Birthday hostage (COMPLETE!) M/F
Posted: Fri May 25, 2018 9:25 am
It was the week of my Birthday (it’s impolite to ask a girl her age) and as an early present to myself I decided to skip the last two lessons of the day in favour of an afternoon spent under a duvet watching Netflix with an industrial sized tub of ice cream (I know, how rebellious of me? I'm like James Dean in a pleated skirt)
Creeping home with all the stealth of a panther in soft shoes I opened the door to the family home only to discover the front room covered in balloons, the dinner table buckling under the weight of numerous plates of finger food and a large colourful banner pinned to the wall with “Happy Birthday Samantha” written in bold, friendly letters.
Did someone mention a 'Surprise party',..?
“What are you doing here?!” My Father barked as he stepped out from the kitchen, a large frosted cake in his hands. ('Mmmm frosting!')
“I live here”
“I meant what are you doing home from school at two in the afternoon?”
“We had a free study period” I lied.
“Really?” My Father replied skeptically, his eyebrow arching in a most alarming manner,..
Did he suspect me?
I decided to quickly change the subject.
“Of course, you probably didn’t have study period when you were a boy, I imagine education was very different back in your day. Computers hadn’t been invented yet, the Country was still at War with the Morlocks,.. dinosaurs roamed the Earth with impunity-”
“Somehow, despite the look on my face… you’re still talking,..”
“Sorry” I apologized, finally taking the hint
“Apology accepted” He said, in a gracious tone.
“So, is all this for me?” I asked, looking round with wide eyed wonder at the decorations.
“Of course not. This is for our other daughter called Samantha. We keep her in the cellar as a spare,..”
“Sarcasm really is the lowest form of wit,..” I replied pointedly.
“As someone well schooled in the ancient martial art of sarcasm it is my legal obligation to give a stupid remark to a stupid question”
“Tell me, are you always this annoying or is today a special occasion?”
“Do you really think you’re going to dig your way out of this situation with cheap insults?”
“My insults are never cheap!” I fired back
“You know what they say Samantha, ‘Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver’”
“Is that really a saying? Can you cite your sources?”
“Enough of this redundant intimacy, have you given any thought to what the punishment is going to be when your Mother discovers that her conscientious young daughter skipped on school for the afternoon?”
“I told you, I had a study period-”
“I know what you told me,..” He began, sounding for all the world like the understudy in an amateur production of an Agatha Christie mystery “but I suspect that your story wouldn't hold up under scrutiny from your Mother. She's like a bloodhound for the truth,.. “
This much was true. In fact we all lived in constant fear of her investigative powers.
It has often been remarked (around our dinner table) that here are three things one should never do in life, pee in the wind, tug on Superman's cape and attempt to lie to my Mother.
“Now imagine, if you will,” he said, warming to the theme “just how much worse your punishment will be when Your Mother/ My wife discovers that you ruined the surprise party she’s been planning for weeks,..”
“In my defense, it’s not actually my Birthday until the weekend,..”
“Really Samantha, don’t be so pedantic”
“Maybe you should stop being such a sesquipedalian,..” I fired back.
“Maybe you should stop using unnecessarily big words in an attempt to make your Old Man appear foolish”
““Look, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings when I implied you were stupid just now. I really thought you already knew,..”
“Okay young lady, I suggest you find your patience before I lose mine.” He said bitting his lip.
He sounded deadly serious. Like a man handling wet dynamite.
“Sometimes I need what only you can provide: your absence.”
“That’s okay, I can leave,..”
“Ah, sadly, I'm rather afraid that won't be possible,.. in fact-” he said, pausing for dramatic effect “You won't be going anywhere for quite some time,..”
“You wouldn't dare,..”
“I think we both know I would”
“Dad-?!” I began to plead,..
“Please don't beg, it's unbecoming. Now, wait there for a moment while I make a phone call”
I was too flabbergasted to argue and meekly stood stock still like a condemned prisoner waiting for her last cigarette.
Minutes later he returned. The news, it seemed was not good.
“I just got off the phone with your Mum-”
“And she said ‘all is forgiven’ and you should let me go free,.. so, pizza for tea?” I suggested hopefully.
“Not quite”
“You mean I'm grounded?”
“In a manner of speaking,..” he teased, enjoying himself “Now, can you take your glasses off? I've got a surprise for you-”
Reluctantly I did as I was told only for my Father to produce one of my Mother's brightly coloured silk scarves which he tied firmly over my eyes blindfolding me.
“What on Earth-?”
“I'm sorry Samantha, but I've spoken with the head of the Household and we've agreed that you need to be taken into protective custody until such time as your Birthday party becomes public knowledge,..”
“Protective custody,..?” I repeated back feigning concern.
“That's right. Don't worry, you won't be harmed, but I'm afraid you may be a little indisposed,..”
I smiled knowingly.
“Do what you must you heartless fiend”
“That's the spirit, now you should probably freshen up first,..”
“Rude”
“I meant I thought it might be a sensible precaution if you availed yourself of the facilities before I locked you in for the night”
“Oh, I see,..”
He escorted me to the bathroom and stood guard outside
“Can I take my blindfold off now?”I yelled through the door
“That’s probably a good idea” he agreed “I'm not cleaning up after you”
“Ewww!” I replied.
“Sorry!” he yelled his apology.
“While I'm in here can you fetch me my handbag”?
“Is this usual procedure for a kidnapping?” He asked wryly
Nonetheless he consented to bringing the bag without further complaints and I applied some make up and fixed my hair. If there was going to be a party later, I wanted to look my best. Speaking of which, staring at my reflection in the mirror I noticed my school clothes were looking a little disheveled.
I wasn’t familiar with the uniform code as it applied to fake kidnappings, but deciding to err on the side of caution I fastened my collar and straightened my tie in the mirror.
Finally I replaced the blindfold and opened the door.
Stepping back into the hallway I was met by my Father who, without a word guided me gently upstairs to what I assume was the spare room and sat me down in a wooden desk chair.
I obediently shifted back into the seat and waited patiently to learn the precise terms of my punishment. All at once I felt my wrists being seized and placed behind my back
My heart skipped a beat. For a moment it felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest like John Hurt at a dinner party.
Oh my God, I thought to myself, was I actually going to be tied up?
Of course, what my Father couldn't know was that being kidnapped was a long held, if well concealed fantasy of mine.
It was hard to recall exactly when my interest in being tied up first began, but from a very young age I had always been fascinated by the notion of the damsel in distress. Cursed with an overactive imagination I desperately wanted to learn, for instance what Lois Lane was thinking when she was tied to a chair, fastened to a stake, or left in some dusty, old attic bound and gagged?
Surely, these experiences merited far more attention than everyone else seemed to be giving them. Or was it possible that I was the only one who felt this way?
Either way, as I grew older I discovered, to my considerable shame and embarrassment that I became noticeably flushed whenever I saw a women getting restrained on TV.
Indeed one of my most vivid memories of my childhood was shifting uneasily in my seat as we watched Batgirl being bound and gagged by the villainous (if extremely attractive) Catwoman. Actually the experience proved to be so uncomfortable that I had to leave the room in order to compose myself. After all I didn't want anyone to suspect that I was a little too interested in the plight of the pretty young crime fighter,..
Perhaps inevitably the very next day I remember using a skipping rope to try to recreate the scene from the previous night, posing in the mirror with my hands behind my back and a school tie in my mouth.
This was the first time I had attempted to tie myself up.
It would not be the last.
Blessed with an over-active imagination (and with my eyes covered) it was easy to imagine that I was being kidnapped for ransom by a mustache twirling braggart, rather than being tied up by my slightly overweight and somewhat balding Father.
Soon enough my arms were fastened firmly behind my back with a complicated series of knots that suggested some, hitherto unexamined nautical experience on the part of my Dad.
Satisfied that I was suitably restrained he finished the job by tying my feet together.
When fully applied my bonds were firm but not excessively tight. I could certainly have few complaints regarding my treatment thus far into my captivity.
For several reasons.
I struggled within my restraints for a few minutes, more out of curiosity than anything else, but failed completely either to find any slack or to reach any of the knots.
I decided just to relax and wait it out - besides, as you can no doubt imagine, I was rather enjoying the game.
(In the world of my imagination I was a brave explorer captured by a bloodthirsty tribe, or a Princess taken hostage by a ruthless band of Space Pirates,..)
After a while my Father removed my blindfold before offering me a drink of water through a straw. Once I had satisfied my thirst he produced a balled up handkerchief and held it up to my face until I cottoned on.
“Just so you don't get any funny ideas about yelling for help” he explained,..
“You mean you don't trust me? I'm hurt-”
“Enough of the back-chat Sister. Now open up!”
“Okay, but if you really must gag me can you at least tie something over my mouth like they do on TV?”
“Very well,.. your Highness. Did you have anything particular in mind?”
Was my Father really asking me to pick out my own gag?
Well, as someone who had draws stuffed full of scarves and bandanna's the options were almost limitless,.. but I decides to stick with a classic,..
“There’s a spare school tie in my laundry basket,..” I suggested
Without a word he fished the article, now somewhat creased.
“Better?” he asked, stretching the material taunt.
“Much” I said happily.
I opened my mouth and allowed him to tie the scarf firmly between my teeth.
Was I imagining it, or did he seem to take great pleasure in making it cruelly tight?
“See you soon” he said replacing my glasses before scampering off and closing the door behind him.
I smiled from behind my gag.
No longer blindfolded I was finally able to examine my predicament in the mirror.
I'm never quite sure how to describe myself. I mean I should probably start with the obvious – my height. Standing (or in this case sitting) at just under six feet tall it fair to assume that I am frequently among the very first to know it's raining.
As for my general appearance, try to imagine a bookish nerd with an all-over body tan which suggested that I rarely venture outside of the library during term time. Speaking of which, there is also the small matter of my school uniform,.. in my case this consists of a starched, long sleeved blouse (buttoned at the collar) a green skirt and matching blazer, together with a yellow and green necktie.
For some reason the fact that I was dressed for class made the whole thing feel even more exciting, like I was a teen detective caught snooping around an abandoned warehouse,..
However, even with my new found ability to see I still couldn't find a way to get free. Not that I really wanted to you understand,..
After an hour or so I began to hear guests arriving and music emanating from the living room directly below my makeshift prison.
Whilst I was certainly enjoying playing hostage, I found I was also beginning to feel increasingly frustrated that I was unable to join my own party. It seemed a most unusual punishment for playing hokey from school- unless of course someone had been studying my internet search history,..
After what felt like forever my Mother finally appeared in the doorway.
“I've half a mind to leave you there!” Mum chided me with a grin that suggested she found the whole punishment to be one giant wheeze.
I tried to plead for clemency but my gag rendered my speech almost incomprehensible.
“Don't worry. Cinderella can still go to the ball” She said to my enormous relief “But since it's a fancy dress party you should probably get changed into your costume first,..”
'Costume?!' This was music to my ears, I bowed at the knee to no-one in my love of dressing up.
“We hope you like it” She said revealing a multicolored wig and a straitjacket emblazoned with the logo of Arkham Asylum.
“That's perfect! It's just what I always wanted- wait, how did you know?” I asked after my gag was unhooked
“You left your laptop logged on a few weeks ago and I saw that your screen saver was a picture of Harley Quinn wearing a jacket just like this one” Mother explained with a wry grin.
All at once I panicked as I slowly recalled the contents of the page I had unwittingly left open on my computer. It was a message board discussing the mysterious allure of damsels in distress.
Oh crap! I thought to myself.
There followed a pause so pregnant it was threatening to give birth to twins.
“I hesitate to ask, but was that all you saw on my computer?”
“Don't worry, I didn't tell your Dad about your little kidnap fantasies” She said whispering in my ear,
“Just consider your little hostage experience an early Birthday present from me”
“You mean to say that was all your idea?”
“Of course?”
“Thank you Mum?” I replied, unsure what else to say.
“You're very welcome sweetie. but don't get too excited,.."she said replacing my gag "starting tomorrow you are 100% grounded!"
Silently I had to agree that this punishment seemed more than reasonable.
Fin.
Creeping home with all the stealth of a panther in soft shoes I opened the door to the family home only to discover the front room covered in balloons, the dinner table buckling under the weight of numerous plates of finger food and a large colourful banner pinned to the wall with “Happy Birthday Samantha” written in bold, friendly letters.
Did someone mention a 'Surprise party',..?
“What are you doing here?!” My Father barked as he stepped out from the kitchen, a large frosted cake in his hands. ('Mmmm frosting!')
“I live here”
“I meant what are you doing home from school at two in the afternoon?”
“We had a free study period” I lied.
“Really?” My Father replied skeptically, his eyebrow arching in a most alarming manner,..
Did he suspect me?
I decided to quickly change the subject.
“Of course, you probably didn’t have study period when you were a boy, I imagine education was very different back in your day. Computers hadn’t been invented yet, the Country was still at War with the Morlocks,.. dinosaurs roamed the Earth with impunity-”
“Somehow, despite the look on my face… you’re still talking,..”
“Sorry” I apologized, finally taking the hint
“Apology accepted” He said, in a gracious tone.
“So, is all this for me?” I asked, looking round with wide eyed wonder at the decorations.
“Of course not. This is for our other daughter called Samantha. We keep her in the cellar as a spare,..”
“Sarcasm really is the lowest form of wit,..” I replied pointedly.
“As someone well schooled in the ancient martial art of sarcasm it is my legal obligation to give a stupid remark to a stupid question”
“Tell me, are you always this annoying or is today a special occasion?”
“Do you really think you’re going to dig your way out of this situation with cheap insults?”
“My insults are never cheap!” I fired back
“You know what they say Samantha, ‘Silence is golden, but duct tape is silver’”
“Is that really a saying? Can you cite your sources?”
“Enough of this redundant intimacy, have you given any thought to what the punishment is going to be when your Mother discovers that her conscientious young daughter skipped on school for the afternoon?”
“I told you, I had a study period-”
“I know what you told me,..” He began, sounding for all the world like the understudy in an amateur production of an Agatha Christie mystery “but I suspect that your story wouldn't hold up under scrutiny from your Mother. She's like a bloodhound for the truth,.. “
This much was true. In fact we all lived in constant fear of her investigative powers.
It has often been remarked (around our dinner table) that here are three things one should never do in life, pee in the wind, tug on Superman's cape and attempt to lie to my Mother.
“Now imagine, if you will,” he said, warming to the theme “just how much worse your punishment will be when Your Mother/ My wife discovers that you ruined the surprise party she’s been planning for weeks,..”
“In my defense, it’s not actually my Birthday until the weekend,..”
“Really Samantha, don’t be so pedantic”
“Maybe you should stop being such a sesquipedalian,..” I fired back.
“Maybe you should stop using unnecessarily big words in an attempt to make your Old Man appear foolish”
““Look, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings when I implied you were stupid just now. I really thought you already knew,..”
“Okay young lady, I suggest you find your patience before I lose mine.” He said bitting his lip.
He sounded deadly serious. Like a man handling wet dynamite.
“Sometimes I need what only you can provide: your absence.”
“That’s okay, I can leave,..”
“Ah, sadly, I'm rather afraid that won't be possible,.. in fact-” he said, pausing for dramatic effect “You won't be going anywhere for quite some time,..”
“You wouldn't dare,..”
“I think we both know I would”
“Dad-?!” I began to plead,..
“Please don't beg, it's unbecoming. Now, wait there for a moment while I make a phone call”
I was too flabbergasted to argue and meekly stood stock still like a condemned prisoner waiting for her last cigarette.
Minutes later he returned. The news, it seemed was not good.
“I just got off the phone with your Mum-”
“And she said ‘all is forgiven’ and you should let me go free,.. so, pizza for tea?” I suggested hopefully.
“Not quite”
“You mean I'm grounded?”
“In a manner of speaking,..” he teased, enjoying himself “Now, can you take your glasses off? I've got a surprise for you-”
Reluctantly I did as I was told only for my Father to produce one of my Mother's brightly coloured silk scarves which he tied firmly over my eyes blindfolding me.
“What on Earth-?”
“I'm sorry Samantha, but I've spoken with the head of the Household and we've agreed that you need to be taken into protective custody until such time as your Birthday party becomes public knowledge,..”
“Protective custody,..?” I repeated back feigning concern.
“That's right. Don't worry, you won't be harmed, but I'm afraid you may be a little indisposed,..”
I smiled knowingly.
“Do what you must you heartless fiend”
“That's the spirit, now you should probably freshen up first,..”
“Rude”
“I meant I thought it might be a sensible precaution if you availed yourself of the facilities before I locked you in for the night”
“Oh, I see,..”
He escorted me to the bathroom and stood guard outside
“Can I take my blindfold off now?”I yelled through the door
“That’s probably a good idea” he agreed “I'm not cleaning up after you”
“Ewww!” I replied.
“Sorry!” he yelled his apology.
“While I'm in here can you fetch me my handbag”?
“Is this usual procedure for a kidnapping?” He asked wryly
Nonetheless he consented to bringing the bag without further complaints and I applied some make up and fixed my hair. If there was going to be a party later, I wanted to look my best. Speaking of which, staring at my reflection in the mirror I noticed my school clothes were looking a little disheveled.
I wasn’t familiar with the uniform code as it applied to fake kidnappings, but deciding to err on the side of caution I fastened my collar and straightened my tie in the mirror.
Finally I replaced the blindfold and opened the door.
Stepping back into the hallway I was met by my Father who, without a word guided me gently upstairs to what I assume was the spare room and sat me down in a wooden desk chair.
I obediently shifted back into the seat and waited patiently to learn the precise terms of my punishment. All at once I felt my wrists being seized and placed behind my back
My heart skipped a beat. For a moment it felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest like John Hurt at a dinner party.
Oh my God, I thought to myself, was I actually going to be tied up?
Of course, what my Father couldn't know was that being kidnapped was a long held, if well concealed fantasy of mine.
It was hard to recall exactly when my interest in being tied up first began, but from a very young age I had always been fascinated by the notion of the damsel in distress. Cursed with an overactive imagination I desperately wanted to learn, for instance what Lois Lane was thinking when she was tied to a chair, fastened to a stake, or left in some dusty, old attic bound and gagged?
Surely, these experiences merited far more attention than everyone else seemed to be giving them. Or was it possible that I was the only one who felt this way?
Either way, as I grew older I discovered, to my considerable shame and embarrassment that I became noticeably flushed whenever I saw a women getting restrained on TV.
Indeed one of my most vivid memories of my childhood was shifting uneasily in my seat as we watched Batgirl being bound and gagged by the villainous (if extremely attractive) Catwoman. Actually the experience proved to be so uncomfortable that I had to leave the room in order to compose myself. After all I didn't want anyone to suspect that I was a little too interested in the plight of the pretty young crime fighter,..
Perhaps inevitably the very next day I remember using a skipping rope to try to recreate the scene from the previous night, posing in the mirror with my hands behind my back and a school tie in my mouth.
This was the first time I had attempted to tie myself up.
It would not be the last.
Blessed with an over-active imagination (and with my eyes covered) it was easy to imagine that I was being kidnapped for ransom by a mustache twirling braggart, rather than being tied up by my slightly overweight and somewhat balding Father.
Soon enough my arms were fastened firmly behind my back with a complicated series of knots that suggested some, hitherto unexamined nautical experience on the part of my Dad.
Satisfied that I was suitably restrained he finished the job by tying my feet together.
When fully applied my bonds were firm but not excessively tight. I could certainly have few complaints regarding my treatment thus far into my captivity.
For several reasons.
I struggled within my restraints for a few minutes, more out of curiosity than anything else, but failed completely either to find any slack or to reach any of the knots.
I decided just to relax and wait it out - besides, as you can no doubt imagine, I was rather enjoying the game.
(In the world of my imagination I was a brave explorer captured by a bloodthirsty tribe, or a Princess taken hostage by a ruthless band of Space Pirates,..)
After a while my Father removed my blindfold before offering me a drink of water through a straw. Once I had satisfied my thirst he produced a balled up handkerchief and held it up to my face until I cottoned on.
“Just so you don't get any funny ideas about yelling for help” he explained,..
“You mean you don't trust me? I'm hurt-”
“Enough of the back-chat Sister. Now open up!”
“Okay, but if you really must gag me can you at least tie something over my mouth like they do on TV?”
“Very well,.. your Highness. Did you have anything particular in mind?”
Was my Father really asking me to pick out my own gag?
Well, as someone who had draws stuffed full of scarves and bandanna's the options were almost limitless,.. but I decides to stick with a classic,..
“There’s a spare school tie in my laundry basket,..” I suggested
Without a word he fished the article, now somewhat creased.
“Better?” he asked, stretching the material taunt.
“Much” I said happily.
I opened my mouth and allowed him to tie the scarf firmly between my teeth.
Was I imagining it, or did he seem to take great pleasure in making it cruelly tight?
“See you soon” he said replacing my glasses before scampering off and closing the door behind him.
I smiled from behind my gag.
No longer blindfolded I was finally able to examine my predicament in the mirror.
I'm never quite sure how to describe myself. I mean I should probably start with the obvious – my height. Standing (or in this case sitting) at just under six feet tall it fair to assume that I am frequently among the very first to know it's raining.
As for my general appearance, try to imagine a bookish nerd with an all-over body tan which suggested that I rarely venture outside of the library during term time. Speaking of which, there is also the small matter of my school uniform,.. in my case this consists of a starched, long sleeved blouse (buttoned at the collar) a green skirt and matching blazer, together with a yellow and green necktie.
For some reason the fact that I was dressed for class made the whole thing feel even more exciting, like I was a teen detective caught snooping around an abandoned warehouse,..
However, even with my new found ability to see I still couldn't find a way to get free. Not that I really wanted to you understand,..
After an hour or so I began to hear guests arriving and music emanating from the living room directly below my makeshift prison.
Whilst I was certainly enjoying playing hostage, I found I was also beginning to feel increasingly frustrated that I was unable to join my own party. It seemed a most unusual punishment for playing hokey from school- unless of course someone had been studying my internet search history,..
After what felt like forever my Mother finally appeared in the doorway.
“I've half a mind to leave you there!” Mum chided me with a grin that suggested she found the whole punishment to be one giant wheeze.
I tried to plead for clemency but my gag rendered my speech almost incomprehensible.
“Don't worry. Cinderella can still go to the ball” She said to my enormous relief “But since it's a fancy dress party you should probably get changed into your costume first,..”
'Costume?!' This was music to my ears, I bowed at the knee to no-one in my love of dressing up.
“We hope you like it” She said revealing a multicolored wig and a straitjacket emblazoned with the logo of Arkham Asylum.
“That's perfect! It's just what I always wanted- wait, how did you know?” I asked after my gag was unhooked
“You left your laptop logged on a few weeks ago and I saw that your screen saver was a picture of Harley Quinn wearing a jacket just like this one” Mother explained with a wry grin.
All at once I panicked as I slowly recalled the contents of the page I had unwittingly left open on my computer. It was a message board discussing the mysterious allure of damsels in distress.
Oh crap! I thought to myself.
There followed a pause so pregnant it was threatening to give birth to twins.
“I hesitate to ask, but was that all you saw on my computer?”
“Don't worry, I didn't tell your Dad about your little kidnap fantasies” She said whispering in my ear,
“Just consider your little hostage experience an early Birthday present from me”
“You mean to say that was all your idea?”
“Of course?”
“Thank you Mum?” I replied, unsure what else to say.
“You're very welcome sweetie. but don't get too excited,.."she said replacing my gag "starting tomorrow you are 100% grounded!"
Silently I had to agree that this punishment seemed more than reasonable.
Fin.
