Two Cursed Childhoods (m/f, M/F)

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Beaumains
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Two Cursed Childhoods (m/f, M/F)

Post by Beaumains »

“O, no, an Indian!” Vella screamed when I emerged from my hiding spot, a fallen tree. “I surrender.”

“Walk in front of me, prisoner. You’ll go to our camp,” I ordered, hanging my two coils of rope back over my shoulder. Vella’s deep blue eyes puppy-eyed me as she raised her hands in front of her as if they were cuffed. Her brown cowboy hat and jacket, dark blue dress, big belt with silver buckle, and tan boots matched her hip-long light blonde curly hair. A crimson red bandana hung around the neck of my nine-year-old classmate.

“What if I run away?” she challenged.

“Then I’ll capture you again. You won’t outrun me.”

“Why? Am I so much slower than the others?” Vella continued, which I denied. “Please, don’t treat me any different. You tied Ava and Harper too.”

“Your mother forbid that,” I replied, shifting my eyes away. She was right. We all acted unfairly towards her, even as she was kind, intelligent, and always craving to fit in.

Vella stepped to the fallen tree and lay down. “Caleb, she won’t know. Once. Then I’ll follow you.”

“No, let’s move.”

“Come on, coward, you captured me, then tie me!” Vella exclaimed. “You’re an indian! Or can’t I lose?”

My parents had charged me to obey Vella’s mother and never provoke her, but my heart broke. I could not bully Vella anymore and made the biggest blunder thinkable. I circled my first rope around her left wrist with three windings, tied it, and let it under the tree to her other hand. Here, I secured it before winding my other rope four times around her boots. I made one loose cinch and routed the end to a branch to prevent my captive from falling.

A smirk spanned the cowgirl’s face. “What about the silencing thingy? I can still yell for help.”

After a back and forth, I caved in and loosely cleave-gagged Vella with her red bandana and added no filling or knot. It was a simplistic gag that altered her speech at most as I could not risk anything. Then I sat down on the grass and watched. Vella remained calm and pieced together how to escape her bonds. Unable to free her wrists, she struggled to find friction with her boots to shred them off but failed. She giggled in her gag and playfully thrust herself against the ropes. “Harmless,” I thought.

“Games over. Let’s go,” I stated after ten minutes. She made no request to stay tied any longer and was jubilant.

“Thanks, so much,” she said, hugging me before we strolled to the camp, a wooden treehouse over a creek. We chatted with the others, of course not mentioning the incident, and left for dinner. I would never see the treehouse or Vella again.


That afternoon plagued me for the next decade. I had wasted my life. I had been warned but spared the entire truth: Vella was human, but her mother was a sorceress, and a powerful, protective, vengeful one. No-one at school dared to critique Vella as both an art teacher and a math teacher had never shown up again after separate incidents. Hence, the warnings.

The witch cursed me, a nine-year-old, in retaliation for her daughter’s humiliation and far beyond any justifiable outrage. Every time I saw, touched, or spoke to a woman I liked, in the broadest definition possible, she would get tied up. Coal-black elastic bands, similar to bandages, would emerge out of thin air and encircle her.

My mother and sister, who I adored, moved out within a week, leaving me with my dad. He home-schooled me, so I spend the rest of my youth in solitary. When going out to a store to buy candy, a kind cashier would end up gagged, so simple, trivial trips were inaccessible. Hence, I was confined at home, where temptations remained. Observing street life out of the window was dangerous in itself as they would end up trussed up on the ground if I detected their smile. I was lonely, and as a teen, a sign of a girl melted my spirit already.

So, my dad and I moved to a rural farm. I squandered my time on the internet, played video games, and made YouTube videos to earn a quick buck. Most were top tens recycled from Wikipedia and sketchy websites, but I was out of options. Few jobs required no degree and no social interaction at all.


Then, 10 years later, I checked my email and scrolled through the usual stream of random facts I had read before. A mail starting with “Dear Caleb” caught my eye as I never mentioned my actual name in my videos. It was from Vella who invited me into her apartment. Disregarding my description of the curse, she insisted, and I drove the 14 hours to her Ivy League university’s luxurious dorm room. I had nothing to lose.

As I slowly had begun stifling my powers, I could drive on the interstates without problems. Only when I reached the campus in the early evening, I blindfolded myself when I noted a charming girl under the lime trees.

“Hey, Caleb, awesome to see you,” Vella’s sugar-sweet voice greeted. “Nod, bob your head and follow my sound. Let the two teens with the world’s worst childhoods meet up once more.”

I agreed and obeyed as we entered the apartment where Vella placed me on a soft couch. Bottles clutched on the other side of the room.

“Here’s your drink,” Vella said, giving me a glass with a particularly strong scent. Vodka. I coughed.

“New to alcohol? Poor you, it’s an excellent method to flee this brutal existence,” she laughed as I coughed after a small sip.

“It won’t solve your problems,” I answered, and black straps flew around. I had said a single sentence, so they only bound Vella’s face, and she ripped them off.

“Luckily for you, I’ve no problems. My mom eliminates all my problems, including those I’m unaware of,” Vella grinned cynically, sipping from the bottle and sunk down next to me. “Her perfect daughter should have a smooth, hassle-free road to the presidency. Ironically, it made me the most incompetent person you could picture. I despise my days too, no worries.”

I kept silent, oblivious to what to do. If I removed my blindfold, Vella would get wrapped up, and if I talked, the straps would obtain her too. So I nodded and waited.

“I wanted to meet to apologize. I was foolish and ignorant but can explain myself: I was and am estranged. Everyone fears me. Countless people I loved have had their lives wrecked for my comfort. When I stopped caring, my life stayed depressingly flawless. It’s unfair, especially to you. Shoot me.”

I paused during the ensuing silence at a loss. “Eh, you okay?” I asked, wrapping her ankles up.

“No, I’m not, and so aren’t you,” she fired back. “We hate the same person. She has ruined both our youths. So what?”

I stayed quiet as Vella refilled my glass of vodka. She gulped from the bottle, not bothering to untie herself.

“Caleb, can I somehow patch things up with you?”

“Eh, no, it’s fine,” I mumbled, feeling sad. This caused Vella’s forearms to be fixed parallel behind her back. Her elbows touched.

“Then I was thinking, that eh, sorry, you could look at me?” Vella proposed after recollecting herself. “Then you can see and touch a girl in real life. I’ll be tied but don’t mind. My neighbor will check up on me at midnight.”

My thoughts wandered for a moment before I lifted my blindfold. My heart pounded in my chest, and my stomach made backflips as I lost myself in Vella’s deep blue eyes. They were immaculate like the rest of her face despite her not wearing make-up. Lively cheeks carried a broad smirk, and her hair was as blonde with the same slight curls. Black straps nested themselves around her head. One folded itself into her mouth, and another spiraled around her head, securing it. Her nose remained free, but she was blinded and deafened as well.

Vella wore a casual white blouse with a Tyrian purple skirt and black tights, granted that my curse covered much of the latter already. The rest of her slim figure followed, and her arms got plastered against her back. Ten seconds later, the air cleared up, and an unrecognizable mummy rested on the red suede L-shaped couch.

“You alright?” I whispered, and a band searched around her and disappeared, unable to find a purpose.

Vella nodded, and I was relieved: The curse could not kill. She relaxed and became one with her bondage at peace with the circumstances. Her rhythmic breathing signaled that she had found solace and faith within the situation. Vella was the most cheerful I had seen.

After several minutes, I rose and retrieved a knife in her marble-white kitchen. With it, I cut the bindings near my host’s eyes that were not replaced. Tears diluted her eyes, so I placed her on my lap and embraced her as our frustrations of the past ten years flew freely. From her mouth, nothing more than vague, high-pitched wails escaped, but she did mind. Our conversation was over anyhow.

We sat like this for half an hour, until a loud poof filled the room combined with bright green lights.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY DAUGHTER?” an infuriated feminine voice rasped with a metallic echo following each word. I glared at Vella’s mother.

As I accepted my upcoming destiny, black belts came and bound the sorceress unashamed as roughly as physics allowed. I steered them all over her, causing the person I detested the most in the universe to tumble headfirst on the floor. A microscopic fraction of me admired my prey for one petty reason: She had given me Vella, the cutest, bravest girl I could envision. She would suffer for that.
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GreyLord
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Post by GreyLord »

So very different from Halloween but still very enjoyable. Thanks.
See The Bandit Scout on Newhome (M+F+/M+F+)
GreyLord - I dream that I have a beautiful lady wanting to be tied by me.
Beaumains
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Post by Beaumains »

GreyLord wrote: 5 months ago So very different from Halloween but still very enjoyable. Thanks.
Thanks for the comment! Yeah, it is completely different from the Halloween witch-hunt, but that is intended even when both stories contain a witch.
My Active Story: The Tangled Maiden Last update: September 21

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