Kidnap Boy : 04 - The First Time Dena Tied Me Up (F/M)

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Kidnap Boy : 04 - The First Time Dena Tied Me Up (F/M)

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By kidnapboy

I’ve written a couple of stories about my friend Dena kidnapping me, tying me up, and torturing me when we were teenagers. Here is the story of the first time it happened. I was 14, she was 17. We were both in high school (freshman and junior).
To quickly recap – Dena was the girl I idolized, and we’d been best of friends since we were little. Our mothers (both of whom were divorced) were best friends and that’s how we met. Dena was blonde, beautiful, incredibly cool, very popular, and had worked her way up to a black belt in karate. She did competitions and was able to do things like break boards with her feet. She loved me like a brother and we had lots of fun together.

We “played” together a lot – wrestling, playfighting, little tickle fights. That kind of stuff. But until this first time she had never tied me up. I was no match of her, obviously. Tickling, though, was something Dena was fond of – probably because I’m about the most ticklish guy in the world. Prior to the first tie-up, when Dena would tickle me it would be for a few seconds, maybe a minute here or there. But that was it and I was certain I couldn’t take anymore than that.

When my mother worked late, I would often sleep at Dena’s house. On this particular occasion, it was a Friday and her Mom was heading out of town for a weekend at her sister’s (Dena’s aunt) when I arrived around 4. I saw her as I walked in with my bags and said hi.

“Hi doll” she said to me, giving me a hug. “Dena’s in the basement working out. You staying over?” (Dena had a pretty elaborate workout room in the front half of the basement, with mats and heavy bags and stuff like that.)

“Sure am, Mrs. J. One of these days you’ll have to charge me rent,” I said and we laughed.

“Actually, Dena mentioned something about givng you a karate lesson,” her mom said. “Don’t let her hurt you.” And with another laugh she was off.

I dropped my bag in the spare room upstairs where I slept, walked down through the den, and then went down the few stairs into the basement. Dena was there stretching on the floor. She wore light blue linen pants that she worked out in (like a combo between hospital scrubs and pajamas) and a grey V-neck workout T-shirt. She had on sneakers. There were mats on the floor, two stereo/radios on a bench, weights in the corner, two heavy bags hanging, and hooks on the wall with several pieces of rope (jump ropes, I imagined), workout belts, and towels. She spotted me and got up.

“Hey, Jess. I was just going to get started. How about you watch for a while and then I’ll give you a lesson. You’ve learned some good stuff so far,” Dena said.

“You’re Mom said don’t hurt me” I joked.

“Hee hee hee,” Dena said. “Little ol’ me? I don’t know where she got that idea. Hurt you? Never.”

“Dena, the last time you gave me a ‘lesson ‘ you wound up pinning me down and poking my rubs until I cried ‘Uncle!’ Remember? Your mom heard that – I was so embarrassed!”

“Hee hee,” Dena giggle some more. “I know, I’m just big bad Dena, right? And now I’ve lured you into my lair! Gee whiz, your paranoid!”

“Yea, I’m staring at a wall filled with ropes and a woman who’s a black belt. I’m TOTALLY safe!” I joked.

“Those are jump ropes, you sick minded freak. 4-footers, 6-footers, and 8-footers. They’re for exercise – not binding you!”

“I put nothing by you, lady.”

We laughed and joked and she finished her stretching.

“Tell you what,” Dena said. “We’ll send out for some dinner tonight and maybe play a game. OK? (I nodded) I don’t need to work too long. Let’s have a little lesson, first. Me and you.”

I said OK.

Dena came to the edge of the mat and kicked off her shoes. She had on grey athletic socks that matched her T-shirt. “Take your shoes off,” Dena said.

“Uh, not thanks. I prefer to keep them on” and I stepped onto the mat.

“Jess, we’re going to practice take downs, and I’d rather you be in socks than shoes. Take ‘em off,” Dena said again.

“Uh uh. My rule. My shoes stay on,” I said emphatically, standing in the center of the mats. I felt a little more secure with my sneakers on was all – though I don’t know why I made a big deal out of it.

“OK – my gym, my rules,” Dena said, this time emphatically and slowly. “Take off your shoes, or I will take them off for you!”

I tried to move quickly away but Dena hit the ground, swung her feet out in a sweeping motion, hooking my legs and bringing me down. She then scissored my feet between her legs and pulled my sneakers off. I tried to get up but she held me down, laughing, and quickly pinned me.

“Are you going to give me a hard time?” she asked. “Do I have to beat ya up?”

“Looks that way doesn’t it?” I said, trying to break free. She held me tight to the ground.

“OK, it’s lesson time. That’s one strike, by the way. You get to 3 and you’re in trouble.”

We practiced kicks for our lesson and I was getting OK with it. We spent about 15 minutes practicing and it went well. She was pleased and said she wanted to see 3 quick kicks on the heavy bag and then we were done.

“OK,” I said. “But guess what I want in return?”

“Oh geez, Jess. You want me to do a flying one?” Dena asked.

“Yep. It’s soo cool.” This was where with a running start she would stop just before the bag, jump in the air in 360 motion and kick the bag. It really was cool – she always had me hold the bag when she did this, so the bag wouldn’t give and she wouldn’t fall.

“Oh, alright. You give me three good ones on the bag and then I’ll do it, OK? Then I need 10 minutes to warm down and I’m done. OK?”

I agreed and gave her three good kicks on the heavy bag. Dena was impressed. Now she prepared to do her running kick, and I prepared a little joke. When she swung her feet to kick, I would move the bag out of the way to make her fall. Payback for stealing my shoes.

“Hold that bag, OK?” she said and I nodded. She ran at it, stopped, jumped, spun, and kicked…and missed. I move the bag out of the way and she fell straight to the floor. We both laughed and she got up slowly.

“Ah hah!” Dena said, laughing. “Verrrrry funny. Looks like I have a little joker in the house. Well, joke about this!” And she lunged at me, knocking me down and pinning me again. I struggled to get up to no avail.

“You know, maybe I SHOULD use those ropes for something else,” Dena said, staring down at me.

“Like what,” I said., trying to break free.

“Like tying you up! You have two strikes on you and a 3rd might just wind you up all tied up!” Dena laughed. “You better knock it off, or else!”

”Oooh, I’m scared!” I mocked.

“Nah, you’re not scared,” Dena said, “but you ARE still ticklish, right?”

Now I was a little spooked.

“N-n-n-nooo, Dena, please…”

“Oh, so now you want to be NICE?” Dena asked. I nodded. “Your last chance. DON’T push it. Now go sit quietly for 10 – only 10, that’s all. I need to warm down.”

Dena got up and unpinned me and went to do her bag routine. She went over to the first radio and put on classical music – soft stuff. It’ how she cooled down, with half-stretching and half-yoga. I looked at the other CD while she closed her eyes and got very relaxed on the floor. The other CD player had dance-type music that she worked out to.

I got an idea that, in hindsight, changed our relationship. How funny would it be if I blared the dance music right in the middle of her relaxation? Pretty funny, I thought. Yeah, I know I was pushing my luck, but I was 14 and 14-year-olds are generally stupid and obnoxious. And we loved pushing each other’s buttons.

Just as Dena was in the lotus position, I quietly flipped the switch for the other player. Dance music blared and she must have jumped sky-high. I fell to the ground laughing my ass off. I have to tell you, it was funny.

“Oh, that is IT! You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” Dena said, hopping to her feet and going to the wall where the ropes hung. “Now, you are MINE! You’re DEAD!”

Dena grabed all three ropes off the wall and began to advance on me, grinning like the cat playing with a mouse.

Now at this point I had a problem, because the ropes hung on the wall near the staircase out of there, and the stereos were in the far corner. I hadn’t planned an escape route, and Dena basically had me trapped. Uh oh.

“Come ‘ere, sweetie. Time to tie you up!” Dena said, running at me. I had no time to react and just fell to the floor, basically surrendering. I was laughing hysterically and Dena rolled me on my stomach, grabbed my hands, and tied them behind my back.

“What are you, kinky?” I yelled. Verbal abuse was all I had left. “Some kind of kinky weirdo?”

“Oh, I’m VERY kinky,” Dena said, holding another rope, and sitting on my back facing my feet. She looked over her shoulder to see me. “I’m just a bondage nut and you’re my very first victim! Now hold still and stop squirming while I tie your feet!”

Dena tied my feet tightly at the ankles and then, with the same rope (must’ve been the 8-footer) lashed my knees together. She then rolled me over and sat on me at the waist, pinning me.

She began to giggle maniacally. “Omigod! I can’t believe I tied you up! This is so cool! Looks like you’re my prisoner now, huh?” Dena said, still giggling.

“DENA…” I shouted but then Dena clamped her had over my mouth tight, shutting me up.

“Shhhh,” Dena whispered. “No yelling. Now I’m going to take my hand off your mouth and you’re not going to yell again, OK?”

Handgagged and helpless, I nodded. Dena removed her hand from my mouth but stayed on top of me.

“Dena,” I said quietly, “please untie me. You win. I won’t do it again. Please, untie the ropes and I’ll be good.”

“No, you won’t do it again, and yes, you WILL be good, because now you’re ALL TIED UP! I think tonight’s plans just changed – I’m going to kidnap you instead. And you will be my little ‘kidnap boy.’

(Thus, a nickname was born).

“Oh, God, Dena…”

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Dena said, getting to her feet. She stood with her feet at my head and said slowly and sharply. “Do not move! If you do the punishment will be severe.”

Dena left me tied up on the floor and walked into the back of the cellar, where I heard her doing something at the washer/dryer. I stayed bound and still – I thought it best. She came around the corner with a laundry basket full of socks and t-shirts.

“I almost forgot – I told my Mom I’d unload the dryer and fold these shirts and socks. OK,” she said, putting the basket down. “That’s for later. Back to business.”

Dena grabbed a folding chair from against the wall and brought it over to where I was and sat in it, her feet at my head. She crossed her legs so one foot dangled just over my face and folded her arms.

“Now,” Dena said, “what to do with our little hostage here. First I think a very serious apology is in order!”

“Sure Dena, but could you move your feet first?” I asked, stupidly. “Your socks…”

“What about my socks, Jess? Are they smelly? Are you insulting me by saying I have foot odor?” Dena asked, he foot staying there.

“Well, no…it’s just that…you’ve been working out…”

“Oh, that is strike 4! You’re dead! And I just got a great idea. Hey kidnap boy, say hello to my little friend!” Dena said, and then she put her socked-foot over my mouth. I tried to scream but her foot was firm. No, the smell wasn’t great (not terrible, but this was also more than a bit humiliating.

“Good! Enjoy my foot for a gag, you little creep! Consider it your first lesson,” Dena taunted while I tried to writhe out of the way. But her other foot stayed on my chest and I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Now, let’s see. Now that I finally have you quiet, I can think of your punishment. If 3 strikes means I tie you up, 4 strikes has to be MUCH WORSE!”

I was screaming now into Dena’s foot as she gagged me with it, but she didn’t care. She looked down at me, giggling for about 20 seconds, and then said, “I’m now ready to pass sentence. Does the defendant wish to say anything prior to being sentenced?”

Again I tried to scream but Dena’s foot kept me quiet. I struggled to free my hands but they were tightly tied behind my back.

“Hmm, seems the cat’s got his tongue. OK, we shall now pronounce sentence on our little kidnap boy,” Dena said, leaning down but keeping her foot firm on my mouth. “I sentence you to the maximum sentence allowed by law for receiving 4 strikes from your wonderful friend Dena. Your sentence is…death…BY TORTURE! You shall be tortured to death!”

I continued to scream into her foot, giddy and scared.

“I need to take my foot off your mouth for a minute to get everything ready for the torture,” Dena said. “DO NOT MOVE, AND DO NOT SAY A WORD! Trust me, the torture will only get worse – and LONGER – you do. And if you move or say a peep, you get another foot gag – only this time without the sock. BARE feet! Think about that for a minute. Remnember, not a word.”

Dena’s foot came off my mouth and I gasped for air, remaining still, while she went across the room, grabbed the heavy bar from her weight set (it weighed 45 pounds) and rolled ir over to where I was, at my feet. She then loaded up plenty of weight – I think about 100 lbs. per side, and locked it in. She then grabbed my bound feet, grabbed the final piece of rope, and tied them down to the barbells. Basically, I was tied down at the feet to 250 lbs. or so, and the weights weren’t going anywhere (they weren’t round – more hexagonal) I couldn’t move my feet.

“Almost ready, sweetie,” Dena said, pulling a long red sock out of the laundry basket. “Now, you can talk. Beg if you want. But nothing will save you from being tortured to death!”


”Dena, don’t do this. Wh-what …what are you doing,” I said as Dena advanced on me with the red sock and an evil grin. For a moment I thought I’d be gagged again, but she crouched down and instead blindfolded me with the sock. As always, the blindfold was tight – not uncomfortable, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

As I stammered for mercy, Dena got up and I could feel her moving toward my feet. “Oooh, someone’s scared, isn’t he?” Dena said. “Someone KNOWS he’s about to be tortured but good. Oh well.”

That’s when I felt her taking my socks off, leaving my feet bare.

“Hello, little tootsies. Would you like to know how I’m going to torture you? As if you couldn’t guess,” Dena giggled. “Your torture is I’m going to tickle you to death!”

“DENA, NO! I CAN’T TAKE THAT! YOU KNOW HOW TICKLISH I AM. PLEASE DON’T!!!”

“Hee hee hee. Yes, of COURSE I know how ticklish you are. That’s why I’m going to tickle you, silly. We’ll just see how much you can take…and maybe you’ll learn a lesson!”

With that, Dena began to tickle the bottoms of my feet and in between my toes and I saw stars. I shrieked with laughter as she scratched the souls with her fingers and tickled my feet everywhere. This was brutal.

“Tickle tickle, little footsies,” Dena said in a baby voice. “Ooh, such a ticklish wittle boy!”

“AHHHH!!! AHHHHH!!!!” was all I could get out.

“Yes, that’s why I didn’t gag you. Scream all you want. Your cries for help will never be heard,” Dena said villain-like, her fingers finishing up on my feet. “Let’s tickle you somewhere else.”

That’s when I felt her savagely tickling my ribs and stomach. I tried to defend myself while screaming but Dena had tied my hands too well. I was now crying as well as laughing.

“This is what you get! You get tickled by the master tickler for being bad!” Dena said, tickling my ribs and armpits with no letup. “You just had to go and be a little wiseass, huh? Well, let’s see how you like being tickle-tortured!”


Denas tickle-torture continued without mercy for what seemed like forever. I begged and pleaded to no avail. I was helpless to Dena’s sadistic tickling fingers.

By the time she got to my neck and starting running her fingers over it in light tickling strokes, I was moaning. I was laughed and screamed out.
Finally, Dena took off my blindfold and stopped tickling me. I panted and felt tears while I laughed and gasped. Dena stood over me with her foot on my chest.

“OK, you’ve had enough, honey. Don’t want to REALLY tickle you to death. Just a figure of speech. OK?” Dena said.

“Th-th-th-th thank you,” I stammered, still near-hysterical. “Please untie me, Dena! I’ve learned my lesson!”

“Um…noooo. No way will I untie you yet. I’ll release you from the torture chamber, but I’m going to bring you upstairs and keep you tied up for awhile. That’s the best deal you’re going to get, buddy. I won’t tickle you anymore, but I’m not untying you,” Dena said, and then she untied my feet from the barbell and helped me stand up. “Let’s get upstairs!”

It took a while but Dena hopped me up to the den and sat me on the futon, still tied up. I was finally composed.

“Dena, that was the cruelest – my God, I thought I was going to die!” I said.

“I know,” Dena replied. “I know how ticklish you are, and I know how good a tickler I am. You never had a chance!”

We laughed and talked for a little while and Dena put the TV on. About an hour had lapsed since she first tied me up.

“C’mon Dena, isn’t it time to untie me now? Please…”

“Nah, not yet. I’ve just got to try my favorite torture one more time. Come’ere!” And she grabbed and forced me face-up on the couch next to her.

“NO! Please don’t tickle me anymore!” I yelled.

“I’m not gonna tickle ya!” Dena said. “I’m gonna do this!” And with that Dena clamped her socked foot over my mouth again, gagging me while she laughed like crazy.

“Tickling you is fun, Jess. But thw smelly foot gag – that’s my favorite,” Dena said. “My feet are soooo comfy on your mouth.”

Finalle Dena let me up and loosened the ropes enough so I could untie myself. While I did that, she observed how much fun she had.

“I think I’m going to have to tie you up on a regular basis!” Dena said, putting her feet to my face one last time as I freed myself finally of the ropes.

“Mmmph---oh no,” I said, finally getting her foot off my mouth and dashing across the room to get away from my captor. “If there is a next time, I should get to tie YOU up, Dena. You’re EVIL!”

“Yes I am,” she taunted, putting her feet up on the couch and tossing her head back victoriously. “You want to tie me up, you have to catch me first! Don’t worry, I’ll get you again…I just won’t tell you when. But soon, you’ll be my kidnap boy again!”

And that was the first time. I know it was long, but hopefully it was worth it.

Kidnap Boy
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Post by Canuck100 »

Saturday, January 24th 2004 - 10:34:36 AM

To answer someone's question about Dena, yes, she gagged me with her bare feet at least once. Not just with her socks on. It kind of became a warning of what would happen if I REALLY stepped out of line while she was kidnapping me. Actually, the next story I'll tell is one involving her friend, Marisa, who also joined in on the tickle-torturing/foot-gag torturing fun. It's a good one. Coming soon.

You're right, Dena did enjoy dominating me, I suppose. She does have a kinky side - still does, years later - and I just think she enjoyed being able to have me at her mercy. And I have to say, even though I was the one tied up and tortured, she sure made it fun. Can't say I minded it when Dena would tie me up. Hope that doesn't make me odd. Although maybe it does, a little.

kidnap boy

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kidnap boy's stories
kidnap boy's unsorted stories
The Tickle Fight with Dena and Marissa (fm/f, ff/m)
Dena and Marissa - Torturous Spa Day (ff/m)
Kidnap Boy's and Marissa's Revenge on Dena (fm/f)
Dena's Championship Tickle Fight! (f/m, f/f, ff/m, ff/f)
Dena and Marissa - Kidnapped For Insulting Dena (ff/m)
One long day (m/f, f/m, ff/m)
Summertime Fun with Dena (f/m)
Captured, Tied Up and Tickle-Tortured by Dena/Marissa (ff/m)
Dena takes her revenge! (f/mf)
Another Dena and Marissa Story (ff/m, f/mf, ff/m)
Dena Tickles Me Into Submission (f/m)
Kidnapped by Dena (f/m, ff/m)
Captured, Tied Up and tickle-Tortured by Dena/Marissa (ff/m)
Dena's Party Prisoner (f/m)
Dena Tells the Story (f/m, ff/m)

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Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section
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