01 - Basement tied
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By Janelle
Sunday, January 4th 2004 - 06:25:00 PM
Basement tied
My best tie-up game happened a few years back when I was 16. I was babysitting my younger brother Hugh and his two friends, Samantha and Matt. Sam was about 11 years old and Matt was 7, the same age as my little brother. Samantha and Matt were always obnoxious. It was a hot day, and we had spent part of the afternoon swimming in the backyard pool. I was wearing a navy blue bikini that was lined with a white stripe along the edges. My mom almost didn't let me buy it. I really wanted it because it made me feel as if I was wearing underwear, which I liked. Guys are attracted to me, I am thin, with a nice tan and long straight dirty blonde hair. My favorite thing was having the guys on the cross-country team stare as I stretched.
That afternoon Samantha, Matt and my stupid brother spent at least an hour in a water fight with supersoakers and waterballoons. I put up with it for awhile, then drenched them with the garden hose. After drying off in the sun a bit we went inside to grab something to eat and I put on my old khaki pants and a white T-shirt over my bikini. I also tied a light blue bandanna into my hair, pulling my hair back. Matt and Hugh had gone upstairs to play with legos and Sam started complaining about being bored. What a brat.
"Let's go down to the basement" I said.
"Only if I can be the evil villain" Sam replied with a mean look on her face. She was talking about the cowboys-indians game we had played in the basement a few times before: usually Matt and Hugh played cowboys, who would come to Sam's "rescue", from me the evil villain (me) who had tied Samantha to a "stake" (a chair). I quickly agreed, if Sam was the villain, that meant I was the one being tied up. I was a little excited, especially since no "cowboys" would be coming to rescue me- the boys were playing upstairs. I have fantasized about being the damsel in distress struggling in vain against my captors. In my mind I had faced torturous death at the hands of tall dark men who secretly enjoyed watching while I twisted and writhed in my bonds. In a small way I was about to play out that fantasy.
Sam and I headed down to the basement and I grabbed some white rope off the wall. The basement is really my dad's workshop were he stores his tools. It is usually locked, which made it all the more appealing- but of course I knew where the keys were. I unlocked the small side door and we descended into the darkness. The floor was cement and barely lit by little beams of light pouring in from a solitary dirty window up high on the wall. It was perfect, tools, buckets, and equipment lined the walls ominously in the dim light. I pulled on a small light in the middle of the room, which hung over the large workbench. The single bulb hanging over the workbench lit-up the top of the table eerily, like a scene from X-Files or some alien movie.
"Creepy!" Samantha said as she made her way towards the table.
"Yeah" I said, "my dad works down here all the time on weekends"
"Now I've got you Miss. Samantha- put your hands up!" Sam commanded, placing a finger against my back Sam's back as if she was holding a gun. I froze and lifted my hands.
"What are you going to do" I said, "let me go."
"Never" Sam replied, "I've got you good now!"
"I'll do whatever you want, just let don't hurt me!" I pleaded "And whatever you do, don't tie me down on the sawmill." I said while setting down the rope in my hand on the table in front of me, deliberately hinting towards the large chainsaw sitting at to one end of the workbench.
"Ha! I'll cut you in half!" Samantha threatened, jabbing me again in the back. "Get over there."
"But the table is dirty." I replied, "wait just a second." I pushed some tools aside, and pulled an old towel out of a cardboard box, and laid it out across part of the table. It wasn't nearly long enough, so I unbuttoned my khakis, pulled them down, kicked them off over my sandals, and laid them out over the other half of the table. I was now clad in sandals, my navy blue bikini bottoms, and a short white T-shirt.
I hopped up backwards onto the table, then turned around so I was sitting facing the chainsaw. I grabbed one piece of the rope and started tying it around my right ankle. What I did next left little Sam's jaw drop open. I slid forward and placed one leg on either side of the chainsaw, straddling it with the blade facing up between my knees. I reached down and started passing the rope under the table. I has Samantha pass me the rope from the other side, and then I tied it the other end around my left ankle in several loops. I was leaning forward as I tied my legs wide apart, with the cold sharp blade momentarily inches from my face. I sat up and took off my light blue bandanna.
"Should I wear a gag?"
Sam shrugged, I slid in between my teeth and tied the two ends behind my head.
I proceeded to loop the second piece of rope around my right wrist, cinching it tightly then I laid back and raised her arms over her head to each corner of the table. Sam took the rope and loop it around the leg of the table, then brought the long end to my left, looped it around that leg twice, and started tying it around my wrist.
"Better make it tight or I'll get away." I muffled through the bandanna. Sam looped the rope around my wrist a few more times, then tied several knots at the end. I was really starting to get excited. Being tied down in the spreadeagle position was something I had imagined many times before, but the actual feeling of my arms and legs secured on that table was really exciting. Sam had finished her knots and was now at the end of the table, fingering the chainsaw, and looking me over with wide eyes. I looked down at the merciless cutting tool aimed directly between my legs. The blade was posed to cut me directly in half, starting at the bottom of my bikini.
"You'll never get away in time" said Sam with a smile.
I pretended to struggle, pulling on the ropes with my arms and legs - mmmphing through my gag. Pleading for mercy, and crying for help. Twisting around but not being able to free me arms and legs started my thighs tingling. I felt a hot sensation around my neck- I was really aroused. I wondered if my wetness was showing through my bikini bottoms. Suddenly I was a little panicked - hopefully Samantha wouldn't notice.
"Now you meet your doom. . ." she said as she started pushing the chainsaw forward. Sam was fully into the game. I tested my bonds for real, with all my strength- even lifting my hips off the table, but my arms and legs would not pull free. It felt all the more real- I was the damsel in distress. Sam was even making buzzing sounds as if the chainsaw was turned on.
"You'll never get away with this!" I shouted out my loose gag
"So!" Sam replied, "You think you can escape my sawmill?" Standing with two hands on the chainsaw she looked far too eager. I kept writhing and twisting, not entirely wanting to escape, but truly fighting against the bonds. As a pulled my legs inward my thighs each touched the cold steel of the chainsaw, the sensation was unbelievable. I looked down, the edge of the blade was inches from touching my most sensitive area. I closed my eyes as Samantha pushed the blade right up against the bottom of my bikini. My hips instinctively jumped off the table. I could feel the chain catching on the cotton of my swimsuit and moving along the blade. Sam was giggling.
"You're dead!", she proclaimed.
I lowered my hips back down. My heart was pounding, my wrists and ankles were throbbing still twisted up in the rope. As I lay there spread out on the table I could feel the teeth of the chainsaw you-know-where through my damp bikini bottoms. It was the best dead that could be.
Janelle
USA
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Janelle's stories
- 01 - Basement tied (f/f)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section