Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn (m/ff, f/ffm, etc.)
Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2018 5:30 pm
This is a sequel to the first story I wrote: Prisoner in My Room.
Many thanks to [mention]Fordman[/mention] for saving this story from the old site.
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn
Characters:
Me, Rusty, age 14. Totally average guy, slightly nerdy.
Lucy, my sister, age 17. Blonde, petite, very cute. Can be rather bossy and rigid about rules, but overall very good to me. Described by many as “spunky”. Highly resembled a young Reese Witherspoon in the movie “Election”. Can be too much of a perfectionist (when I asked her to tie me up last week, she actually researched bondage techniques on the internet and practiced tying her own legs together multiple times to make sure she knew how tight to make the ropes so that they were inescapable yet not painful).
Amy, best friend of Lucy, age 16. Although not in the same grade as Lucy, Amy lived two houses away and the two had been friends since elementary school. Amy was also petite, very cute, gorgeous eyes and brown hair that just reached just below her shoulders. Whenever she smiled, she lit up the room. Our mom always referred to Amy as “cute as a button”. Because she lived so close, she came to our house often (which made me happy).
Autumn, Amy's younger sister. Autumn is the same age as me.
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn, Chapter 1
This story picks up the Friday following the events in the previous story. I had just arrived home from school about fifteen minutes prior, when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door, and Amy was standing there. I was always glad to see Amy. Would it be awkward now? Would she pretend last weekend hadn’t happened?
“Hi Rusty,” she said. “Hi Amy,” I replied. Were we back to the way we used to be, just saying hello and goodbye to each other? I had a crush on her more than ever, but I was realistic enough to know that I was probably back to just being the little brother of her best friend.
“Lucy isn’t home. She has that dinner tonight at the French restaurant with her French club.” I told her.
“Oh, I know,” she replied. “I’m here to talk to you.”
My eyes went wide and I hesitated out of nervousness.
“Can I come in?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, sorry, of course.” I held the door for her. She placed her backpack down in the entryway, and then slipped out of her shoes, leaving her shoes between her backpack and my shoes. She had done this every time she came to her house, and it always gave me a thrill. My mom had always had a rule that shoes must be removed when coming in the house, and I was so grateful for that rule every time Amy came over. She was wearing the school uniform, which consisted of a white long-sleeved blouse, blue blazer, a blue pleated skirt that ended just above a pair of cute knees, and navy-blue tights.
I looked down at her pretty stockinged feet as she unbuttoned the blazer, took it off, and hung it on the coat rack. My biggest weakness is the total obsession I have with girls’ tights. Going to a school with a strict dress code, I was surrounded by dozens of girls wearing skirts and tights every day. I’m sure my grades would have been even better if I weren’t constantly distracted by cute girls sitting at their desks, popping their heels in and out of their shoes as they took notes. Occasionally a girl would slip one or even both of her feet completely out of her shoes, wiggling her toes as she concentrated on her homework.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked as she walked into the living room. “A glass of water would be great, thanks,” she said.
She sat on the couch and tucked one foot under her. I handed her the water. “You wanted to talk to me?” I asked as I sat next to her.
“Oh Rusty, I’m so sorry about what Lucy and I did to you last weekend. I’ve been thinking of it all week. I don’t even know what to say.”
“What? Amy, please don’t worry about it. I’m the one who asked Lucy to tie me up, remember? I brought it on myself. Don’t forget, I liked it! Well, most of it anyway.”
“Yeah, but we got pretty carried away.”
“If anyone got carried away, it was Lucy,” I told her. “She’s the one who kept adding penalty time. You stuck up for me, if I remember right. And you were so nice, you gave me water, fed me popcorn, and then fed breakfast to me the next morning. I’m so grateful you made it a much better experience. Really, don’t feel bad.”
“I feel so bad about that prank we played on you at the very end, where I was pretending to be asleep. You sounded so panicked. It was a terrible thing to do to you.”
I decided to go for it. Since she was feeling a little guilty, maybe she would be more receptive to what I was about to ask. I would never again have this opportunity if I didn’t say it now.
“Well, if you really want to make it up to me, there is one little thing you could do.”
“Please tell me. If I can do it, I will,” she replied.
“Give me your feet,” I blurted out.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“I want to give you a foot massage,” I said nervously. “If it’s OK with you.” Would she think I was crossing a line?
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “My feet are yours. I would love that!” She repositioned herself on the couch, and plopped her beautiful stockinged feet in my lap. There’s an expression about something ‘being greater than the sum of its parts.’ That’s how I feel about girls wearing opaque tights. When a girl has great legs and pretty feet, that’s a very good thing. A pair of tights is also a very good thing. But when a pretty girl with great legs and pretty feet is wearing the pair of tights, the effect on me has been multiplied a hundred-fold. I began to massage her cute little feet. Oh, her tights felt so wonderful! They were so smooth and soft, made of nylon and a little bit of spandex (I found out later). I AM MASSAGING AMY’S FEET WHILE SHE’S WEARING TIGHTS! I was almost lightheaded. How embarrassing would that be if I passed out from happiness right now?
“Rub a little harder. My feet won’t break!” she said while sipping her water. “Oh, that feels wonderful. You have magic fingers. I’m still getting the better part of the deal here. I was mean to you, and in return you offer to give me a foot rub. You’re too good to me.”
“You weren’t mean to me, and believe me, I’m enjoying this more than you are. I really like tights.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” she said. “How did it come about that Lucy forced you to wear tights last Friday? Had you told her earlier that you like to wear them? How long has she known?”
“I have a confession to make. Lucy didn’t force me to wear them. A couple days before, I asked her if I could borrow a pair of her tights and wear them when she tied me up. She bought me a new pair instead, since she didn’t want us sharing them. I don’t know why she told you that it was her idea. I guess she didn’t want me to seem weirder to you than I already did.”
“Had you worn tights before? Had you been secretly borrowing them from her sock drawer?” Amy asked with a smile.
“No,” I said. “Last weekend was the first and only time in my life I’ve ever worn tights. You must think I’m so strange.”
“Absolutely not! The tights you were wearing really suit you. You should wear them more often. You looked so cute when you were all tied up and helpless,” she said while putting her water glass down on the coffee table.
“Thanks, Amy,” I said as I continued to massage her toes, her arches, her heels, and ankles. I was in heaven. My hands eventually moved up her legs to massage her knees. She didn’t seem to mind. After a short time, I asked her to roll onto her stomach so I could massage her calves and behind her knees. Her tights made such a delightful sound as my hands moved up and down her legs.
“Forgive me if I fall asleep,” she said. “This is so relaxing. You’re going to regret this massage because I’ll probably start demanding one every day!”
“That would be fine with me,” I told her.
She didn’t say anything for a while, and I thought she maybe had fallen asleep. However, she had just been thinking.
“Remember last week when you said you should tie me up, and Lucy too, to get even with us for tying you up?” she asked.
“Oh, please don’t worry. I was kidding.”
“No,” she said in a very relaxed, almost sleepy voice. “I really think you should.”
“Should what?” I asked. Was I really hearing what I thought she just said?
“You really should tie us up. We so deserve it. I won’t be able to stop feeling guilty otherwise.”
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn, Chapter 2
I was too stunned to speak right away. How should I respond to this? I didn’t want to sound like an over-eager pervert, but I definitely was not going to turn down this suggestion!
“Amy, I would love to tie you up,” I replied (are we really having this conversation?), “but I don’t want you to feel like you need to be tied up because of guilt or because I need to get even.”
She rolled back onto her back, but kept her feet in my lap. “No, that’s only part of it. I really want to find out what it feels like. When Lucy and I finished tying you to the chair, I looked at you all helpless in all that rope, and I kind of wished I could change places with you.”
“When do you want to be tied up?”
“Is your mom going on another weekend trip any time soon?”
“She usually spends the last weekend of every month with her boyfriend, so it should be in about three weeks.”
“Good. Well, not so good. I wish it was a lot sooner. That’s when you will kidnap me. I can hardly wait! Oh, and Lucy too. She deserves this even more than I do.”
“Now, tying up Lucy will be a bit of a challenge. When I joked about it, she threatened me.”
“We’ll think of something. What time will your mom and Lucy get home today?”
“My mom would be getting home in about an hour, normally, but today she’s having dinner with her boss and a couple of coworkers. And Lucy’s dinner with the French club is starting about now.”
“Good,” Amy replied. “My parents are at my aunt and uncle’s house for dinner tonight, and my sister is having dinner at a friend’s house. That gives us some time to practice and do some planning.”
“Practice?”
“Practice tying me up,” she replied as if she were the most normal thing in the world. “When you kidnap me for real in three weeks, I need you to know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, sure! That’s a good idea,” I answered, trying to sound casual.
“And if you’re going to successfully tie up Lucy, you can’t be a novice at this. Now, where’s the bag full of rope?”
“I don’t know. Lucy kept it. It’s probably in her room.”
“Well, let’s go look,” she said as she leapt up and held out her hand. I grasped her hand and we went upstairs to Lucy’s room holding hands, acting like a couple of little kids going to a candy store. Amy was actually giddy with excitement!
When we got to Lucy’s room, I suddenly got nervous. “Lucy is going to kill me if she finds out we went looking through her stuff.”
“We’ll be careful and not mess anything up. She’ll never know,” Amy said confidently.
We went through her dresser drawers, looked under her bed, and Amy started looking in Lucy’s closet. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, holding up a plastic grocery bag filled with coils of rope. Lucy had carefully wrapped each section of rope neatly around itself so they wouldn’t tangle. Amy seemed genuinely happy to find the rope that would soon bind her.
She handed me a section of rope, and turned her back to me. “Give it your best shot, Mr. Kidnapper,” she said as she crossed her wrists behind her and waited. I was trying not to shake like a leaf as I proceeded to tie her wrists together.
She turned around and struggled for less than ten seconds. “Oh, Rusty. It’s a good thing we’re practicing. You’re going to have to do a lot better than that,” she said as the rope tumbled to the floor and she showed me her free hands. She bent down and picked up the rope and handed it to me.
“Try to think how Lucy tied your wrists. Think how secure it was. Don’t be afraid of hurting me. It has to be a lot tighter. I promise, if it hurts too much, I’ll tell you. OK, do it a little slower this time, and a lot tighter.” She turned around and put her hands behind her back again.
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn, Chapter 3
She again turned her back to me and crossed her wrists behind her. I thought about how Lucy had done it to me. I began again, slower this time, and with more concentration. I wound the rope neatly several times horizontally around both wrists, then vertically around both wrists, and then made a knot and pulled it tight.
“Oh,” she sighed. “That’s much better. You’re a quick learner. Do you have your phone with you?”
“It’s in my pocket. Why? Who do you want to call?”
“No, I want you to take pictures and videos of each step of the process, so that you can study later. We probably won’t get too many chances to practice before the big weekend. Besides, later I want to see how I look.”
“Oh, OK,” I said, pulling the phone out of my pocket. She was really encouraging me to take pictures and videos of our bondage practice?
I snapped a few pictures of her crossed and bound wrists. I also took a video and told her to try to pull her wrists free again. I couldn’t resist panning down her shapely legs to her feet. She must have seen me do this, because she said, “No use filming my feet, they’re not tied yet. Or do you want before and after comparison?”
“I decided to go the honesty route. “No, I just like your legs and feet a lot.”
“You little devil! Speaking of which,” she said as she sat on Lucy’s bed and extended her legs, “it’s time to see how well you tie my legs and feet. Remember, make it tight.”
This was by far the best day of my whole life. The pretty girl who I had a crush on was sitting on a bed with her hands tied behind her back, and she was wearing a skirt and opaque tights with no shoes, and asking me to tie her legs together. So many of my fantasies were coming true all at once, my head was swimming. I knelt in front of her and placed her stockinged feet together and rested them on one of my legs. I began tying her ankles together. I cinched the rope and was about to make a knot.
“Pull it a lot tighter before you make the knot. It has to be tight. Pull it slowly, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”
I pulled the ends of the rope, which cinched the rope around her ankles tighter and tighter. “Are you sure? This looks awfully tight.”
“A little bit more. I promise it’s not hurting me. OK, that’s good. Make the knot.”
I proceeded to tie another rope around her legs just above her knees. Again, she wanted it tight.
“Oh, yes,” she said, looking down at her legs while trying unsuccessfully to find any slack in the ropes. I took more photos and another video of her squirming legs. I put one hand under her knees and one hand behind her back and lifted her, and placed her so that she was lying on the bed. I rolled her onto her stomach, telling her that I wanted pictures of her wrists and the backs of her legs.
“OK, I’m going to make a video of you struggling. I want to see if the ropes and knots hold,” I told her. She started to squirm and to try to free herself.
She gave up after a few minutes. “I think you’ve mastered the art of tying up teenage girls, Mr. Russell Venton. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to escape unless someone rescues me.”
“Do you want me to untie you now?”
“Oh, gosh no! I haven’t completely given up trying to free myself yet. Besides, it’s kind of exciting.”
I rolled her onto her side, and then I climbed onto the bed and put my head down close to hers. Some of her hair was over her eyes and mouth, and it must have bothered her, because she was trying to blow the hair off her face. I gently pushed the hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. My fingers brushed against the soft skin of her cheek and her ear. Her hair felt so soft. I AM LYING IN BED WITH AMY WHILE SHE’S BOUND HAND AND FOOT AND I’M TOUCHING HER FACE AND HER HAIR!
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s strange being so helpless. I can’t even move my own hair without help!”
“Something has occurred to me,” I said. “I just tied up the daughter of a policeman.”
“Yes, you’re living pretty dangerously, Rusty,” she said with a giggle. “You could get into a lot of trouble over this!”
“I suddenly got a mental image of your dad barging in here with his gun drawn. Seeing me here, lying in bed with his tied-up daughter would not make him happy.”
“Oh, I think my dad would congratulate you on finding a way to keep me out of trouble!” she said, and we both laughed.
“How do you feel?” I asked her.
“It’s pretty strange. If I had been tied up this securely by a burglar or a kidnapper, I would be totally terrified right now. But I’ve been tied up by a friend, so I’m feeling the warm fuzzies. It’s exciting and relaxing at the same time.”
“I know what you mean, after my experiences last week. But I’m a guy, so I don’t call it the ‘warm fuzzies’.”
We both burst out laughing.
“I’m kind of sad that I’m so good at tying you up, because that means you won’t let me practice on you again.”
“Don’t get overconfident. If we get another chance before your mom’s weekend trip, I still want you to practice tying me up. You’ve got the technique down really well. Next, we need to work on your speed. If you want to tie up Lucy, you can’t expect her to stand still and let you do it.”
How I was hoping that my mom, Lucy, and Amy’s parents would all decide to go on a cruise together, leaving Amy and me alone for a week to practice my rope tying skills. Alas, not all of my fantasies would come true. But at least one more tie-up practice alone with Amy would be great.
“What were your plans for dinner?” she asked.
“Since I’m on my own for dinner, I was just going to heat up a frozen pizza.”
“Oh, can you share it with me? I’m on my own for dinner too, and I’m starving.”
“Absolutely. You’re ready to be untied now?”
“No,” she answered. “If you can take care of preheating the oven for us and putting in the pizza, I’ll just stay here and engage in futile attempts to free myself from my bonds,” she said, with a big smile.
“You sound so dramatic! I like your way with words.”
“I’m glad! Don’t forget to come back and keep me company while the pizza is cooking.”
“I won’t forget you, I promise,” I said, touching the tip of her nose with my finger. I went downstairs in a daze of happiness. Not only had I fulfilled my lifelong dream of giving Amy a foot and leg massage while she was wearing tights, but I had tied her up in the same day! I turned on the oven and ran back upstairs. When I entered Lucy’s bedroom, the sight of Amy nearly took my breath away. She was still lying on her side, with her back to me. I had a great view of her bound wrists. Her shapely legs were bent slightly, so that the soles of her stockinged feet were facing me. Her feet were small and perfectly shaped. Her hands and feet made tiny movements, not in a serious attempt to try to escape her bonds, but as if she were exploring the tightness of the rope. I grabbed a short piece of rope from the bag and proceed to tie it to her wrist rope.
“You’re back! What are you doing?”
I pulled the other end of the rope through her ankle rope, and started to pull the rope back toward her head. This was pulling her ankles closer and closer to her wrists.
“Oh!” she said in a tiny voice. “You’re not done tying me up yet, I see.”
“This is called a hog tie. It’s to prevent you from standing up and hopping around. I don’t want you to fall and get hurt when I have to leave you again to put the pizza in the oven after it preheats.”
When I had finished, she was still lying on her side, but now securely hogtied.
“Oh, this is very cool! Did you invent this?”
I laughed. “No, I’m afraid I can’t take credit for inventing the hog tie. Now that the oven has probably preheated, I’m going to go put the pizza in. Will you be OK like this for a few minutes?”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t forget to take some pictures of me hogtied. I’ll really want to see how I look.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, pulling out my phone. I took a few photos from different angles. “Let me get some videos of you trying to escape.”
“Escape? I’m reduced to being able to move my fingers and toes now, and that’s about it.”
“Excellent. Let’s see those wiggling toes and fingers.” After making a video, I put my phone away. “Try not to squirm too much. Falling off a bed while hogtied can’t be a very good experience.”
“Don’t worry. I’m staying put.”
“I’ll be right back,” I called from the door.
“I’ll be here,” she said, giving me a wink while looking at me over her shoulder.
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn, Chapter 4
I ran downstairs, eager to get back to my beautiful captive. I unwrapped the pizza, threw it on a pizza pan, threw it in the oven, and set the timer. I ran back upstairs. Again I was stunned at how amazing Amy looked, completely tied up and hogtied, lying on Lucy’s bed. She looked so pretty and delicate, I almost felt guilty about tying her up. I climbed onto the bed and lay down close to her, facing her.
“Almost ready to be untied? By the time I untie all this rope, dinner will be ready.”
“Not really. I’m feeling very content right now, which is the opposite of what a tied-up girl should be feeling. But I’m getting really hungry.”
“Don’t worry,” I told her, “you’ll get lots of time to enjoy these ropes when you become my captive for real in three weeks.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said as I began untying her legs. Once the hogtie rope, the ankle rope and the knee rope had all been removed, I massaged her ankles. “Are you sure the ropes weren’t too tight?”
“Oh no,” she answered contentedly. “They felt good. But, after dinner I will need a thorough leg massage. It’s the least you can do after being such a meanie and tying me up.”
“Yes, you certainly deserve a leg massage. It’s a tough job, but I’m willing to tackle it.”
She smiled. “Do a really good job massaging my legs and feet, and I promise not to tell my daddy that you tied up his precious little princess.”
“I would just tell him the truth. You asked me to tie you up.”
“Which of us will he believe? ‘Oh Daddy, I can’t believe it! I was at Lucy’s house waiting for her, and out of the blue her brother grabbed a bunch of rope and tied me up so tight I couldn’t move! I was so scared!’”, Amy said in a theatrical way, a devilish smile on her face. “You’ll be looking at life in prison, and that’s if he doesn’t shoot you first.”
“Wait, I thought you said he would approve of me tying you up, because it’s a way to keep you out of trouble!” I protested.
“Oh, that. I was lying so that you wouldn’t be nervous. No, he would shoot first and ask questions later. You had better pamper my legs and feet really well after dinner so that I’ll forget to tell my dad.”
“I’m being blackmailed, but somehow I don’t really mind,” I told her as I untied her wrists.
After she was completely free, I rubbed her wrists for a few seconds, then we wrapped each piece of rope around itself and put them all back in the bag. I replaced the bag in Lucy’s closet. Amy was standing up, stretching.
“Feeling OK?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t tied up very long.”
We were walking down the stairs just as the oven timer went off. I took out the pizza, threw a quick salad together, poured drinks, and we sat at the kitchen table to eat. I had no sooner taken my first bite, when I felt something land in my lap. I reached under the table, and found Amy had rested her stockinged feet in my lap and crossed her ankles.
“I hope you don’t mind if I put my feet up. It’s been a long day.”
“Not at all,” I said. I ate with one hand while rubbing her feet with my other hand.
“When ‘kidnap weekend’ arrives, tying me up will not be a problem. I’m a willing victim. But, we have to think of a way to tie up Lucy. She’s probably not going to volunteer,” Amy said.
“I’ll try the direct approach first. I’ll tell her I’m going to tie her up. Maybe she’s like you, and she wants to see what it’s like. She might just decide to let me,” I answered.
“Yeah, good luck with that. It could happen, but it’s not likely,” Amy said.
“Well, then I could make it more of a challenge. I could say, ‘Are you too chicken to let me tie you up? Don’t you think you could escape?’ Maybe she’ll dare me to tie her up then, just to prove that she’s not afraid.”
“It might work,” Amy conceded. “We’ll call that Plan B. We need a Plan C if the first two don’t work.”
Amy didn’t seem to like any of my suggestions.
“How about we use chloroform? That’s what they use in movies before they tie up someone,” I proposed.
“Yes,” she said. “Excellent idea. We’ll wander over to the chloroform factory after school on Monday and tell them we need a bottle for our tie-up games.”
“OK, I admit I didn’t think that through. What about sleeping pills? We can get those over-the-counter at any store, crush them up and put it in her drink.”
“I’m so glad you graduated from medical school so you can figure out how many pills would make her unconscious without putting her in a coma for the rest of her life.”
“I’m seeing a sarcastic side of you I’ve never seen before, Amy. I like it. OK, let’s forget chemicals. How about a blow to the back of her head? Or I put her in a choke-hold until she passes out?”
“Rusty, we don’t want to accidentally kill her!”
“Oh, that would be bad, I suppose.”
“I’m overwhelmed with the grief you’re showing over the potential demise of your only sister. No, we need something a lot simpler.”
Amy suggested a plan that just might work. A simple plan, that wouldn’t result in any bodily injury to any of us (I hoped). We finished dinner and she removed her feet from my lap. “Let me clean up,” she said, “and we can watch some TV.”
I loved watching her tinker around the kitchen in her skirt and tights. It was a lovely sight, those little stocking feet walking around, and standing on tip-toes to put plates away in the cabinet. When she was done, we went into the living room and sat on the couch. She again put her feet on my lap, and I eagerly resumed massaging her legs and feet. I would never get tired of the feel of her tights.
“Oh, I need to see the pictures and videos you took of me being tied up,” she suddenly said. I handed her my phone and she became engrossed in seeing herself bound in ropes. “This is so incredible! I was so tied up! You did a really good job on me. And I look good in rope, if I do say so myself.”
“Yes, you certainly do,” I answered. She handed my phone back to me, and we watched television for the next half-hour.
To be continued ...
Many thanks to [mention]Fordman[/mention] for saving this story from the old site.
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn
Characters:
Me, Rusty, age 14. Totally average guy, slightly nerdy.
Lucy, my sister, age 17. Blonde, petite, very cute. Can be rather bossy and rigid about rules, but overall very good to me. Described by many as “spunky”. Highly resembled a young Reese Witherspoon in the movie “Election”. Can be too much of a perfectionist (when I asked her to tie me up last week, she actually researched bondage techniques on the internet and practiced tying her own legs together multiple times to make sure she knew how tight to make the ropes so that they were inescapable yet not painful).
Amy, best friend of Lucy, age 16. Although not in the same grade as Lucy, Amy lived two houses away and the two had been friends since elementary school. Amy was also petite, very cute, gorgeous eyes and brown hair that just reached just below her shoulders. Whenever she smiled, she lit up the room. Our mom always referred to Amy as “cute as a button”. Because she lived so close, she came to our house often (which made me happy).
Autumn, Amy's younger sister. Autumn is the same age as me.
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn, Chapter 1
This story picks up the Friday following the events in the previous story. I had just arrived home from school about fifteen minutes prior, when there was a knock at the door. I opened the door, and Amy was standing there. I was always glad to see Amy. Would it be awkward now? Would she pretend last weekend hadn’t happened?
“Hi Rusty,” she said. “Hi Amy,” I replied. Were we back to the way we used to be, just saying hello and goodbye to each other? I had a crush on her more than ever, but I was realistic enough to know that I was probably back to just being the little brother of her best friend.
“Lucy isn’t home. She has that dinner tonight at the French restaurant with her French club.” I told her.
“Oh, I know,” she replied. “I’m here to talk to you.”
My eyes went wide and I hesitated out of nervousness.
“Can I come in?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, sorry, of course.” I held the door for her. She placed her backpack down in the entryway, and then slipped out of her shoes, leaving her shoes between her backpack and my shoes. She had done this every time she came to her house, and it always gave me a thrill. My mom had always had a rule that shoes must be removed when coming in the house, and I was so grateful for that rule every time Amy came over. She was wearing the school uniform, which consisted of a white long-sleeved blouse, blue blazer, a blue pleated skirt that ended just above a pair of cute knees, and navy-blue tights.
I looked down at her pretty stockinged feet as she unbuttoned the blazer, took it off, and hung it on the coat rack. My biggest weakness is the total obsession I have with girls’ tights. Going to a school with a strict dress code, I was surrounded by dozens of girls wearing skirts and tights every day. I’m sure my grades would have been even better if I weren’t constantly distracted by cute girls sitting at their desks, popping their heels in and out of their shoes as they took notes. Occasionally a girl would slip one or even both of her feet completely out of her shoes, wiggling her toes as she concentrated on her homework.
“Do you want something to drink?” I asked as she walked into the living room. “A glass of water would be great, thanks,” she said.
She sat on the couch and tucked one foot under her. I handed her the water. “You wanted to talk to me?” I asked as I sat next to her.
“Oh Rusty, I’m so sorry about what Lucy and I did to you last weekend. I’ve been thinking of it all week. I don’t even know what to say.”
“What? Amy, please don’t worry about it. I’m the one who asked Lucy to tie me up, remember? I brought it on myself. Don’t forget, I liked it! Well, most of it anyway.”
“Yeah, but we got pretty carried away.”
“If anyone got carried away, it was Lucy,” I told her. “She’s the one who kept adding penalty time. You stuck up for me, if I remember right. And you were so nice, you gave me water, fed me popcorn, and then fed breakfast to me the next morning. I’m so grateful you made it a much better experience. Really, don’t feel bad.”
“I feel so bad about that prank we played on you at the very end, where I was pretending to be asleep. You sounded so panicked. It was a terrible thing to do to you.”
I decided to go for it. Since she was feeling a little guilty, maybe she would be more receptive to what I was about to ask. I would never again have this opportunity if I didn’t say it now.
“Well, if you really want to make it up to me, there is one little thing you could do.”
“Please tell me. If I can do it, I will,” she replied.
“Give me your feet,” I blurted out.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“I want to give you a foot massage,” I said nervously. “If it’s OK with you.” Would she think I was crossing a line?
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “My feet are yours. I would love that!” She repositioned herself on the couch, and plopped her beautiful stockinged feet in my lap. There’s an expression about something ‘being greater than the sum of its parts.’ That’s how I feel about girls wearing opaque tights. When a girl has great legs and pretty feet, that’s a very good thing. A pair of tights is also a very good thing. But when a pretty girl with great legs and pretty feet is wearing the pair of tights, the effect on me has been multiplied a hundred-fold. I began to massage her cute little feet. Oh, her tights felt so wonderful! They were so smooth and soft, made of nylon and a little bit of spandex (I found out later). I AM MASSAGING AMY’S FEET WHILE SHE’S WEARING TIGHTS! I was almost lightheaded. How embarrassing would that be if I passed out from happiness right now?
“Rub a little harder. My feet won’t break!” she said while sipping her water. “Oh, that feels wonderful. You have magic fingers. I’m still getting the better part of the deal here. I was mean to you, and in return you offer to give me a foot rub. You’re too good to me.”
“You weren’t mean to me, and believe me, I’m enjoying this more than you are. I really like tights.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” she said. “How did it come about that Lucy forced you to wear tights last Friday? Had you told her earlier that you like to wear them? How long has she known?”
“I have a confession to make. Lucy didn’t force me to wear them. A couple days before, I asked her if I could borrow a pair of her tights and wear them when she tied me up. She bought me a new pair instead, since she didn’t want us sharing them. I don’t know why she told you that it was her idea. I guess she didn’t want me to seem weirder to you than I already did.”
“Had you worn tights before? Had you been secretly borrowing them from her sock drawer?” Amy asked with a smile.
“No,” I said. “Last weekend was the first and only time in my life I’ve ever worn tights. You must think I’m so strange.”
“Absolutely not! The tights you were wearing really suit you. You should wear them more often. You looked so cute when you were all tied up and helpless,” she said while putting her water glass down on the coffee table.
“Thanks, Amy,” I said as I continued to massage her toes, her arches, her heels, and ankles. I was in heaven. My hands eventually moved up her legs to massage her knees. She didn’t seem to mind. After a short time, I asked her to roll onto her stomach so I could massage her calves and behind her knees. Her tights made such a delightful sound as my hands moved up and down her legs.
“Forgive me if I fall asleep,” she said. “This is so relaxing. You’re going to regret this massage because I’ll probably start demanding one every day!”
“That would be fine with me,” I told her.
She didn’t say anything for a while, and I thought she maybe had fallen asleep. However, she had just been thinking.
“Remember last week when you said you should tie me up, and Lucy too, to get even with us for tying you up?” she asked.
“Oh, please don’t worry. I was kidding.”
“No,” she said in a very relaxed, almost sleepy voice. “I really think you should.”
“Should what?” I asked. Was I really hearing what I thought she just said?
“You really should tie us up. We so deserve it. I won’t be able to stop feeling guilty otherwise.”
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn, Chapter 2
I was too stunned to speak right away. How should I respond to this? I didn’t want to sound like an over-eager pervert, but I definitely was not going to turn down this suggestion!
“Amy, I would love to tie you up,” I replied (are we really having this conversation?), “but I don’t want you to feel like you need to be tied up because of guilt or because I need to get even.”
She rolled back onto her back, but kept her feet in my lap. “No, that’s only part of it. I really want to find out what it feels like. When Lucy and I finished tying you to the chair, I looked at you all helpless in all that rope, and I kind of wished I could change places with you.”
“When do you want to be tied up?”
“Is your mom going on another weekend trip any time soon?”
“She usually spends the last weekend of every month with her boyfriend, so it should be in about three weeks.”
“Good. Well, not so good. I wish it was a lot sooner. That’s when you will kidnap me. I can hardly wait! Oh, and Lucy too. She deserves this even more than I do.”
“Now, tying up Lucy will be a bit of a challenge. When I joked about it, she threatened me.”
“We’ll think of something. What time will your mom and Lucy get home today?”
“My mom would be getting home in about an hour, normally, but today she’s having dinner with her boss and a couple of coworkers. And Lucy’s dinner with the French club is starting about now.”
“Good,” Amy replied. “My parents are at my aunt and uncle’s house for dinner tonight, and my sister is having dinner at a friend’s house. That gives us some time to practice and do some planning.”
“Practice?”
“Practice tying me up,” she replied as if she were the most normal thing in the world. “When you kidnap me for real in three weeks, I need you to know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, sure! That’s a good idea,” I answered, trying to sound casual.
“And if you’re going to successfully tie up Lucy, you can’t be a novice at this. Now, where’s the bag full of rope?”
“I don’t know. Lucy kept it. It’s probably in her room.”
“Well, let’s go look,” she said as she leapt up and held out her hand. I grasped her hand and we went upstairs to Lucy’s room holding hands, acting like a couple of little kids going to a candy store. Amy was actually giddy with excitement!
When we got to Lucy’s room, I suddenly got nervous. “Lucy is going to kill me if she finds out we went looking through her stuff.”
“We’ll be careful and not mess anything up. She’ll never know,” Amy said confidently.
We went through her dresser drawers, looked under her bed, and Amy started looking in Lucy’s closet. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, holding up a plastic grocery bag filled with coils of rope. Lucy had carefully wrapped each section of rope neatly around itself so they wouldn’t tangle. Amy seemed genuinely happy to find the rope that would soon bind her.
She handed me a section of rope, and turned her back to me. “Give it your best shot, Mr. Kidnapper,” she said as she crossed her wrists behind her and waited. I was trying not to shake like a leaf as I proceeded to tie her wrists together.
She turned around and struggled for less than ten seconds. “Oh, Rusty. It’s a good thing we’re practicing. You’re going to have to do a lot better than that,” she said as the rope tumbled to the floor and she showed me her free hands. She bent down and picked up the rope and handed it to me.
“Try to think how Lucy tied your wrists. Think how secure it was. Don’t be afraid of hurting me. It has to be a lot tighter. I promise, if it hurts too much, I’ll tell you. OK, do it a little slower this time, and a lot tighter.” She turned around and put her hands behind her back again.
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn, Chapter 3
She again turned her back to me and crossed her wrists behind her. I thought about how Lucy had done it to me. I began again, slower this time, and with more concentration. I wound the rope neatly several times horizontally around both wrists, then vertically around both wrists, and then made a knot and pulled it tight.
“Oh,” she sighed. “That’s much better. You’re a quick learner. Do you have your phone with you?”
“It’s in my pocket. Why? Who do you want to call?”
“No, I want you to take pictures and videos of each step of the process, so that you can study later. We probably won’t get too many chances to practice before the big weekend. Besides, later I want to see how I look.”
“Oh, OK,” I said, pulling the phone out of my pocket. She was really encouraging me to take pictures and videos of our bondage practice?
I snapped a few pictures of her crossed and bound wrists. I also took a video and told her to try to pull her wrists free again. I couldn’t resist panning down her shapely legs to her feet. She must have seen me do this, because she said, “No use filming my feet, they’re not tied yet. Or do you want before and after comparison?”
“I decided to go the honesty route. “No, I just like your legs and feet a lot.”
“You little devil! Speaking of which,” she said as she sat on Lucy’s bed and extended her legs, “it’s time to see how well you tie my legs and feet. Remember, make it tight.”
This was by far the best day of my whole life. The pretty girl who I had a crush on was sitting on a bed with her hands tied behind her back, and she was wearing a skirt and opaque tights with no shoes, and asking me to tie her legs together. So many of my fantasies were coming true all at once, my head was swimming. I knelt in front of her and placed her stockinged feet together and rested them on one of my legs. I began tying her ankles together. I cinched the rope and was about to make a knot.
“Pull it a lot tighter before you make the knot. It has to be tight. Pull it slowly, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”
I pulled the ends of the rope, which cinched the rope around her ankles tighter and tighter. “Are you sure? This looks awfully tight.”
“A little bit more. I promise it’s not hurting me. OK, that’s good. Make the knot.”
I proceeded to tie another rope around her legs just above her knees. Again, she wanted it tight.
“Oh, yes,” she said, looking down at her legs while trying unsuccessfully to find any slack in the ropes. I took more photos and another video of her squirming legs. I put one hand under her knees and one hand behind her back and lifted her, and placed her so that she was lying on the bed. I rolled her onto her stomach, telling her that I wanted pictures of her wrists and the backs of her legs.
“OK, I’m going to make a video of you struggling. I want to see if the ropes and knots hold,” I told her. She started to squirm and to try to free herself.
She gave up after a few minutes. “I think you’ve mastered the art of tying up teenage girls, Mr. Russell Venton. I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to escape unless someone rescues me.”
“Do you want me to untie you now?”
“Oh, gosh no! I haven’t completely given up trying to free myself yet. Besides, it’s kind of exciting.”
I rolled her onto her side, and then I climbed onto the bed and put my head down close to hers. Some of her hair was over her eyes and mouth, and it must have bothered her, because she was trying to blow the hair off her face. I gently pushed the hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. My fingers brushed against the soft skin of her cheek and her ear. Her hair felt so soft. I AM LYING IN BED WITH AMY WHILE SHE’S BOUND HAND AND FOOT AND I’M TOUCHING HER FACE AND HER HAIR!
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s strange being so helpless. I can’t even move my own hair without help!”
“Something has occurred to me,” I said. “I just tied up the daughter of a policeman.”
“Yes, you’re living pretty dangerously, Rusty,” she said with a giggle. “You could get into a lot of trouble over this!”
“I suddenly got a mental image of your dad barging in here with his gun drawn. Seeing me here, lying in bed with his tied-up daughter would not make him happy.”
“Oh, I think my dad would congratulate you on finding a way to keep me out of trouble!” she said, and we both laughed.
“How do you feel?” I asked her.
“It’s pretty strange. If I had been tied up this securely by a burglar or a kidnapper, I would be totally terrified right now. But I’ve been tied up by a friend, so I’m feeling the warm fuzzies. It’s exciting and relaxing at the same time.”
“I know what you mean, after my experiences last week. But I’m a guy, so I don’t call it the ‘warm fuzzies’.”
We both burst out laughing.
“I’m kind of sad that I’m so good at tying you up, because that means you won’t let me practice on you again.”
“Don’t get overconfident. If we get another chance before your mom’s weekend trip, I still want you to practice tying me up. You’ve got the technique down really well. Next, we need to work on your speed. If you want to tie up Lucy, you can’t expect her to stand still and let you do it.”
How I was hoping that my mom, Lucy, and Amy’s parents would all decide to go on a cruise together, leaving Amy and me alone for a week to practice my rope tying skills. Alas, not all of my fantasies would come true. But at least one more tie-up practice alone with Amy would be great.
“What were your plans for dinner?” she asked.
“Since I’m on my own for dinner, I was just going to heat up a frozen pizza.”
“Oh, can you share it with me? I’m on my own for dinner too, and I’m starving.”
“Absolutely. You’re ready to be untied now?”
“No,” she answered. “If you can take care of preheating the oven for us and putting in the pizza, I’ll just stay here and engage in futile attempts to free myself from my bonds,” she said, with a big smile.
“You sound so dramatic! I like your way with words.”
“I’m glad! Don’t forget to come back and keep me company while the pizza is cooking.”
“I won’t forget you, I promise,” I said, touching the tip of her nose with my finger. I went downstairs in a daze of happiness. Not only had I fulfilled my lifelong dream of giving Amy a foot and leg massage while she was wearing tights, but I had tied her up in the same day! I turned on the oven and ran back upstairs. When I entered Lucy’s bedroom, the sight of Amy nearly took my breath away. She was still lying on her side, with her back to me. I had a great view of her bound wrists. Her shapely legs were bent slightly, so that the soles of her stockinged feet were facing me. Her feet were small and perfectly shaped. Her hands and feet made tiny movements, not in a serious attempt to try to escape her bonds, but as if she were exploring the tightness of the rope. I grabbed a short piece of rope from the bag and proceed to tie it to her wrist rope.
“You’re back! What are you doing?”
I pulled the other end of the rope through her ankle rope, and started to pull the rope back toward her head. This was pulling her ankles closer and closer to her wrists.
“Oh!” she said in a tiny voice. “You’re not done tying me up yet, I see.”
“This is called a hog tie. It’s to prevent you from standing up and hopping around. I don’t want you to fall and get hurt when I have to leave you again to put the pizza in the oven after it preheats.”
When I had finished, she was still lying on her side, but now securely hogtied.
“Oh, this is very cool! Did you invent this?”
I laughed. “No, I’m afraid I can’t take credit for inventing the hog tie. Now that the oven has probably preheated, I’m going to go put the pizza in. Will you be OK like this for a few minutes?”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t forget to take some pictures of me hogtied. I’ll really want to see how I look.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, pulling out my phone. I took a few photos from different angles. “Let me get some videos of you trying to escape.”
“Escape? I’m reduced to being able to move my fingers and toes now, and that’s about it.”
“Excellent. Let’s see those wiggling toes and fingers.” After making a video, I put my phone away. “Try not to squirm too much. Falling off a bed while hogtied can’t be a very good experience.”
“Don’t worry. I’m staying put.”
“I’ll be right back,” I called from the door.
“I’ll be here,” she said, giving me a wink while looking at me over her shoulder.
Amy, Lucy, Rusty, Autumn, Chapter 4
I ran downstairs, eager to get back to my beautiful captive. I unwrapped the pizza, threw it on a pizza pan, threw it in the oven, and set the timer. I ran back upstairs. Again I was stunned at how amazing Amy looked, completely tied up and hogtied, lying on Lucy’s bed. She looked so pretty and delicate, I almost felt guilty about tying her up. I climbed onto the bed and lay down close to her, facing her.
“Almost ready to be untied? By the time I untie all this rope, dinner will be ready.”
“Not really. I’m feeling very content right now, which is the opposite of what a tied-up girl should be feeling. But I’m getting really hungry.”
“Don’t worry,” I told her, “you’ll get lots of time to enjoy these ropes when you become my captive for real in three weeks.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she said as I began untying her legs. Once the hogtie rope, the ankle rope and the knee rope had all been removed, I massaged her ankles. “Are you sure the ropes weren’t too tight?”
“Oh no,” she answered contentedly. “They felt good. But, after dinner I will need a thorough leg massage. It’s the least you can do after being such a meanie and tying me up.”
“Yes, you certainly deserve a leg massage. It’s a tough job, but I’m willing to tackle it.”
She smiled. “Do a really good job massaging my legs and feet, and I promise not to tell my daddy that you tied up his precious little princess.”
“I would just tell him the truth. You asked me to tie you up.”
“Which of us will he believe? ‘Oh Daddy, I can’t believe it! I was at Lucy’s house waiting for her, and out of the blue her brother grabbed a bunch of rope and tied me up so tight I couldn’t move! I was so scared!’”, Amy said in a theatrical way, a devilish smile on her face. “You’ll be looking at life in prison, and that’s if he doesn’t shoot you first.”
“Wait, I thought you said he would approve of me tying you up, because it’s a way to keep you out of trouble!” I protested.
“Oh, that. I was lying so that you wouldn’t be nervous. No, he would shoot first and ask questions later. You had better pamper my legs and feet really well after dinner so that I’ll forget to tell my dad.”
“I’m being blackmailed, but somehow I don’t really mind,” I told her as I untied her wrists.
After she was completely free, I rubbed her wrists for a few seconds, then we wrapped each piece of rope around itself and put them all back in the bag. I replaced the bag in Lucy’s closet. Amy was standing up, stretching.
“Feeling OK?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t tied up very long.”
We were walking down the stairs just as the oven timer went off. I took out the pizza, threw a quick salad together, poured drinks, and we sat at the kitchen table to eat. I had no sooner taken my first bite, when I felt something land in my lap. I reached under the table, and found Amy had rested her stockinged feet in my lap and crossed her ankles.
“I hope you don’t mind if I put my feet up. It’s been a long day.”
“Not at all,” I said. I ate with one hand while rubbing her feet with my other hand.
“When ‘kidnap weekend’ arrives, tying me up will not be a problem. I’m a willing victim. But, we have to think of a way to tie up Lucy. She’s probably not going to volunteer,” Amy said.
“I’ll try the direct approach first. I’ll tell her I’m going to tie her up. Maybe she’s like you, and she wants to see what it’s like. She might just decide to let me,” I answered.
“Yeah, good luck with that. It could happen, but it’s not likely,” Amy said.
“Well, then I could make it more of a challenge. I could say, ‘Are you too chicken to let me tie you up? Don’t you think you could escape?’ Maybe she’ll dare me to tie her up then, just to prove that she’s not afraid.”
“It might work,” Amy conceded. “We’ll call that Plan B. We need a Plan C if the first two don’t work.”
Amy didn’t seem to like any of my suggestions.
“How about we use chloroform? That’s what they use in movies before they tie up someone,” I proposed.
“Yes,” she said. “Excellent idea. We’ll wander over to the chloroform factory after school on Monday and tell them we need a bottle for our tie-up games.”
“OK, I admit I didn’t think that through. What about sleeping pills? We can get those over-the-counter at any store, crush them up and put it in her drink.”
“I’m so glad you graduated from medical school so you can figure out how many pills would make her unconscious without putting her in a coma for the rest of her life.”
“I’m seeing a sarcastic side of you I’ve never seen before, Amy. I like it. OK, let’s forget chemicals. How about a blow to the back of her head? Or I put her in a choke-hold until she passes out?”
“Rusty, we don’t want to accidentally kill her!”
“Oh, that would be bad, I suppose.”
“I’m overwhelmed with the grief you’re showing over the potential demise of your only sister. No, we need something a lot simpler.”
Amy suggested a plan that just might work. A simple plan, that wouldn’t result in any bodily injury to any of us (I hoped). We finished dinner and she removed her feet from my lap. “Let me clean up,” she said, “and we can watch some TV.”
I loved watching her tinker around the kitchen in her skirt and tights. It was a lovely sight, those little stocking feet walking around, and standing on tip-toes to put plates away in the cabinet. When she was done, we went into the living room and sat on the couch. She again put her feet on my lap, and I eagerly resumed massaging her legs and feet. I would never get tired of the feel of her tights.
“Oh, I need to see the pictures and videos you took of me being tied up,” she suddenly said. I handed her my phone and she became engrossed in seeing herself bound in ropes. “This is so incredible! I was so tied up! You did a really good job on me. And I look good in rope, if I do say so myself.”
“Yes, you certainly do,” I answered. She handed my phone back to me, and we watched television for the next half-hour.
To be continued ...