth inside his yapper.

The trussed up teen struggled to break free of his restraints, but my dad's excessive ropework easily kept him in place. The poor lad tried to yell and scream for help, but my dad just told him to be quiet and save it for the cops.


More and more cloth was stuffed into our bound prisoner's protesting mouth, and by the time my dad was done, the young man's cheeks were full to bursting and his lips were straining to accommodate the massive stuffing that was being imposed on his mouth.

"Mmppgghh! Uuugghmmpphf!"



Ignoring the fact that his helpless prisoner was having serious trouble coping with the size the fat wadding, my father twirled his black bandana around and placed it in between the kid's full-to-bursting lips before pulling it behind his head and knotting it up extra fuckin' tight.

"There. Now you're gonna be fuckin' quiet." I heard him mumble, as he grabbed the captive boy's chair and moved him to that he was facing the wall, on the far side of the living room.

The scrawny teen boy cried and sobbed, but every attempt he made to plead with us was being muffled out by the enormous stuffing that was protruding above and below the incredibly tight cleave gag.




As the storm beat down on our area, my dad and I tried to regain some semblance of normality by watching a movie on TV and by playing cards and videos games together.

The forty-three-year old man was adamant about wanting to keep an eye on the young burglar he'd arrested.
So he ended up sleeping on the living room couch that night.



In the morning we finally managed to get through to the police station, and we were instructed to hold out until a patrol car could be sent to pick up the young delinquent we were holding.

By the time the cops arrived, the poor kid had spent almost twenty-four hours bound up and gagged on the chair.

We followed the cops and their new detainee over to the police station, filed a report with one of the officers and were even congratulated for our cooperation and our success in apprehending Jonah, which we were told was a repeat-offender that was well known at the station.



And so, after all that tedious debriefing was done, my dad and I spent the next few days fishing, hiking, swimming and making campfires.

I really enjoyed the time I spent with him and remained very much in awe of how determined and stern he was with that up-to-no-good kid.



All in all, a very fun and eventful summer for the both of us.


THE END

I'm enjoying these one-offs. A slightly different approach this time.

Nice one! Very procedural and "non-kinky" for you, and yet still enticing and ibterest-stirring.

Excellent little one-off. and a well-done story to go with the picture. That's a LOT of rope.
I must admit I was waiting for the sock gag which never arrived.

Well done - I enjoy short stories too

MaxRoper wrote: ↑4 years ago Excellent little one-off. and a well-done story to go with the picture. That's a LOT of rope.
I must admit I was waiting for the sock gag which never arrived.

Haha, couldn‘t agree more.
I was waiting for the sock gag as well, but to my surprise, it was just a simple rag this time

Mhmm...still amazing hot.
Poor little thief. Too bad when you try to steal at a Alpha man‘s place

MaxRoper wrote: ↑4 years ago I must admit I was waiting for the sock gag which never arrived.

Haha! Yeah! I was surprised too! bondagefreak didn't use a sock as a gag?! Cool story! I'm really liking this one-offs! And really feel sorry for that wannabe bruglar!

Nice to see I caught you guys off guard and surprised you by not including a sockgag this time.
As far as this storyline goes, a cloth stuff gag or a simple around-the-head duct tape gag seemed more realistic and plausible than the dad using his own socks to keep the kid quiet.
I think if the dad had used such foul material to stuff the little burglar's mouth, the kid might've pressed charges and landed Mr. Zealous-law-enforcer into some legal trouble of his own.


[mention]cj2125[/mention] [mention]MaxRoper[/mention] [mention]sniffingyoursocks[/mention]
On a funny note, your combined comments almost make me believe some of you were disappointent at the lack of sockgags this time around. Seems like my bad habits are creating some sort of dependency among the troops

MaxRoper wrote: ↑4 years ago Excellent little one-off. and a well-done story to go with the picture. That's a LOT of rope.
I must admit I was waiting for the sock gag which never arrived.

I was also expecting this, a true plot twist hahaha, but I agree that it made the story more coherent

Very cool little story, nice work as always

Thanks for the support guys!

I'm sure our little friend Jonah wishes he had chosen another profession by now.
Breaking and entering can be quite costly when you wind up stumbling across an over-zealous justice fighter.

Serves the boy right!
Hopefully he'll learn something during his community service hours.

Those who enjoyed this tale will be happy to know I'm currently working on a follow-up story.
The two main characters here (the narrator and his dad) are making a comeback.

This upcoming sequel will be taking place exactly four years after the events in this story and will rely on the reader's recollection of this tale for the plot to make any sense. If you intend to read the follow-up when I publish it, I'd recommend re-reading "Citizen's Arrest: A Dad's Duty" before doing so.

Stay tuned for more updates.

[mention]DomTiesMen[/mention] [mention]Gagman[/mention]

THOUGHT YOU GUYS MIGHT LIKE THIS SHORT STORY AND IT'S SEQUEL

bondagefreak wrote: ↑3 years ago @DomTiesMen @Gagman

THOUGHT YOU GUYS MIGHT LIKE THIS SHORT STORY AND IT'S SEQUEL

I do like it! Thanks for the tip.

Fantastic piece. Love the detail. That poor boy. Though I’d love to be in his position

Very good story. Dad sounds very no-nonsense .

Maybe someday, you could do another sequel about the narrator and his dad catching the second burglar?

[mention]Smythdean[/mention] [mention]Headmistress[/mention]
Thanks for the comments, you two!
Glad you both enjoyed it.

Headmistress wrote: ↑3 years ago Maybe someday, you could do another sequel about the narrator and his dad catching the second burglar?

Unfortunately, this was one of my least successful tales.
So I'm afraid burglar number 2 will remain on the loose for quite some time still.
Besides, I sorta doubt he'd wanna revisit that same home after what happened to his friend

A classic!!

This might be a bit of me reading between the lines ( I'm actually reading outside the entire paper maybe), but does this mean that if I go down robbing houses I'm gonna get brutally tied up and mercilessly silenced too?
Joking, of course...unless

Not speaking about hypothetical burglaries, this one is a [mention]bondagefreak[/mention] classic! His ability to make me feel such lust for a story that does not really feature bondage as kinks ( I don't think that for our good mc's father restraining the, legally speaking, criminal, was something lust-fueled, as much as it was a safety measure) will never fail to amaze me, while also make me never look the same at a newspaper, should it ever feature such a " Burgler restrained by hero dad after breaking into house" headline.

Forever praising our gracious author's work, including the parts that were posted here before I was signed in!

@Sockgaggedman
Aw, thanks buddy-boi. I'm glad you liked this piece as much as you did even though it didn't feature the classic sockgag.
Thanks for dropping a comment. Very much appreciate it.

Wow, almost twenty four hours tightly bound, that is quite a bit
Though he's probably learned quite a lesson, he probably won't be bugging anytime soon
Anyways great story

VoidEmperor224 wrote: ↑8 months ago Wow, almost twenty four hours tightly bound, that is quite a bit
Though he's probably learned quite a lesson, he probably won't be bugging anytime soon
Anyways great story

Hopefully he has learnt his lesson. Or maybe not. Maybe this is just added incentive for him to try and rob that same house again
Thanks for the comment, buddy. Appreciate it.

bondagefreak wrote: ↑4 years ago

CITIZEN'S ARREST: A DAD'S DUTY

Truth be known, I'd never seen my dad like this.
I'd never seen him so angry and so determined!

He was usually a really calm, really easygoing guy.
Assertive in his own way, but rarely in the habit of raising his voice at all.

There was one thing my dad didn't take kindly to though.
Thievery.


At least one of the poor sods that broke into our country cabin was gonna find that out at his own expense.


A major storm front was brewing in the area, and all of the closest town residents were being urged to evacuate.

Since our cottage was high up in elevation, flash flood warnings didn't do much to deter my dad and I from braving the weather. But with the nearest town being over an hour away and most of the shops being closed down for the next few days, my dad and I decided to stock up on supplies and fill the truck's gas tank in case we had to evacuate at the last minute.


Not to spoil the ending here, but the storm didn't hit as close to our area as it was supposed to.
Save for a few trees breaking down, our land and cottage weathered the storm with relative ease.

That wasn't the highlight of the week though. Rather, it was the pair of rowdy-looking thieves we found snooping around our cottage that became the summer vacation's most memorable event.



The burglars must've been going around the evacuated area, looting homes and whatnot.
What better opportunity was there to break in and steal a bunch of stuff?

The nearest police station was over an hour away, and the authorities no doubt had their hands full preparing for the incoming storm and coordinating the thousands of citizens it was inconveniencing.

Unfortunately for the would-be bandits, we weren't going anywhere.




Sure enough, they arrived at our cottage, parked their crummy old car out of sight, and broke into our place without anyone knowing it.

My dad and I were shocked when we opened the front door and came face to face with the two unarmed men, both of them in the process of dumping our valuables into big, black duffle bags.

I froze, frightened and not know what to do.
The four of us looked at each other, and for a moment there, we were all in a state of perpetual shock.

I was immensely surprised when the two masked looters dropped their bags and dashed out of the room, darting towards the back room in the hopes of reaching the door they'd broken in through.



My dad didn't say anything.
He just ran after them and disappeared from view.

I heard stuff falling, heard glass breaking and heard some yelling and screaming.
Finally, the sound of screeching tires hit my ears and I was almost certain the masked men had succeeded in fleeing the scene of the crime.

I rushed into the room leading to the back door, panicked at the thought of finding my dad hurt or mortally wounded.


Imagine my surprise as I stumbled into the room and found him on his phone, dialling up 9-1-1 as he sat on one of the would-be burglars and kept the guy's arm painfully twisted behind his back.

"Dammit!" he cursed, grabbing his phone and dialling the emergency number a second time.


His call wasn't getting through.
The storm was either cutting off our signal, or the local police station had been evacuated as well.

"Fucking great..." my dad mumbled, before quickly turning his gaze towards me and ordering me to take one of the chairs from the kitchen and place in the middle of the living room.

I did what I was told and turned around to see my dad walking out of the backroom, guiding the surprisingly scrawny offender out in front of him.


To his credit, the masked guy fought to escape, but my dad just tightened his grip and threatened to break his arm if he didn't stop struggling.

The prisoner was guided into my father's bedroom and was forced to lie down on his stomach, with both of his hands behind his back.




I once again followed my dad's instructions and brought him the camping gear and the big bag of rope he kept in his closet.


I watched as he looped the thick, densely-braided cotton rope around the offender's wrists.
Around and around and around. Five, six, seven times.

My dad's muscles bulged as he knotted the rope up real tight before looping it in between the burglar's bound wrists half a dozen times. More knots followed until my father was finally satisfied with the result.



The captive-burglar was roughly pulled up to his feet and his mask was finally removed, revealing nothing more than a frightened young man with green eyes and a freckled face.

The kid couldn't have been more than two or three years older than me.
He must've been around seventeen, maybe eighteen at the most.

He looked absolutely terrified and panicked at the fact that he'd been caught.




My dad kept up his severe tone but eased his harsh glare a little when he realised he was dealing with a troublesome brat instead of a grown man.

"On the chair. Now!" he barked, marching the restrained kid up the center of the living room and forcing him to sit down.

I watched from a distance as my dad questioned the frightened teen and got him to confess every single bit of information about what he'd been doing and who the other culprit was.

If the brat thought my dad was gonna show him any leniency though, he was gravely mistaken.

I watched as my normally easygoing father bundled the boy up with a vengeance, and watched as he restrained the kid's elbows behind his back before wrapping half a mile of rope around the lad's scrawny form and the sturdy wooden chair.


At one point, the frightened teen looked at me and gulped in fear at the fact that he was being restrained and held here against his will,

My dad was holding him fully accountable for his actions, as well as those of his good-for-nothing accomplice.
No amount of whimpering and pleading was gonna change his mind.

This kid was gonna face the law, and my dad was determined to physically restrain him until the local authorities could intervene.




I was instructed to call the cops again, but after another series of failed attempts, it became obvious that we wouldn't be getting any help tonight...what with the storm and all.

The kid's ankles were bound up, as were his lower legs and thighs.
More rope was unleashed as my dad proceeded to secure the prisoner's bound limbs down to the wooden structure of the chair.

The freckle-faced boy whimpered and pleaded anew, but that didn't stop my determined father from taking out a super long coil of rope and winding it extra tight around the back of the chair and the lad's already-trussed up torso.







My dad's face betrayed no sympathy as he pulled the rope much tighter than necessary and knotted it down at multiple places.

He didn't answer the kid's pleas for mercy and didn't bother reassuring him either.

Satisfied with his work, my father simply walked into his bedroom, rummaged through his stuff and came back out with a large rag and a big, black bandana slung over his shoulder.


The kid continued to make his case, professing his seemingly sincere intent to make amends for his crime and begging for freedom.

But all of his grovelling fell of deaf ears.
His stern captor would have none of it.


I watched as my father grabbed the big old rag with both hands and watched as he crumpled it up into a large ball before presenting it in front of the whimpering teen's face.

"Open!" was the only thing my dad said, as he grabbed the bound boy's hair and shoved the giant, wad of cloth inside his yapper.

The trussed up teen struggled to break free of his restraints, but my dad's excessive ropework easily kept him in place. The poor lad tried to yell and scream for help, but my dad just told him to be quiet and save it for the cops.


More and more cloth was stuffed into our bound prisoner's protesting mouth, and by the time my dad was done, the young man's cheeks were full to bursting and his lips were straining to accommodate the massive stuffing that was being imposed on his mouth.

"Mmppgghh! Uuugghmmpphf!"



Ignoring the fact that his helpless prisoner was having serious trouble coping with the size the fat wadding, my father twirled his black bandana around and placed it in between the kid's full-to-bursting lips before pulling it behind his head and knotting it up extra fuckin' tight.

"There. Now you're gonna be fuckin' quiet." I heard him mumble, as he grabbed the captive boy's chair and moved him to that he was facing the wall, on the far side of the living room.

The scrawny teen boy cried and sobbed, but every attempt he made to plead with us was being muffled out by the enormous stuffing that was protruding above and below the incredibly tight cleave gag.




As the storm beat down on our area, my dad and I tried to regain some semblance of normality by watching a movie on TV and by playing cards and videos games together.

The forty-three-year old man was adamant about wanting to keep an eye on the young burglar he'd arrested.
So he ended up sleeping on the living room couch that night.



In the morning we finally managed to get through to the police station, and we were instructed to hold out until a patrol car could be sent to pick up the young delinquent we were holding.

By the time the cops arrived, the poor kid had spent almost twenty-four hours bound up and gagged on the chair.

We followed the cops and their new detainee over to the police station, filed a report with one of the officers and were even congratulated for our cooperation and our success in apprehending Jonah, which we were told was a repeat-offender that was well known at the station.



And so, after all that tedious debriefing was done, my dad and I spent the next few days fishing, hiking, swimming and making campfires.

I really enjoyed the time I spent with him and remained very much in awe of how determined and stern he was with that up-to-no-good kid.



All in all, a very fun and eventful summer for the both of us.


THE END

A CONTINUATION OF THIS TALE HAS BEEN PUBLISHED!
THIS ONE'S CALLED "MORE THAN I BARGAINED FOR"

FOLLOW THE LINK: https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=5982

I swear these dads in the stories are SO fucking hot, damn placed against the wall… cruel… I love love love these stories

@ChairBoy
Glad you enjoyed this one, buddy. The burglar-lad definitely got what he had coming for him. Hopefully, he learns his lesson and gives that area a very wide berth in the future, that is...unless he wants to have another go at being forcefully trussed up