Wished for Mom, Sis and Cousins (m-solo, f/m, F/m, Ff/m, m/m, m/f, FFf/m, Ff+/m)

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Wished for Mom, Sis and Cousins (m-solo, f/m, F/m, Ff/m, m/m, m/f, FFf/m, Ff+/m)

Post by tiedinbluetights »

Story catalog description: Wished for Mom, Sis and Cousins (Ff/m ...)

Wished for Mom, Sis and Cousins


Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Seb, short for Sebastian (not my real name, and I won't use real names below for privacy reasons). Ever since I can remember, since at least the tender age of 4 or 5, I was into TUGs. More specifically, I was into girls tying up boys, and as I grew older, into women tying up men. As a preteen, I would mostly play TUGs with my cousins, and occasional neighbourhood kids; games like cops and robbers, or girls v. boys and boys v. girls. However, such games only happened during summer vacations and rarely, if ever, during the school year. I would, nevertheless, find occasions to do some selfbondage whenever I got the chance to be alone at home. I just enjoyed the feeling of ropes tied around me, holding me immobile while I imagined what it would be like to be tickled and unable to escape those tickles. For some reason, I also liked the smell of women's feet (girls' feet around my age at the time), and the feel of tights against my skin. I have no particular recollection of a first time I discovered those predilections, but they have been with me a long, long time.

The story that follows is based on memories of mine, when I was only 11 years old, and my mother nearly caught me in self-bondage. The real life events obviously transpired differently, as had I been discovered by my mom in my self-bound state, there would have been hell to pay. I was lucky and managed to fully unbind myself before I got discovered, but it was a close call. What follows, is how I wish events would have truly transpired, had I been discovered in my self-bound state.

Part 1---Discovered

One particular Saturday, when I was 11 years old, I was left alone at home while my mother drove my 8 year old sister, Margaret, to her ballet lessons. My dad was working out of town and would not be back for another two weeks, and my mom would usually stay with my sister for the duration of my sister's ballet lessons, which usually lasted the entire afternoon. My parents trusted me with being left home alone as I was a good dependable little boy who always did his chores, was able to cook for himself, and never answered the door when he was home alone. I even had emergency numbers on quick-dial in case something happened. My mom and sister had left after a short lunch and were not expected back till supper time, so I jumped on the opportunity to have some selfbondage fun!

Now, between the ages of 10 to 12, I happened to be able to fit into my mom's tights. However, my sister's tights, beige or pink ballet tights mostly as she was taking ballet lessons, were too small for me; plus, Margaret's footed tights smelled bad after her ballet practices. My mom's worn tights didn't stink as much, so on this particular Saturday I headed down to the basement where our laundry room was and looked through the hamper in order to find a pair of my mom's tights to wear. Unfortunately, all I could find was a pair of my sister's beige ballet tights that reeked of her foot odour, not at all pleasant, despite my earlier admission above to liking the foot odour of girls around my age. Nevertheless, I still grabbed them as a thought came to my mind for an interesting self-torment predicament while I was self-tied. Through the basement, I headed into our enclosed garage and gathered half a dozen lengths of yellow nylon rope my dad kept for whatever reasons. These were strong with little give, but my cousins and I have used them often in our summer time TUGs.

Determined to still wear tights while self-bound, I headed back up into the kitchen and then upstairs to the bedrooms, but first grabbing a roll of grey duct-tape from the knickknack drawer in the kitchen for the self-torment I had in mind. Once upstairs, I go through my mom's dresser, and find a pair of smooth silky black tights. I bring all the stuff I picked up to my private bedroom and close the door (we had no locks on our bedroom doors). I proceed to fully undress, and I then slip on my mom's black tights. They felt so smooth and silky along my legs! With much anticipation, I quickly lie down on my bed, over the bed-sheets, and proceed to tie my legs together with some of the yellow rope, at the ankles, and both above and below the knees.

I admire for a little while my rope-work; not bad for an 11 year old. I wiggle my legs to test the binds, and they hold fast. I like the contrast of the yellow rope against the smooth blackness of the tights. Wanting to be a bit more immobilized, I use another length of rope to now tie my bound ankles to the vertical bars of my bed's foot-board. My bed was a single-sized bed with an identical head-board, but sadly, at the age of 11, I hadn't yet figured out how to also self-tie my hands (my cousins doing it for me during our TUGs). Now, before I go on, at this point it is important to highlight that with my cousins, during our TUGs, we were always in our normal clothes. I would never have dared, as a boy, in the 1970s, to wear tights during TUGs with other kids. Wearing my mom's tights was something I only did during selfbondage sessions!

So, with my legs secured to each other and to the foot of my bed, I proceed to wrap several turns of the duct-tape around my head. No stuffing; I wasn't into that or even considered it yet at that time. However, I was into being forced to smell stinky feet! I now lie back down and stretch my arms upwards towards the head-board's vertical bars. I can barely reach them, given the length of rope I allowed between my ankle bind and the foot-board. Ready for the self-torment I had in mind, I grab my sister's tights and wrap them a few times around my tap-gagged mouth to finally feed the stinky footed part through the loops and firmly pressed against my nostrils. I now quickly lie back down on my back, grabbing hold of the head-board's vertical bars, stretching myself out to do so.

I pretend that my hands are firmly tied to the head-board and start to squirm pretending that it is my own sister who has put me into this predicament. The stench of my sister's tights is nearly intolerable; nothing like the sweeter smell of my cousin Miranda's feet on those few "smell my feet" pranks during summer-time girls v. boys TUGs. As a pretend struggle against the ropes, I imagine that my sister has done this to me to "air out" her ballet tights, while she is practising her lessons in a cleaner pair. I imagine my sister, there in my room, occasionally tickling my feet clad in tights, to "accelerate" my breathing and the "airing out" process. I imagine her taunting me, that when she is done practising, she will followup by using my nose to air out her ballet shoes and her current tights as well, with several hours of inescapable tickle torture to "look forward to!"

I get caught up in my imagined and self-imposed torment, not noticing that the front door was being unlocked. It's only when I hear my mom loudly call out my name "Sebby!" as she is already climbing the stairs that I snap out of my daydream. It's only been 10 minutes since I've started my tie-up; 40 minutes since she left with my sister Margaret; this is too early! I quickly let go of the head-board and sit up, but it's too late to do anything more, as my mom opens the door to my room.

"Sebby!" she exclaims even louder. I am beet-red and my heart is pounding, so ashamed of having been discovered like this. I must look so stupid to my mom, wearing her tights, with my sister's beige ballet tights wrapped around my head (the feet no longer pressed against my nostrils, but hanging down below my cheeks, on each side of my face, like droopy rabbit ears). I suspect I'm about to be severely scolded and grounded for life, never to be trusted to be home alone ever again.

However, my mom just stands there silently in the door frame for a few seconds, taking in my pathetic sight. I dare look up at her, tears welling in my eyes, expecting a stern disapproving look, but I see her with her signature good-nature smirk she usually gives me when I invent preposterous tales in an attempt to explain away some mishap. She slowly walks up to my bed and sits down next to me, and hugs me in her arms.

"No need to cry or feel ashamed my dear little Sebby," she whispers into my ear. "At least I now understand why some of my tights get stretched out of shape so quickly," she continues. "And those must be your sister's tights from last week's practice, boy they still smell, let me take those off you." She does so and tosses them towards the open door of my room. "I'm beginning to understand why the hamper appears riffled on occasion too," she remarks. Finally, she asks "did you stuff your mouth?" I shake my head no.

She stands up, and now with a sterner look and commanding tone (but still a slight smirk breaking through) states "I'm going to need some more explanations, however, my boy!" My eyes start tearing up again and I look down and away, but she grabs my head with both her hands and turns my head back up to face her.

"LOOK AT ME SEBASTIAN! Understand my dear Sebby that you are my son, my only son, and I adore you, and will always adore you; I'm not angry with you; but I am disappointed and now worried sick; you must not be so foolish as to tie yourself up and especially gag yourself; never when you are alone, do you understand!" I nod yes, tears rolling down my checks as I try to avert her gaze to no avail.

"I don't think you do my dear, sweet, boy. There is no phone in your room; that could have been a burglar breaking into the house for all you know. When I unlocked the door and didn't hear the slightest peep from you, I feared you had fallen and hurt yourself. I regret ever leaving you alone; I'm going to have to hire one of your older cousins now as a babysitter; and my goodness, thank the heavens you were not so stupid as to stuff that gag of yours! Even so, alone it is a choking hazard! Stuffed or not!"

I no longer try to avert my mom's gaze. Instead I now willingly look at my mom, and wipe my tears away with my free hands. "My poor Seb, in my anger--not at you, but at myself--I've forgotten to remove your gag!" She goes to remove my gag, but stops herself, and looks at me again, her hands moving to pat my head instead. "You enjoy being gagged don't you?" I nod yes.

"I still have some questions, but you obviously enjoy this little fantasy predicament you've created for yourself, so let me give you a choice. Here are your two choices: 1) nod once if you want me to remove your tap-gag so you can answer my questions freely, or 2) nod twice if you would like me to keep you tap-gagged--I'd ask you simple yes/no questions so you can easily answer my questions, now that I'm a tiny bit reassured that there is no stuffing in there and I can monitor you closely."

I couldn't believe my ears, and it must have shown in my eyes as they must have become wider than my face, but I very carefully nodded twice, to make sure she understood I wanted to remain gagged. This was beyond my dreams! Never ever in all the past summer vacations did my mom, dad, aunts and uncles ever want to participate with my cousins in our TUGs. They would monitor us, put time limits and constantly remind us to mostly play other things. Our parents were probably secretly hoping we would outgrow our TUGs, and figured that better allow us supervised TUGs than make it taboo when we might try to play TUGs anyway, but dangerously unsupervised. Whatever changed my mother's stance to now actively play along with me in a TUG, it was a dream come true!

She smiled a loving motherly smile and said, "before I ask my yes/no questions, allow me to explain why I'm home early; I realized that I spend every Saturday afternoon exclusively with your sister, and never with you." Looking at her watch she adds "After I dropped Margaret off for her lessons, I figured I could get home and spend a couple of hours with you, getting to understand you better, what hobbies you enjoy in life, what makes you happy, before having to go back to pick your sister up from her ballet lessons. After all, your older cousin Janice, she just turned 21 by the way, Janice, is there with her too."

I was smiling behind my tap-gag, literally beaming. My mom was willing to spend more time with me; I honestly thought she preferred my sister over me, but apparently that was not the case. Her openness to learn about my interests was refreshing. She had offered in the past to drag me along with my sister to those ballet lessons, but I wasn't really interested in any form of dance, let alone ballet. While I enjoyed looking at the form of female ballet dancers during televised productions, it would have been entirely another matter and utterly terrifying for me to be at an actual dance studio, watching the other girls prance about in their leotards and tights during practice, while pretending not to look at them, for fear of being called out a pervert for leering, or worse, for fear of being pressured to join and learn ballet myself!

My mom went on, "Now, imagine my surprise--even though I had some suspicions--to find you like this; I certainly learned a lot about you in the last few minutes, especially about one particular hobby of yours, but I still need more answers and some reassurances. So, here are the rules for our little yes/no game: slowly shake you head from side to side for a 'no' and slowly nod up and down for a 'yes', do you understand?" I nod yes.

"Good, that was a test and you passed it. Now, reflect seriously about this next question before you answer, and you must answer truthfully. Do you hereby solemnly promise to me to never tie yourself up again unsupervised?" I think seriously about her question, for a few minutes in fact, and I can see a concerned frown form on my mom's forehead. She adds "to be clear, I'm not asking you to promise that you will never be tied-up or that you will never tie yourself up; all I'm saying is that there must always be someone monitoring you that both you and I can trust with your well-being." I take one more minute and slowly nod my head yes.

"Good! That was another test, and I can see and sense that you are being sincere. Had you answered 'no,' I would have untied you and ungagged you, and you would have been grounded; plus we would have had to have a family meeting with your dad and all your aunts and uncles as well to figure out how to safely put a stop to your tie-up games." A mounting dread crept through my mind, as to just how embarrassing such a meeting would have been. "Don't worry my dear Sebby, that is no longer necessary me thinks; I think we can slowly and carefully figure out something between the two of us that will allow you to continue to enjoy this hobby of yours, at least until you are old enough to have finally outgrown it, or found a special someone to play with, hey?" I blush and she adds while petting my head "don't worry dear son, I want you to enjoy life, have fun, while staying safe. I'm not going to judge you for your life choices."

She then sighed a little to herself, and looked at her watch, and said "we still have just about 90 minutes before we will go pick-up your sister; yes I'm bringing you with me, and no arguments or you will be grounded and it's back to the family meeting I mentioned!" For the first time I try to say something through the gag and it comes out sounding "mmoohhrrkkaayy" as I nod yes.

My mother let out a little giggle at that and said "my apologies Seb, that wasn't quite a yes/no question, but I understand from your response that you agree, which is good; not that I was giving you a choice in the matter; you are coming along, but doing so unwillingly would have landed you in serious trouble with your father and myself. So let's continue our little yes/no game. Do you want to answer the remaining of my questions tied up more securely?"

Had I not remained gagged, my jaw would have probably dropped right off my face! The last 30 minutes went from being mortified to being hopeful that I wouldn't have to hide my love of TUGs from my mom for fear of admonishment. I emphatically nod my head yes!

"Lie down on your back," she said. With the two remaining lengths of rope I had brought up, my mom proceeded to tie my hands apart one to each of one vertical bar in the head-board as far apart from each other as I possibly could stretch. She then proceeded to check my binds around the knees and at the ankles. "Your ankle and above the knee binds are just fine; that's good, but your below the knee bind is a bit too tight, I'll loosen it so it's just right." She proceeds to do so, and I start wondering how my mom knows so much about knots and tying people and how to make it safe yet tight enough and secure.

"There, that ought to be inescapable, at least for an 11 year old boy wearing his mom's tights!" I blush again as she faces me, and sits back down on the bed next to me, ready to ask her next question. "So, Sebby, let me be clear for this next question, that I do not presume whether you prefer the company of boys or girls, whether you understand what I mean or will eventually figure it as you get older and puberty kicks in for you; you do not have to worry about me thinking that you want to become a girl for wearing tights--men used to wear tights in the past you know--or whatever else you might think would make me judge you; I do not consider you a pervert for any of this; you are still my sweet little darling boy, no matter what, and I will support you, whatever you grow up to become; so with all that stated and clear, would you like me to get you your own pairs of tights so you can stop sneaking mine in and out of my dresser or the hamper?" I think just a few seconds and nod yes.

"Okay, we can go shopping together for some tights for you next week while Margaret is at her ballet lessons." I blushed again, and my mom adds "don't be so embarrassed; we will pretend it's not for you but for your sister, and pretend she is about the same size as you but can't be with us as she is at her ballet lessons. And don't worry about dad or any of your aunts or uncles finding out, it will be our little secret, just between us." With a little smirk on her face, mom emphasized both the last "our" and the last "us", which made me think she was making the point that this would become a mother-son secret. I was, in just over an hour, about to discover just how wrong I was about who "us" were.

(To be continued ... )
Last edited by tiedinbluetights 4 months ago, edited 16 times in total.
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Post by Blackfox74077 »

cant wait to see more games his mom comes up with
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Blackfox74077 wrote: ↑1 year ago cant wait to see more games his mom comes up with
Thanks for the comment [mention]Blackfox74077[/mention].

For everyone, I've updated the title and gender tags to reflect more accurately where the story is going and what some characters recount to each other. Part 2 coming soon ...
πŸ’™ Love to be tied-up πŸ’™
I read and write stories for fun
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(I don't do roleplays nor story requests)
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Part 2---Interrogation Continued

Now that it was settled that my mother and I would shop next week for some tights for me, so I can stop wearing hers, she continued the yes/no questioning game with me by first saying "I think we'll get you two or three pairs, in colours you like, plus I'll let you keep the ones you have on now; I'll buy a replacement pair for myself. Given when my own brothers had their growth spurts, I suspect they'll last you at least a couple of years. Now then, I notice you are shirtless, but when you play with your cousins over the summer, you are always in t-shirts; do you prefer to be shirtless when tied?" I shake my head no.

"Hmmm? But you obviously took off your shirt on purpose before you tied yourself up; so does that mean you'd prefer to wear something else on top, say something made of the same fabric as the tights, like a leotard?" Here, I neither shake my head no, nor do I nod my head yes; I simply try to shrug my shoulders as best as I can, given my stretched out position.

"Now, don't lie to me Sebby! A few weeks ago Margaret complained to me that one of her dance leotards, a black one, had gotten stretched out of shape. Did you put in on?" I blush and slowly nod yes.

"Good, that's settled then, we'll get you a couple of leotards in your size too, along with the tights; this way you can leave your sister's alone. You obviously enjoy wearing stretchy skin-tight clothes as much as you like being tied-up, no point in denying either Sebby! I've observed you with your cousins this past summer. You disproportionately end up being tied-up way more often and for far longer than you tie others up; I guess it would be just embarrassing for you to admit to your cousins that you'd like to be tied-up in leotard and tights?" I keep blushing, but nod yes.

"Oh, my dear sweet Sebby, don't worry, I won't tell them; this will be our little secret, for now at least, so long as you keep to the solemn promise you made." There was that emphasis to "our" again, which I kept interpreting as meaning a little mother-son secret.

"Now, we've established that you like, dare I say love, being tied-up, but do you like tying others up?" I shake my head no.

"But I've seen you tie up your younger cousins, Mike and Miranda especially, during your adult supervised TUGs over the summer; is it because they asked you to?" I try to indicate both "yes" and "no" by turning my head in a circle and mumble through my gag "nnnought kweeet."

My mom giggled again and said "sorry Sebby, didn't realize it wouldn't be a simple yes/no answer; but I can guess from your response and the way your summer games played-out that you tied them up in exchange for them eventually tying you up; is that so?" I nod yes.

"Good, were you disappointed or upset whenever they didn't tie you up after their turn?" Again, I nod yes.

"Okay, now, I've also noticed that you've let yourself be tied-up by Miri more often than by Mike, and even though Miri's ties were not as effective as Mike's, you deliberately allowed yourself to stay tied up by Miri longer than by Mike. Also, Janice--I mentioned her earlier, she's an accomplished ballerina by now you know, and one of the assistants to your sister's main instructor at the school, she's at the dance school right now with your sister, but I digress--well Janice used to babysit you, being 10 years older than you, and she once told me that you asked her to tie you up and tickle you! I don't doubt her story, as it is plainly obvious to me from what I see right here, right now. I've been going on and on; hope you don't mind dear Sebby! So here is my next question: Do you prefer to be tied up by girls more so than by boys?"

I am beet-red again, blushing, but I slowly nod yes. My mom, through-out this questioning, aside for a couple of very short glimpses at her watch, has never stopped staring into my eyes and observing, what I could only presume was my breathing rate.

"And do you enjoy being tickled?" I nod yes.

"More so if you are tied-up?" I emphatically nod yes!

"And more so by girls rather than boys?" Again, I nod yes emphatically.

"But you'd settle for being tied-up by boy cousins and tickled by them if no girl cousins would want to or be around to do so?" I do nod yes again, but without any emphasis, hoping to convey a clear preference.

"Have you ever let a person I do not know tie you up?" I emphatically shake my head no.

"Good!, that reassures me significantly, and I can sense you are conveying me the truth." She quickly glances at her watch and says, "okay, we still have just over 40 minutes before we go pick up your sister; you have been a very good boy, answering all my questions truthfully, despite your occasional embarrassment at just how much we already knew."

Now, I'm starting to doubt that "we" and "our" and "us" is just my mom and I. However, before I can think long enough to start figuring it out, my mom looks at me with her unique special smile when she wants to communicate just how much she cares about my sister and me, and says gently "I think you deserve a reward for playing along with my yes/no game; would you like me to tickle you?"

Again, my eyes go wide, not in terror, but in delight! I very emphatically nod yes! This is a dream of mine come true. My father and mother have many a times given me a playful ticklish poke when I was teasing them with my water gun in our backyard garden on hot summer days, but it was always too easy to escape, too easy for my body to override my will and move away. Being unable to move away from the tickles is what I always wanted, but my cousins never really indulged this predilection of mine, at least never for more than just a couple of seconds. If I understood my mom correctly, I may get tickled for several minutes, at most till we had to pick up my sister!

"My, my, don't be so impatient. Now just a couple of simple rules. First, I'm going to always look at your face, so if you want me to stop at any point, I want you to just close your eyes and keep them shut for at least one-Mississippi. That will tell me to stop, and I also can decide to stop even if you'd want me to continue. Second, I want you to try as much as possible to not trash about much, try to stay as immobile as you can. If you trash too much, it could cause your current binds to over-tighten. That's it. Ready?"

Sitting by my left side on my bed, with me stretch-out, arms apart on either side of my head, hands tied to the head-board, legs pinned together and anchored to the foot-board, my mom monitoring closely my eyes and my breathing, starts to tickle both my arm-pits. Trying not to move, I arch my back, but force my eyes to stay open and stare back at my mom. My breathing through my nose accelerates just as I imagined it would when I fantasized about my cousins and my sister doing this to me. My body desperately tries to escape the arm pit tickles, but my mom had tied my hands quite effectively; I start to squirm side to side.

"Ah ... ah ... ah! Remember not to trash about, try to be still my ticklish little Sebby! Do you want me to stop?" I shake my head no, a few times. Nevertheless, after about a minute, she stops, and asks "would you like me to find other ticklish spots?" With my breath slowly returning to my normal rate, I nod yes.

My mom now stands up, bends over me a bit and slowly starts to tickle my stomach, in and around my belly button and the sides along my ribs, but avoids my arm-pits. All I do is giggle though my gag once in a will, and shift a tiny bit from time to time. My breathing remains normal. This also last for just about a minute and my mom finally says "okay, not very ticklish around these areas; perhaps that will change with a shiny leotard, but will have to wait at least till next week to find out about that. Shall we continue to find other spots?" I nod yes again.

She now places her hands on the outer sides of my hose-clad thighs and slowly moves them down towards my knees. The feeling of her touch through the tights sends little ticklish shivers up my spine, and as she reaches my knees, never loosing sight of my face, she starts to tickle the top of my knees. My breathing picks up a bit this time, and my back arches a little, but not as much as when she tickled my arm pits. However, by both arching my back and having my knees shift together side to side a bit to try and escape her fingers, I occasionally also lift my knees a bit off the bed. That gave my mom enough room to shift her tickles to the back of my knees. My breathing instantly accelerates to a much higher rate than with my arm-pits being tickled, and I just cannot prevent myself from trashing about, shaking the entire bed. My mom stops immediately. That was barely a couple of seconds under the knees! She allows me a whole minute to catch my breath before saying "okay, that was very ticklish for you; do you want me to completely stop tickling you?" I shake my head no.

"My, my, you do enjoy to be tickle tortured don't you?" I vigorously nod yes. "Shall I try to tickle you under your knees again?" I nod yes. "Very well, please lift your knees up a bit for me, but try real hard not to trash about." My knees stay firmly pressed against my bed. "I see, you want me to 'force' you to lift your knees again don't you?" I nod yes, and once more my mom tickles the tops of my knees, and as my breathing increases again and my back arches again, she manages to get enough room to dig her fingers into the back of my knees. Once more, my breathing becomes very rapid and my futile attempts to move my knees away gives my mom enough room to really dig in under my knees. However this time, I manage to count up to 10-Mississippi's before I start to trash uncontrollably, yet always keeping my eyes open.

My mom stops her tickles as soon as I start to trash about, "you barely even blinked; I'm sure you'd have wanted me to continue tickling under your knees, but time is running out, and I still want to ask you a few more questions before we go pick up your sister. So, I have time for one more ticklish spot to find; do you want me to find it?" I nod yes.

She walks over to the foot-board of my bed from where she can now reach both the soles and the tops of my feet, and slowly tickles both. She notices that I twitch and squirm more when she tickles my soles, so she intensifies the tickles there, never averting her gaze from my face and breathing rate. My feet flop about away from each other and side to side, but I try not to blink, nor close my eyes. My breathing rate is faster than usual, but not as fast as with my arm-pits. Nevertheless, she stops, and says "let me show you a little trick." She then proceeds to untie the yellow rope just below my knees and says "don't worry, we still have time before I need to untie you; we just have no more rope up here, so I need to use this one for what I want to show you."

My mom then proceeds to tie my feet together furthermore, by wrapping a couple of loops around my feet midway between the heels and the toes, and then cinches the loops tight between my feet. My feet can no longer separate from each other and can only sway side to side as one. However, with the remaining loose ends she just has enough length left to pull my feet even closer towards the foot-board and anchor them to the board's central vertical bar. This causes me to be stretched out even more, and for the toes of my feet to almost come in contact with the foot-board's bars. As she does this, my own tethering of my ankle bind to the foot-board loosens and bit. "Let me tighten this up for you too," she says with a mischievous smirk. My feet can still sway as one from side to side but just barely and no where near as much as they did before. "Ready?" I nod yes.

She starts to tickle my feet again, both tops and soles, and this time my breathing really accelerates up to nearly the same rate as when the back of my knees were tickled. However, this time, due to the extra stretch, I cannot arch my back as much as before! And due to that extra stretch, my trashing is also reduced significantly. Yet, I proudly keep my eyes open. My mom asks with a smirk "shall I stop?" I defiantly shake my head no!

"As you wish, Sebby!" and she now really intensifies her tickles while focusing them right at the middle of the arches of my soles. She found my most ticklish spot! My entire bed and body start to shake uncontrollably, as I start to giggle maniacally through my gag and breath so hard that my tap-gag, despite its several loops, is now starting to completely become unstuck, allowing me to breath through my mouth too. My mom stops the tickles, and completely unties the tie she made, allowing me to flop my feet apart a few times. "So, what do you think, Sebby?"

"THAT WAS SO AMAZING MOM!" I blurt out. "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!"

"Calm down Sebby! I promised you that I was not going to punish for tying yourself up even though I, and your aunts and uncles, have repeatedly told you and your cousins in the past to never play tie-up games unsupervised, but that doesn't mean you're fully out of trouble, or that I will now start playing tie-up and tickle torture games with you whenever it strikes your fancy. Nevertheless, it is important that you understand just how deeply and truly I care about you and your well being, that you can trust me, and I would have helped you find a way to play such games more safely, if that is what you clearly really need. Instead, I had to find out by accidentally walking in on you, and also by piecing together stories from Janice, Miranda, and even your sister Margaret, along with the intermittent occasions when a pair of my tights gets mysteriously displaced. You were not as good at hiding all this from us as you thought."

As my mom says all this, she also walks back up to the left side of my bed and sits down next to me, fully removes my now only partially sticky and very wet tap gag, and then pats and caresses my forehead and cheeks. It is her eyes that are now welling up with tears, but she does not look away from me. I wish I could hug her, while saying I'm sorry, but all I can do is just say "I'm sorry mom, really, really, sorry! I already promised you today that I will never tie myself up again unsupervised. I didn't mean to make you sad."

"You'll still have to promise me a few more things before the night is over, before I'm fully content," she says as she wipes away her tears. She glances at her watch and adds "I still have a few questions for you, and just a little more than 15 minutes before we need to go pick up Margaret. Do you want me to undo the rest of your binds, or are you comfortable enough to remain tied-up a bit more?"

Had I been fully honest with my mom at that moment, I would have admitted to her at this point that my arms were starting to hurt a bit, stretch above and to either side of head to the head-board. But I want to stay tied up, up to the very last minute. Plus, my legs felt surprisingly relaxed in the tights, despite still being tied together just above the knees and at the ankles, tethered even more tightly than I had managed to the foot-board. After my first real and truly inescapable tickle torture, I felt giddy, and the remaining binds felt even more reassuring than ever before. So I answered, "please let me stay tied up until we must go to pick up Margo."

"Okay. Now, Janice told me other things. She caught you once sniffing her ballet shoes, one night when she was babysitting you. You thought you were sneaky, but you weren't. Plus, there was that time I already mentioned where you had asked her to tie you up and tickle you. Janice mentioned you also asked her then to "force" you to smell her feet. She refused, but she told her mom and me about it. Even your younger cousin Miranda has told her mom, who told me, that you've asked her several times to make you smell her feet when she had you tied up during the summer." My mom quickly glances off to my sister's tights by the door, and adds "yet, you've apparently never asked to smell Mike's feet or any of your other male cousins who've tied you, and as for your sister, you've always teased her about just how stinky her feet are. What's all that about?"

I sigh, think a bit, and answer as truthfully as I can "I honestly don't really know myself mom; I just like the smell of girls' feet, not every girls' feet, just most, and I'm not interested in the smell of boys feet, although I think I first started by sniffing my own feet and shoes. As for Margo's tights there, well, I just like some form of torture while I'm tied up, and pretending to be tickled is just not enough, so I thought I'd force myself to smell Margo's, since I don't like hers and it would be a kind of torture then."

"Hmmm, perhaps it is my fault after all, that you like the smell of women's feet," my mom replied.

"I don't understand? Why blame yourself?"

"Now whose asking the questions, eh? Fair enough. When you were only but 2 years old, and your aunts and uncles were over to play card games all night with your dad and I, we kept you in a crib nearby so we can keep an eye on you. But you were such an escape artist back then, she giggled. Try what we may, you always climbed out of your crib, and would crawl under the table where we played, and then would nestle up against the feet of one of your aunts or mine, mostly mine, and fall fast asleep there; but never against one of your uncles or your own father's. When we thought you were sound asleep, we'd gently place you back in your crib, but within a few minutes you'd be right back at one of the women's feet."

"Maybe I was just born that way, not made to be that way." I answer.

"Perhaps, but we must get ready to go now; no time to change, keep my, actually your tights now, on, and just pull some long pants over them, and put back on your t-shirt you've left on the floor by your bed. "Ah mom!"

"Don't 'ah, mom' me. Now go freshen up in the bathroom if you need to, but keep your tights on, and pull long pants over them or all deals are off and it's the family meeting I mentioned earlier."

"Yes mom."

"That's better; besides, don't you enjoy wearing tights anyway? If you wear them under long pants you can wear them without anyone every finding out, and you can wear them even while not playing TUGs."

"You wouldn't mind if I did that, mom?"

"So long as it is your tights you wear and not those of someone else, then I don't see an issue."

"Really? Thanks mom!"

I'm obviously still tied, stretched out and tethered to my bed, but my mom simply takes on a very serious look and says in her most commanding tone, "Well? what are you waiting for! Get moving BOY!".

Bemused, I start to trash about in my binds, while grinning a bit and letting out grunting sounds. Nothing gives, and my mom just keeps staring sternly at me. After a couple of minutes of observing my useless squirms and trashing against my binds, she mockingly asks "need a little assistance Seb? We haven't got much time." I don't reply and she finally relaxes her look and let's out a little playful giggle and says "okay, okay, let me undo those binds." I stop trashing and she expertly unties me completely in less than a minute. "You really were not even going to ask me to untie you? Boy, you really enjoy being tied-up even when tasked with the impossible or subjected to unreasonable expectations!"

"Yeah, mom, that was fun too! Thank you!"

"Oh, don't thank me yet! As I said, you still have a few more promises to make and keep before the night is over. But you've been very cooperative so far, so as an additional reward I'll let you stay up past tonight's bed-time so you can watch your favourite TV show. Now, don't bother cleaning up your room, just pull up some long pants over your tights, put your t-shirt back on, go relieve yourself in the bathroom if you need to and meet me at the front door quickly."

With that, she stands up and grabs my sister's stinky dirty tights, probably to throw them back into the hamper, and walks out of my room, calling back, "and don't forget to close your bedroom door when you step out; wouldn't want your sister to see all those ropes lying about!"

Two things during that brief moment struck me. First, as my mom walked out the room I finally noticed that she still had on her outdoor flats. They looked like ballet shoes, but had no straps and had both hard soles and a slight heel, so nothing like dance shoes. What momentarily struck me as odd about this was that we were not allowed in the house with our outdoor shoes and my mom would usually walk around the house in her indoor slippers. However, I didn't dwell on this as the second thing that struck me was that she was going to allow me to watch my favourite show tonight!

(Side note: Now, this TV show had a special place in my heart. In my corner of French-Canada, the show aired, dubbed in French only, on Saturday nights, but I was not allowed to watch it then and had to wait for re-runs over the holidays and summer-time. The name of that show: Star Maidens. For those who know not of it, it was a British-West German co-production, about an entire planet ruled by women and where all men were their slaves! I believe to this day that this TV series, more so than most of the Adam West Batman episodes that I was allowed to watch Saturday mornings, played a major formative role my development. Imagine, and entire planet ruled by women! No man ever appeared tied-up by those women as far as I could recall, but the requirement that they had to obey all commands issued by women, was a form of "societal" bondage. A TUG, within the mind, if not with visibly apparent ropes.)

Within minutes, we were off to pick up my sister from her ballet lessons; and I was also minutes away from discovering just how much my sister, and my cousin Janice, were already in on a plot with my mom to make sure I would never again play self-ties without 'supervision'.

(To be continued ... )
Last edited by tiedinbluetights 1 year ago, edited 3 times in total.
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Post by milagros317 »

I love the way this story is developing and look forward to more episodes. :D
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Post by Speedo »

A really very nice story with a lot of potential, I like it very much so far. I am looking forward to the sequel.

I hope Sebby gets some embrassing girly tights und perhaps a shiny pantyhose too. And of course a matching longsleeved Leotard which he has to wear over the tights not only for the next tied up session but also in public.
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Thanks [mention]milagros317[/mention] and [mention]Speedo[/mention] for your encouragement and kind words! I hope to get the next part added in a week or so.
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Part 3---An Awkward Car Ride

It was nearing the end of September, and on that particular Saturday the end of the afternoon was still sunny although windy and a bit chilly. I had done as my mom had asked and pulled a pair of long pants over my mom's tights, which she had just allowed me to keep for my own. I also put on my t-shirt as she had asked. As requested, I did a quick stop by the bathroom and rushed down to the main entrance.

My mom was already waiting for me, ready to help me put on my windbreaker jacket, after I put on my outdoor shoes. As we walk up to my mom's car, she says, "now, just so you know, you'll have to sit in the back as I'm also picking up Janice along with Margaret. I'll be dropping off Janice at my sister's house along the way back home, so it will be simpler if she sat up front." I blush a bit, but don't say a word and get into the car behind the passenger seat. My mom had just told me several minutes ago that Janice had caught me once sniffing her ballet shoes, and that on one occasion, when she babysat me (it must have been back when I was 6 and she had just turned 16), I had asked her to tied me up, tickle me and 'force' me to smell her feet. I start to worry that Janice may have told my sister as well.

The car ride to the dance school, where my sister Margaret was taking lessons and Janice assisted the instructors, started off like most car rides with my mom, with her exclusively focused on the drive and me looking at the passing scenery. As we neared the dance school, she did however bring up that I didn't have any hobbies that would also be considered sports, like soccer, hockey, or even dance. As I've done so many times in the past, I'd say that I'm satisfied with the hobbies I have: reading comic books, reading science-fiction and fantasy novels, assembling and painting airplane and rocket models ...

"Yes, yes, dear Sebby, but those are all intellectual hobbies, hobbies in which you don't get physically active. Even the one you were going to leave out, tying yourself-up, involves you mostly being still. You need a hobby that can build up your muscles, maintain muscle tone and keep you overall physically fit."

"Are you trying to convince me to sign up for ballet again?"

"No my dear boy, there are other physical activities that come to mind. Your dad tells me that of all the televised sports he watches, the one that draws your attention and that you talk to him the most about is baseball. Perhaps you'd like to sign up for that?"

"I like watching baseball, but I can't play well; at school we play softball and I've never managed to hit the ball at bat."

"What about figure skating, Sebby?. You always watch the figure skating competitions when they are on TV."

"That's because you and Margo love watching those, mom, so I just watch along."

I can see my mom smirk "and not for the outfits the young women wear?" I blush and don't answer.

"Alright, suit yourself, but we will talk again about getting you signed up for some sport," she says as we finally pull into the parking lot by the dance school. "Now, come along, Margaret and Janice are probably already waiting inside."

"Can't I wait in the car?"

"You know I don't like leaving you and your sister in the car alone, even if it is for just a minute; anything can happen. Now come along, and don't argue." I sigh, reluctantly unbuckle--resenting the release--and step out of the car with my mom. I had deliberately pulled the seat buckle tight and it felt good during the ride, making my mom's insistence that I find some sport to sign up for all the more bearable.

Janice and Margaret were already waiting just past the main door in the large lobby area of the dance school. There were other girls there too, some with their parents helping them on with their outdoor jackets and shoes. Janice and Margo already had their coats and outdoor shoes on, and both had leg-warmers on covering most of their legs. They were both talking to a boy a bit younger than me who wasn't dressed as I thought a boy would have to be at such a school: he was just wearing a long sleeved shirt that had a V-neck, long pants that flared a bit at the bottom, and plain black socks; no shoes.

"Hello Margo! Hello Janice! Ready for your lift?" asks my mom. My sister and Janice both turn around and notice that I am next to my mom. My sister just grins the most self-satisfied, evil, twisted grin I have ever seen her do, probably delighting at my discomfort for having been dragged all the way here, for the first since she was enrolled a couple of years ago. Janice just smiles, and replies "hello auntie Anne! Oh, and hello there Sebby, up to no good, are we!" I can feel my cheeks turn red and burn, despite the warmth of the lobby.

Janice, bends down a bit, playfully ruffles my hair and adds, "your sis and I were just talking to Jimmy over here about just how few boys there are at the school. He's waiting for his dad to come pick him up." With so many eyes around, it takes all the strength I have to try to be civil and finally say something in a barely audible voice "hi Jimmy, hi Janice, hi Margo."

Jimmy extends out his hand towards me for a handshake and says "it's a pleasure to finally meet you Sebastian; your sister and cousin often mention how you like to watch dance performances on TV, but don't want to learn; if you ever change your mind, it is never to late! Ah, there's my dad, better put my shoes on. Bye!" I just stand there there, so stunned and surprised by the level of confidence and poise this boy barely my own age just displayed, that I didn't even notice who his father was as they walked out. Nor did I notice, literally seconds later, that the girl I had a crush on at the primary school I attended, Lucille, walked past with her mom on their way out. It's only when I heard a faint "I think that's Sebastian from my class ..." as they pass through the main door that I finally noticed them as they walked towards their car.

"You're such a shy little boy my poor Seb!" exclaims Janice. "You were not so shy with me when I babysat you!" I feel like I can't move, and that I am about to just melt away into pure water and disappear into the ground.

My sister finally blurts out "Seb is in trouble!" followed by making a grimacing face at me.

"Now stop that Margo!" my mother exclaims. "Be nice to your brother; you know he is very shy in public."

"Why should I be nice to him, when he always teases me about the smell of my shoes and feet, and won't play games with me!" retorts Margo. Instead of making another grimace, she grabs the small bag she had by her on the floor, that must have contained her ballet shoes, and swings it towards my face from its draw-strings. I quickly duck-out of the way, but can definitely recognize my sister's signature foot stench.

My mom says, "stop horsing around you two, Janice must be impatient to get home."

"It's all right auntie Anne." As Janice says that, I see her grab two large bags by her feet and hand one over to my mom. "I've got what you requested, it's all in here."

"Okay, let's be on our way," my mom says. Once we are back outside in the parking lot walking towards my mom's car, I finally am more confident to speak and blurt out at my sister "I'm not in trouble!"

"Yes you are!" retorts Margaret.

"No I'm not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am ..."

Janice interrupts as my mom unlocks the car doors "I see you got your voice back Sebby! Why are you so shy when it's not family members?"

I just shrug as my mother opens the car truck and places the bag Janice gave her in there, followed by Janice putting her own bag into the trunk and closing it. My mom helps my sister into the back seat behind the driver's and adjusts Margo's seat belt accordingly. My sister still has her shoe bag in her hands. Janice in turn helps me into the car and buckles me up behind the passenger seat and says "you'll have to tell me about that girl who seemed to recognize you at the end; Lucille I believe is her name isn't it?" I turn beet-red in the cheeks again, and Janice gives me a playful little pinch on my right cheek and says "you're so cute when you blush little Sebby!". Before closing my door, she gives me a little wink and tugs my seat belt an extra bit tighter "just as you like it! hey?"

As my mom and Janice get into their respective front seats, my sister swings her shoe bag onto my lap. "Hey, stop that I exclaim!" However, Margo's real goal was to distract me just long enough to lean over and pull up the left leg of my pants at shin level. "Ha! I knew it! Seb's wearing your tights mom!" exclaims with glee my sister Margaret. "You're so in trouble! Did mom also catch you all tied-up by yourself!" I am mortified yet again, and my heart is pounding again just like when my mom discovered me in selfbondage earlier that day. The drive home is about to feel excruciatingly longer as my mom starts the car and drives off.

"Now, now, we already had our suspicions about Seb tying himself up and wearing my tights" my mom interjects. "But he's been a very good and obedient boy since I caught him and he has promised he will stop tying himself when not supervised by someone I trust; isn't that so Sebby?" I nod my head yes and also say it so Janice can hear. As I do that, I feel my heart racing and all I can think of to calm myself is to try to force both of my hands down on either side of me under the waist strap of the seat buckle, pretending to have my hands tied to my sides.

"He's trying to tie himself up with the seat's waist belt ... " exclaims my sister.

Janice interrupts and says "well, technically, we are all in the car with him and so he is being supervised by people that auntie Anne trusts."

"That's totally correct Janice," replies my mom.

"Has he promised anything else yet?" snorts Margo.

"I'm working on that," my mom says matter-of-factly. "Next week when you are at your dance lessons with Janice, Sebby and I will be going shopping for some tights and leotards for him. Isn't that worth a promise from you Seb, to never again wear the tights or leotards of others as you will have your own?"

"Yes mom." I respond.

"Do you truly solemnly promise?" my mom asks while simultaneously focusing on the road. I nod my head and say "I solemnly promise."

"And we are all witness to that!" I hear Janice say from the passenger seat in front of me. "I've left a few little gifts for you Sebby in that bag I handed over to your mom; I think you'll like them!"

I feel myself calming down as I pretend strain against my seat belt. My sister just grimaces at me and grabs back her shoe bag and places it by her feet. As my sister does this, we arrive at my aunt Beatrice's house, my mom's eldest sister and mother to Janice.

"Thanks for the ride auntie Anne!"

"You're old enough now to just call me Anne, you know."

"I know, but it's been for so long I just can't help it. Any night you need me to babysit Seb, so long as it's not on a night when I'm volunteering at the hospital, just let me know." With that, Janice gets out of the car and says "bye auntie Anne, bye Margo, bye Seb."

"Bye Janice," we all say in unison. My mom adds "and thanks for looking after Margo, while I dealt with Seb back home." My mom pulls the trunk release lever that was a novelty back in the late 1970s, allowing for Janice to fetch her bag and reclose the trunk. As the car pulls away, Janice and I briefly lock gaze, she smiles, and gives me a final wink. Getting the sense that she is not mad at me, I ease up fully and remove my hands from between myself and the waist strap of the seat buckle. My skin at the top of each wrist is red with irritation and pressure.

"Mom? What did Janice mean by little gifts for me?" My sister now has a huge grin, which makes me suspect she knows.

"You'll get to see some of it when we get home. No point in spoiling the surprise!"

The rest of the ride home turned out to be uneventful. My sister and behaving, keeping to ourselves allowing our mom to focus on the drive. However, I was about to be in for yet another huge shock. As we arrive home and my mom unlocks the front door, my sister bolts into the house right away, with her outdoor shoes and jacket still on. "Hey!" I exclaim, but she is already running upstairs.

"That's alright Sebby, you were going to help with the cleaning tomorrow anyway; isn't it your turn to pass the vacuum and sweep the floors tomorrow?"

"That's right, okay then." I then proceed to go upstairs myself as my mom drops the large bag Janice gave her and locks the front door.

"Hold it right there!" My mom exclaims. "I didn't say you can go upstairs in your outdoor shoes." I'm now confused.

"You complain that Margaret's feet and shoes stink, so consider it a kindness to you that she didn't remove them here. As for me, I'm keeping mine one, because, as I said, before this night is over I will need you to make a few more promises, and I will need to have my shoes on for that." Now, I'm really perplexed. My mom proceeds to open the long zipper on the bag she just dropped, and pulls out two paper bags. "These must be it. Yes, they are indeed!" she says with a smile.

"As for you, my little Sebby, you are still in trouble, and you must still wear proper indoor footwear." My eyes pop-out of my head as from the first brown paper bag she pulls out a pair of my cousin Janice's pink matte canvas ballet slippers with a split sole that she used to wear when much younger. "You are to take off your shoes and put these on right now."

I'm so stunned that I simply obey and take off my outdoor shoes and put on the ballet slippers with my mom's help. They are clean and don't smell of anything, but I can make out where Janice's old toe prints used to be. These used to be meant for girls, but are soft all around with two criss-crossed elastic bands that go over the open tops of the shoe around the front of each ankle to hold the shoe in place. There is also a long elastic cord that's threaded through the circular seam around the top opening of each shoe, which can be pulled tighter and tied into a bow above the toes to make the slippers fit even more snugly. My mom pulls those tight and ties them into little bows so that my cousins old--that's now actually my new--slippers don't slide easily off my feet clad in tights.

"There! You look so adorable in those!" my mom exclaims. "Now, before you go upstairs, I want you to take this." She hands me the other paper bag. "I want you to go to your room, take off your long pants and shirt, and then pull what's in here over your tights. Don't remove your tights or slippers. Then come back down to the kitchen, so we can all eat together. Do you understand?"

I nod yes, hand my mom my windbreaker, and head up to my room with the paper bag. I can here my sister already in the upstairs bathroom taking her post exercise shower. I enter my room, and the yellow ropes are still there as they were left, so I feel relieved that my sister didn't rush into my room. I quickly clean up my room, stuffing all the rope and the duct tape under my bed. I remove my t-shirt and pull off my long pants without removing my cousin's gifted pink ballet slippers, which was surprisingly easier to do than I thought it would be. I finally open the paper bag and out comes my cousin Janice's shiny pink, long-sleeved, mock turtle-neck, back-zippered leotard! My jaw is wide open, as I slowly pull it on, enjoying the feel of the fabric against my skin as much as do the feel of the tights. This is exactly the same leotard Janice wore once while practising her dance moves one night while babysitting me years ago. I remember watching her dance in the living room as I peaked around a corner while I believed she thought I was in my bedroom playing.

As I'm about to step out of my room, my mom calls up "oh, and Sebby, please bring down the roll of duct-tape and all the ropes!" I'm sure my sister overheard that! She was still in the upstairs bathroom, but the shower was no longer running. I quickly do as my mom asked, clad in black tights, pink ballet shoes and a shiny long-sleeved pink leotard, hoping to make it downstairs before my sister comes out of the bathroom. My heart is pounding, for both anticipation and dread of what may follow.

(To be continued in Part 4---Saturday Night StinkFed in the Kitchen and Part 5---Saturday Night Stink)

(Note: Holidays are over and it's back to the work grind, so it will take me substantially longer between new chapters. The above was mostly a bridging chapter between what was set up in the first two (minor edits added) and what is to follow. I hope readers still found something relatable or enjoyable. I leave you with the title of the next part two parts, and promise the fans of stinky feet and tickle tortures that there will be plenty of that in the next instalment parts 4 and 5!)
Last edited by tiedinbluetights 1 year ago, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by milagros317 »

Great chapter! This is a fine series. :D
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Post by Blackfox74077 »

cant wait see whats gonna happen great story
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Post by Boytaped »

a really well written story. i would wish little sebb that his mother would tie him up very safely and effectively and leave him tied up supervised for a long time.
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Post by Canuck100 »

Really enjoying your story and how it’s developing.
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Post by Mommy's Naughty Boy »

I am absolutely enjoying this story! Great work and thanks for sharing.
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Thanks everyone for the kind words and encouragement. I'm hoping to get the next part out beginning of next week. :)
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

UPDATE: So, the next part of my story, which I prematurely titled "Saturday Night Stink," and had to change the title of, turned out to be much longer than anticipated initially, and had to be split it into two more manageable parts. Here you will find a re-titled Part 4, with Part 5 following shortly.

By digging up all the fantasies that 11-year old me/Sebastian had wished to become true all those years ago, a torrent of text has started to spew forth onto paper. I used to daydream a lot as a kid and come up with all sorts of outlandish scenarios in the theatre of my mind, far beyond just being cops running after robbers!


Part 4---Fed in the Kitchen

I make it into the kitchen, glad that my sister is still upstairs and hasn't sat into my favourite chair at the table, the one my dad usually sits in when he's home. My mom is finishing up preparing the leftovers from last night's Chinese takeout: mostly leftover chicken fried rice and General Tao's chicken. "Mom, here are the ropes and the duct tape as you asked."

My mom takes the roll of duct-tape and places back into the knickknack drawer. "Now, go take those ropes back into the garage where you found them." I hurry downstairs, hoping to make it back before my sister takes my favourite seat, through our semi-finished basement, past the laundry room, and back up through the interior garage door. The garage feels chillier than usual, given that I am only wearing a pair of shiny black tights with a shiny pink long-sleeved leotard and just thin pink canvas girl's ballet slippers. The cement floor of the garage feels particularly cold, so one I return the ropes to their rightful place, next to my dad's fishing equipment, I hurry back through the basement.

Before I make it to the stairs up to the kitchen, I finally notice a change to our basement living/entertainment room--or den. Our den had a decently sized TV connected to a recently released VHS tape deck (this was the late 1970s), and a coaxial cable wired switch box common with cable companies at the time. The cable switch box lied on a small table next to my dad's Lazy Boy reclining chair, and after that table was a sofa that could comfortably fit three adults. The sofa and recliner were oriented such as to face the TV with a comfortable viewing angle. All that was as usual.

What was different is that my mom must have gotten a spare chair out from the unfinished storage part of the basement. This chair was like my mom's and dad's at the upstairs kitchen table; a wooden chair with four legs, a cushioned seat, four thin but sturdy vertical slats (offering nearly zero back support), and two wooden arms. The two other chairs at the kitchen table where my sister and I sat when mom and dad where both home had no arms. Our kitchen table could sit up to eight people and came with four chairs without arms and four with arms. However, we only kept the four we needed (two without arms for Margo and me and two with arms for my dad and my mom) upstairs while the rest were kept in the basement's unfinished half next to the laundry room.

This particular chair that I now saw out of place in the basement was a special chair for me. It is exactly the one I use to tie-myself to when I am home alone sometimes, and the one my cousins and I tie each other down to during rainy summer days when we have to play indoors. I clearly recognize the slight discoloration of the wooden legs and the wooden arms at the points where rope had come into contact with the wood. Even the seat cushion is slightly discoloured at parts. I'm frozen in my tracks as I take in what else I see: next to the chair is the large bag my cousin Janice had left with my mom, coils of white rope hanging out of it. My heart starts pounding and I recall my mom's promise to let me stay up late and watch my favourite TV show tonight: Star Maidens!

"Like what you see? Hurry on upstairs and let's have supper," I hear my mom call out. I snap out of my dreamy state and slowly, carefully, make my way back upstairs to the kitchen, heart pounding with excitement.

I make it back up to the kitchen. The table is set, my mom and sister already eating. To my surprise, my sister hadn't taken my dad's chair with the arms. Instead, she is sitting to the right of my mom, her usual place, and has put on her favourite pink pyjamas with her favourite pair of pink fuzzy slippers. Margaret is gleefully smiling and says, "look! we are wearing matching colours! you look silly in pink!" I blush.

"Now, be nice to each other," my mom says. As my mom turns her attention from my sister to me it is clear to me that the smile she had on her face for my sister turns into a commanding frown by the time she locks eyes with me. I take this to be a stern warning not to tease my sister back, so I don't. "Can I sit in dad's chair?" I ask my mom.

"Certainly, my dear Sebby, that's why Margo sat next to me; see how nice she can be? You should be nicer to your sister."

I sit down in my dad's chair, but I only just notice that aside from two plates of leftovers--one for my mom and one for my sis--there are no other plates on the table. I look up at my mom confused. My mom is now smiling sweetly again at me, which I find reassuring, but Margo has this evil grin on her face and blurts out "let's play a game with Sebby!"

"You were taking too long to come back up," my mom clarifies, "so I placed your plate in the oven to keep it warm. However, there is a catch!" She gets up, still wearing her outdoor shoes I notice, and still dressed up as she was through-out the day. She walks up to the oven and takes out my plate and brings it to where I'm seated, holding my warm plate.

"Now we can play!" Margo exclaims.

Still confused I look up at my mom who is smiling gently at me. "You see, dear Sebby, Margo has told me here that you never want to play with her; your sister likes to play with her dolls and doll house, but whenever she invites you to play along, you always refuse!"

"Yeah, you're no fun! Wish I had Janice as my sister instead of ..."

"Now hold on," my mom interrupts Margaret as she finally places my plate in front of me, but there are no utensils for me. "In Seb's defence, I understand why most boys his age don't like to play with their younger sisters, especially with dolls and such; they prefer to play with toy trucks and soldiers as such."

"I don't like playing with those either, mom."

"I know, Sebby, you prefer to read your comic books and paint your toy models. But try to think how it must feel for your sister to be always either ignored or teased by her older brother."

"Yeah, you always tease me about my stinky feet, but then ..."

"Hush, dear Princess Margaret," my mom interrupts, "let little Sebby here reflect a moment about what I just said."

I think about what my mom and sis just said. My sister's expressed desire to have Janice as an older sister, instead of me as her older brother, is not alien to me. I too have, at times wished to have been Janice's younger brother. However, it is starting to dawn on me that perhaps I have been wrong to neglect my little sister; after all, she is my only sister. One game she always wanted to play with her dolls and me was to pretend she was the princess of a castle and I was one of the palace guards.

As I think about all this, my sister Margaret slides out of her chair, runs out of the kitchen just for a second, grabs something just around the corner of the entrance, and comes right back. It is at this point that I see her holding several lengths of the same white rope I saw dangling out of the bag in the basement. "You never play tie-up games with me over the summer! You always run away from me and always catch or let yourself be caught by Miri or Mike."

"That's because the few times I did let you catch me, your knots were too loose and I got free too ..."

"Well now," my mom interjects. "A good brother would have taught his sister how to tie those knots better. So now, I'm going to show Margo a few knots. You will get to eat, but Margo and I will be feeding you."

"Just like I pretend to feed my dolls!" Margo interjects with glee.

"Ah mom!" I protest.

"I told you not to 'ah mom' me! Remember that you are still in trouble and I need a few more promises before the night is over. If you want to stay up late and watch your show downstairs later tonight, you will have to play along now and make a few promises."

"What promises?"

"Don't be impatient Seb. Now Margo, come around here and let me show you how to tie his arms to the chair. Seb, just relax back into the chair and let us do all the work."

Despite my expressed reluctance, this is another dream come true of mine! My mom must have figured it as she just winks at me and pinches my right cheek as I smile back at her. My mom proceeds to show my sister Margaret how to effectively, but not too tightly, tie my right arm to the arm of the chair at the wrist and just below my elbow. The rope feels softer than the yellow nylon rope I had gotten from the garage.

"It's cotton rope," my mom explains. "It is softer and also more flexible than the nylon rope your dad keeps in the garage with his fishing gear. However, you must not use it unsupervised to tie yourself as the knots can get quite hard to undo; there must always be someone else present with a pair of these in case the knots get too difficult to undo." From a pocket I didn't realize her long skirt had, she pulls out an oddly shaped pair of scissors, similar to the ones I've seen in art class, but bigger.

My mom goes on explaining, "these are safety scissors, and can cut easily through these cotton ropes should an emergency arise or the knots are just too tight to undo. Now my dear little Margo, try tying-up your brother's left arm as I just showed you. I'm going to re-heat our plates in the meantime." My mom walks away with our plates as my sister Margo tries to tie my left arm the same way my mom tied my right arm.

My sister obviously does not have the strength of my mom, so Margo's ties don't feel as tight as my mom's. However, when Margo asks me to test my arm binds, I realize I can't get her knots loose, even though there is a bit more give and I can move my left arm slightly more.

"See, Seb!, I can make better knots now!"

"You sure can sis! You've gotten better!"

"Now I can feed you like my dolls, only for real! Hey! I want to show you something Seb! Mom, can I run up to my room and fetch one of my dolls?"

"Sure, go ahead honey dear. Would you like some more food when you return."

"No thanks, mom! I'm full!" my sister says as she goes up to her room.

My mom returns with the re-heated plates, one for herself and one for me. She also pours me a tall glass of water and places a plastic straw into it. Of course, I'm unable to eat or drink for myself.

"Here, Seb; take a sip of water while we wait for Margo to return." She brings the glass of water close to me, and I lean forward a bit to take a few refreshing sips. I've been wearing the tights for a few hours now, and my feet are starting to sweat in the pink ballet slippers that my cousin Janice had gifted me with. So I greedily take a few more sips, before my mom pulls the glass away as we hear my sister come back down the stairs.

"Look Seb! You look just like my doll Molly here!" Molly was a plushy doll, not one of those hard plastic ones, or the ones made out of porcelain. My sister was right, however. Molly was a black-haired ballerina, with black legs and a pink torso and pink 'shoes'. What made Molly a ballerina was the matching pink tutu that was attached to the doll's waist. I was not going to point out that particular difference between Molly and myself.

"You're right, Margo, I do look like Molly."

"It's PRINCESS Margaret, and PRINCESS Molly, to you! peasant!" my sister answers and starts to giggle with glee.

I look at my mom, a bit confused. "Yes, Seb; for this game you will not address us by our usual names, but address us as if we were born of nobility. So here are the rules. Every time I feed you, you will say 'thank you, Queen Anne.' If your sister feeds you you will say 'thank you Princess Margaret.' ..."

"... and 'thank you Princess Molly!" my sister exclaims.

"You are also not allowed to initiate conversation, and whenever we ask you something you must answer truthfully and always end your answers with with our proper title, including our name. Do you understand, peasant Sebastian?"

"Yes, Queen Anne," I reply.

"Good, and should you fail to play along at any point, or make the promises to keep that I will ask of you in a few moments, it will be an early night for you, you won't get to watch that TV show you like and more importantly, no more tie-up games ever!"

My mom proceeds to place a bit of food on a clean spoon she brought with her and asks the first question. "Do you steal sniffs from our shoes, dirty socks and tights, when you think we are not looking Sebastian?"

I think just for a couple of seconds, obviously realizing that I have been busted with all my little self tie-up escapades and related predicaments. Having been commanded to be truthful, or be otherwise grounded and permanently forbidden to play TUGs, I see no point in hiding anything anymore. "Yes, Queen Anne."

"Good, that was also a test, as we have caught you doing so many times, but not until now have we decided to do something about it," my mom answers matter-of-factly. She gently feeds me my first bite.

"Thank you, Queen Anne."

"My turn! Do you solemnly promise to play more games with me, and to stop ignoring me, and to stop teasing me about the smell of my feet, and to help me with my homework, and to ..."

"Be patient Princess Margaret, that's enough promises to make, all in one go," my mom interrupts. As my sister says all that, I see her holding my spoon full of chicken fried rice, shaking slightly. I exchange glances between my mother and sister. My mom just smiles at me as she takes a bite of her own food followed by a sip of water; my sister's eyes on the other hand look at me expectantly and with some wateriness, as if she is about to start to cry. My heart breaks; I never wanted to be mean to my sister, or make her cry. My own eyes start to water a bit.

"I, your loyal peasant Sebastian, hereby solemnly promise to you, my Princess Margaret, that I will play more games with you, that I will stop ignoring you, that I will help you with your homework, and, as your heart so clearly desires, stop teasing you about the smell of your feet, and anything else, dear Princess Margaret."

My sister's face is beaming with joy, as she eagerly feeds me my next bite. After I swallow, and respond "thank-you, Princess Margaret, thank you, Princess Molly", Margo does something that I totally never expected she ever would. Margo leans in by left ear and whispers "thank you, Sebastian; I am glad you are my brother and I do love you" and gives me a sisterly peck on the check as I would expect older, caring sisters would do.

I am stunned, I do love my sister too, but we never say it to each other. She broke that barrier, first. In the context of this game we are now playing, I don't know how to reciprocate. Had I not had my arms bound to the chair, I would have asked her if she would have liked a brotherly hug. My mom, realizing what's going on in my mind, says with her kindest voice, "Sebastian, you may break character this once and make one statement to your sister."

"My dear sister, I mean all that I am about to say. I am so sorry that I have hurt you; I apologize and promise to be a better brother to you; I love you Margaret," and quickly add "Princess Margaret; and I do mean it Queen Anne," for good measure. My eyes are welling with tears, and so are my sister's, but we are both also smiling at each other. For years I had wished for a different sister, and never did I consider, until now, that my sister was entitled to have wishes of her own.

My mom had gotten up and returned with some tissue paper to wipe are eyes and noses. "There, that's better; that was very genuine and gracious of you Sebastian," she says as she smiles at me. My mom then winks at me and adds "that chivalrous display may just get you promoted from mere peasant to knight or even royal guard! But for now, you are still our peasant prisoner! Now let's finish up the meal and clean up. Your show starts in about 90 minutes, which will give us enough time downstairs to set things up for a bit fun for everyone."

I spend the next five minutes or so taking alternating bites from a spoon full of food held by my sister and sips of water from the tall glass with a straw, as my mom finished her plate. I dutifully respond "thank you, Princess Margaret, thank you Princess Molly," after every bite and every sip, which makes my sister giggle every time. I feel silly calling my sister's doll "Princess Molly," but it makes my sister happy, and I've just started, at my age of 11 years, to realize just how precious it is to make one's younger sister feel genuinely cared for and happy--I'm gladly playing along.

I finish my plate--expertly fed by my sister--and I'm released. I help my mother finish with cleaning up the kitchen while my sister runs up to store her doll Molly away. Through-out all this, even though I am no longer tied, I don't break with the rules so far established as my mom has not stated the game to be over. With the cleaning up of the kitchen all done, we head down to our basement den, with my mom grabbing the ropes I was tied with in the kitchen, and the roll of duct-tape from the knickknack drawer.
Last edited by tiedinbluetights 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Part 5---Saturday Night Stink

Once my mother, sister and I got to the basement, I once again became transfixed by the scene my mom had secretly set up: the spare chair facing the TV, between the Lazy Boy and sofa, and the bag Janice had left with my mom with some more of that white cotton rope dangling out of it.

"Here are the rules of our next little game, Seb, so pay attention" my mother starts to wake me out of my daydreaming. "Before we get started, you no longer need to call me Queen Anne. How about you Margaret?"

"I want Seb to keep calling me Princess Margaret!"

"Alright, but only for the rest of the weekend; come Monday morning, you are both off to school and you need to behave as you would ordinarily, yet with Seb still bound by his promises to you Margaret. Understood?"

"Yes mom," both Margaret and I respond.

"Good, next, we will tie you down to the chair here Seb, and gag you with this roll of tape. At any point, if you no longer wish to be tied-up and gagged just knock on the wood of the chair's back with the your head; I'll show you how. I'll also monitor your breathing and I'll reserve the right to put an end to your tie-up even if you would want to stay tied-up longer. Understood?"

"Yes, mom!"

"Good; your show starts in just over an hour, and it's a 30 minute long episode, so that's potentially 90 minutes of being tied-up to a chair; that's a lot for anyone, let alone a little boy, but I've seen you stay tied up that long last summer during your games with Miri and Mike; do you really enjoy being tied up that long Seb?"

"Yes mom! Much longer even mom!"

My mom sighs, but smiles reassuringly before adding "I know, but don't push yourself too hard my dear Sebby, this is also a part of why I don't want you tying yourself up unsupervised; you could end up hurting yourself, or worse; so remember all your promises and keep to them. Okay my dear, sweet Sebby?"

"Yes mom, I've promised and will keep my promises." I notice my mom is a bit sad however, and I start to worry that I've made her sad.

My mom must have picked up on my concern and with a reassuring smile adds "I know you have hidden a couple of old discarded extension cords between your bed's mattress and box spring. I've even caught you once sleeping with your ankles and knees tied together with those cords under your bed sheets. I haven't said anything about it until now, but your promise includes never tying yourself up overnight either."

I blush and do a hard swallow, before answering "I'm sorry mom, I understand. As promised I'll stop tying myself up unsupervised and I'll never sleep tied-up."

"My sweet little Sebby," my mom says "do you know why you like tying yourself up overnight?"

"I feel safer for some reason; it is hard to really explain, but I will hold to my promise; I promise!"

My mom sighs and says "remember that I've also made a promise to you, to not judge you and to find a way to give you what you need. I'm not saying you can never be tied-up overnight; I just need to find a way for it to be safe without depriving myself or anyone else of their own sleep. So you will just have to be patient; I already have part of a solution in Janice's bag here, but that will be a surprise for you when Janice comes over to babysit you Tuesday night."

During all this time, my sister is listening intently, and then simply adds to my mom's last statement, "we don't want you getting hurt Seb!"

My sister and mom then each take hold of one my hands, and my mom asks "ready to be tied to the chair?" I nod yes.

"Okay, now after Princess Margaret and I tie you down to the chair and gag you, I'll explain a few more rules for tonight's game." My mom tasks my sister to tie my torso the slats of the back seat of the chair with two of the white cotton ropes, one just under my arms and one around my waist, while my mom herself proceeds to tie each of my arms to the arms of the chair like in the kitchen, and also tie each of my feet, one to each front leg of the chair. Given my height as above average for an 11 year, about the same height as my mom already, my feet still touch the ground, but at the toes only.

My mom is much quicker than my sister, and by the time my mom has secured both my arms and both my feet, my sister has only tied the one rope just under my arms. "Is the rope around your chest too tight Seb? I don't want to hurt you!"

I test her work by trying to lean away from the back of the chair, and to my surprise the rope is pretty well tied and is not getting loose despite not being able to see the knot she used behind my back. I look at my sister and say with a smile "it's just perfect, Princess Margaret!" remembering that she still wished me to address her like that, at least for the rest of the weekend.

Margaret smiles with pride and proceeds to tie my waist as my mother watches, her too with a prideful smile. I still wonder how my mom knows so much about tying people up, and how she managed to teach Margo so quickly to tie better knots. As I wonder about all that, I feel Margo pull the several loops of rope around my waist to tied off the loose ends behind the chair. As my sister does this, she asks again "is it too tight?"

Now, when it came to being tied at the waist, only my cousin Mike (or myself during selfbondage games) has ever tied me tight enough to my satisfaction. The exchange I am about to have with my sister places me into an immediate predicament.

"I can take it tighter, Princess Margaret."

"Are you sure Sebby?" my sister responds with some concern in her voice, "I really don't want to hurt you."

"Even cousin Miri does not tie my waist tight enough for me, Princess ..."

As I mention cousin Miranda, I hear my sister huff, and I then feel her placing one of her feet on the seat of the chair just behind my lower back. Before I could finish addressing her properly as per her wish, I feel Margaret really pull tight, tighter than Mike has ever tied me at the waist, tighter than even myself. I hear the wooden chair creak a bit as Margo ties of her final knot behind my back. She comes around to face me and with a triumphant smirk on her face exclaiming "THERE! tight enough for you, PEASANT!"

"Yes ... yes, dear Princess Margaret."

Noticing that the first rope is now looser, Margo returns to my back, undoes her first tie, and now proceeds to tighten that one too. My torso is now pinned tighter to the chair than ever before, with very little give. Returning to face me, standing next to my mom in a triumphant pose, Margo says "I hope the tightness is to your liking! PEASANT!"

"Looks like you sister here does not like to be compared to your cousin Miranda; do you want out?" my mom asks.

Both stunned and amazed at the tightness my sister achieved, all I manage to do is shake my head no.

"Okay, as mentioned, since you are about to be also gagged for our next game, you can simply knock the back of your head against the wooden top of your chair, gently. Try it now."

Despite the tightness of the ropes against my chest and waist, I can easily manage to make fairly loud knocks against the chair with the back of my head.

"Good," my mom continues, "and I can release you at anytime of my own choosing as well, even if you'd like to continue longer," and she shows me the same pair of safety scissors she had in the kitchen. "Now, any last verbal requests before I gag you and explain the rest of the evening's game?"

"No last requests mom, no last requests Princess Margaret," and I slowly shake my head no, indicating that I am ready.

My mom proceeds to gag me with the duct-tape, wrapping several loops around my head, while successfully avoiding my hair. She explains to my sister how to do it effectively, with horizontal and diagonal passes, passes at the lip level, as well as above and below the lips, taking care not to obstruct the nostrils and patting each pass down before the next. As my mom does all this, my sister looks with wide eyes, absorbing the technique my mom uses.

I'm happy beyond measure. For the first time, I'm finally being gagged by my captors! In all my TUGs up until now, it has only been in self TUGs that I was ever gagged; my parents, aunts and uncles, never allowing us kids to do it to each other during our summertime games. However, as my mom finishes off the gag, my true predicament starts to kick in. I sense my bladder getting full from all the water I had at supper! I realize I could put an end to this TUG, but I don't want to!

"There, say hi to your sister, Seb."

"Hhhooii Mmmreempceess Mrrgrrthh." Both my mom and sister let out a little chuckle.

"Good, so listen attentively Seb. The game we shall play is 'identify that smell'. Since you cannot speak clearly, you will have to use your head to nod yes or shake no to yes/no questions we will ask. In order to play this game, we will need to blindfold you." My mom steps up to the large bag on the floor, and takes out a simple blue cushioned blindfold like the ones that used to be given out to airplane passengers on long flights. "Before I place this blindfold on you, I want you to understand the rest of the rules of the game. Ready to hear them?"

I nod yes.

"Good. To make it easier on you, we shall limit what you will be smelling. Since you like to sniff our shoes and our tights, you will be made to sniff one of these for a few seconds. We will then ask you if you think the smell is from a shoe. If it is not a shoe it will be for sure either one of our tights or feet. Finally we will ask you whose shoe or tights or foot it was. We will ask these using simple yes/no questions. Understood?"

I nod yes.

"Excellent, there is also a reward/punishment mechanism," my mom continues to explain. She turns to my sister and asks, "what do you think it should be, Margo?"

My sister thinks a bit and answers "we could tickle his feet if he gets a smell wrong."

"Ah my dear Margo, Seb here loves to be tickled, especially on his feet, right at the arches; that's where he's the most ticklish; let me show you!" My mom proceeds to remove my pink ballet slippers that my cousin Janice used to wear, and tosses them aside. "You take his right foot, I'll take his left."

I immediately tense up as they dig their fingers into the arches of my soles. The chair starts to shake and creak a bit, my laughter muffled a bit by the tape-gag. My bladder feels as if it is getting fuller, but I'm enjoying this too much to signal a stop! After just about 10 seconds they stop, my sister giggling with glee all along. "That's fun!" my sister exclaims.

"Yes, but Seb here will deliberately get all the questions wrong if the punishment is tickling. You see my dear Margo, Seb enjoys predicaments; being tickled is not a punishment, but a reward for him. So here is what we should do. If he answers correctly, we add 10 seconds longer to the previous tickle time. We already gave him 10 seconds, so if he correctly answers our next question, we tickle for 20 seconds, and increasing by 10 seconds for each successively correct answer. We can tickle his feet, his knees, his ribs and stomach, and his under arms; no where else. Being blindfolded he will not be able to anticipate where the tickles will occur. If he answers wrong, we reduce the tickle time by 10 seconds. If his tickle torture time is already down to zero, and he answers wrong, the game is over, and we untie-him and he has to go to bed without watching his show. If he is as good at math as his teacher says, he should be able to keep track of how long each of the tickles will last. What do you think Margo?"

"Yes! I like that! What if we tickle him so much that he does pee-pee into his tights and leotard?" Margo asks.

"That would be very unfortunate, and in that case not only does the game end, but no other tie-up games for the rest of the year!" my mom exclaims, as she winks at me knowingly, probably realizing my predicament!

"And what if he signals out?" my sister asks.

"In that case, because he is doing the right thing--it is always right, never wrong--to signal out, the game stops and we untie him, no questions asked and without hesitation, but he gets to still watch his show. However, as an incentive, if he makes it to the show's start time with 10 seconds or more of tickle time and not having signalled-out, he will get to watch his show still tied-up if that's what he wants, and with one of our shoes tied to his nose as added torment--Seb likes to be tormented like that, for some reason!"

"This is going to be fun!" my sister exclaims.

With that, my mom places the blindfold on my eyes, and I'm in darkness, yet not afraid. I am also now doubly determined not to signal release, as I would love to watch my favourite TV show (about a planet ruled by women and where men are their slave) all tied-up and sniffing either one of my mom's or my sister's shoes. I figure I can last another hour and a bit till the show's end. As I'm thinking about this, a most familiar and reassuring smell starts to assail my nostrils, which despite its sharpness and warmth, relaxes me into my bondage.

Before I'm even asked the question, I'm certain of the answer, but I have to carefully consider this hellishly divine predicament I've gotten into. My bladder is getting full, yet I want to be tickle tortured. As I ponder this, I remember last summer's games and one time where I asked cousin Mike to tickle me while I was tied-up. Cousin Miranda had refused to tickle me, claiming that it would be too cruel a thing to do to me. Mike chimed in and said he'd do it, but that I'd have to try to stay still. I asked him why, and what he replied then, resonated in my ears now "because if you squirm constantly, you will end-up peeing yourself." There, that must be the key, to move as little as I can manage as I'm tickled! And yes, I was good at math in school, so perhaps I could keep the tickles at just the right duration.

I hear my mom ask, "so, Seb, do you recognize the smell?" It was warm and felt humid, a mixture of a sweet, earthy smell, with a pungent, vinegary smell. I nod yes.

"Is it a shoe?" Margo chimes next. I shake my head no.

"20 seconds! Go!" my mom exclaims as the smell leaves my nostrils, and I feel my sister's little fingers dig into my underarms and ribs, while my mom tickles my feet. It's for each question that I get right, not just each source of smell! I try my best not to squirm too much, but the chair does creak a couple of time before the tickles stop.

"Was it my tights?" asks my sister Margo. Again I shake my head no.

My mom exclaims "correct! It was my tan nylons, Sebby, fresh off my feet. 30 seconds! Go!" The tickles are more intense, and I feel the mounting pressure in my bladder, but I'm determined not to signal-out and instead 'win' this game. What I had not anticipated, was just how ticklish the spandex leotard made my ribs. Under my sister's little fingers, my ribs were nearly as ticklish as my underarms. My mom was right, earlier in the day, to suspect that would be the case--and I didn't have to wait a week to find out! Despite the mounting pressure in my bladder, I hold it in, and feel there is still a lot more I can take.

The tickles stop, and a new smell assails my nostrils. This one is only vaguely familiar, like wet earth, oddly pleasant, but hard to describe, it reminds me of the time I stole a sniff of Janice's ballet shoes one night, a couple of years ago.

"Are we being too cruel to poor Seb?" my sister asks my mom as one of them keeps whatever the source of the smell is near my nose.

"Not at all, dear Margo," I hear my mother answer. "Sebby here would consider ending this game and untying him before he wants to be free to be the cruel act. Am I right Seb?" I nod my head yes.

"In fact, what we are doing in this game is actually being kind to Sebby, being compassionate, we must never do anything deliberately cruel and mean to each other, we must be kind to one another."

As my mom says all that, I also catch a whiff of a faintly milky, but not quite cheesy scent. I now am pretty sure what this is.

The smell goes and my sister asks "was it a shoe?" I nod head yes.

"40 seconds! Go!" This time, only my ribs are tickled, mom on one side, sister on the other. Yet, I remember what Mike told me and try very hard to squirm as little as possible. Besides, as I squirm away from one set of fingers I only end up squirming towards another. The tickling stops and I am still confident I can last up until my show's start.

"Was it my shoe?" Margo asks next. This time I shake my head no, as I'm pretty sure it is Janice's old, now my own, canvas slippers that were removed from my feet a few minutes ago that I smelled.

"And was it my shoe?" my mom adds. Again I shake my head no.

"Impressive!" my mom exclaims! "That was a trick bonus question and you got two more questions in a row right! 60 seconds! Go!" My sister and mom now dig randomly into my knees and my feet, leaving my upper body alone. But in my eagerness to get the right answers, I forgot my strategy to keep the time short. After 30 seconds, I start to squirm uncontrollably, breath heavily, with the chair creaking constantly. The tickling does not stop, but does diminish in its intensity a bit, my mom probably monitoring my breathing and guiding my sister to adapt her tickles as well. I'm seriously thinking of signalling out now, as I don't want to pee my tights and no longer be allowed to play TUGs for the rest of the year!

The tickling finally stops, and before I can fully return to a normal breathing, a new smell assails me, one that I just cannot recognize, sweet and floral.

"Is it a shoe?" my sister asks. I shake my head no.

"Wrong, down to 50 seconds! Go!" So I get tickled even if I get the answer wrong! I'm not sure I can last, as my sister's and mom's fingers dig into my underarms and ribs. But I still manage to last, still defiant and not giving up.

As if reading my intent my mom says "don't forget that signal Sebby, there is no shame to ask for this game to stop. Nod yes if you understood what I just said." I nod yes.

"Okay." my mom responds, and asks the next question. "So it's obviously a shoe or other footwear, but whose, is it one of Margo's?" I sense that my mom is trying to give me a hint, and I hear Margaret let out a little chuckle. I think I figured it out! Margo had showered before supper, and she loves floral scented soaps, so it must be her pink fuzzy slippers that match her pyjamas! However, I need to be careful as I need to last up till the end of my show if I wish to watch it tied-up! So I shake my head no.

"Wrong, down to 40 seconds! Go!" This time, it is only my sister's little fingers that tickle me, switching between my feet, my knees and along my ribs, sparing my underarms. However, the floral sweet scent returns to assail my nostrils and I feel the softness of the insoles press against my nose; my mom must be holding one of Margo's fuzzy slippers over my nose as my sister tickles me mercilessly. I hear her giggle and say, "so you think my feet can't smell sweet, hey, PEASANT!" With that, the tickling finally stops, but the pressure I feel in my bladder keeps mounting. However, my mom must be keeping my sister's fuzzy slipper pressed against my nose, as I still feel the soft fabric of the insoles pressed against it. That lasts only for a few second extra, and as the slipper is finally pulled away, I do catch the faintest of my sister's signature foot odour: the smell of mushy peas left out too long and going bad.

A minute passes as I catch my breadth, and I feel the pressure in my bladder subside a bit, although I'm still successful in holding it back. I'm starting to get used to this pressure, and hope that it will not mount further. A new odour starts to assail me, this one unmistakable; it is either my sister's ballet shoes from this afternoon's practice, or the feet of her ballet tights that were in those shoes. The rotting mushy pea scent is prevalent, combined with a strong cheesy smell as well.

"Is it a shoe?" my sister asks. I'm starting to seriously worry about how many more tickle torture bouts I can take! But I also don't want to be untied!

"Well?" my sister asks again, and yawns. It occurs to me that it is past our usual bed-time, so perhaps this game will end soon, and I won't have to worry about the tickles accidentally causing me to release my bladder. I nod yes. I hear my sister's ballet shoes drop by my side.

"Correct! 50 Seconds! Go!" The most intense under the knee and arch of the feet tickles begins, with both my mom and sister occasionally poking at my tightly pinned down waist and underarms. My breathing intensifies, but no matter how hard I try to blow air through my mouth, the layers of duct-tape do not budge. Just as I am about to signal out for fear of peeing into my tights, the tickles finally stop. I am panting for air.

"Are you all right Sebby, do you want this to stop?" my mom asks. I shake my head no.

"Great!" my sister exclaims, "was that one of my ballet shoes from today?" It obviously had to be, but this follow-up question was part of the rules my mom stated earlier. Thinking I could reduce the next bout of tickles down to 40 seconds, I shake my head no.

"Liar! Don't believe you, PEASANT!" my sister exclaims with renewed excitement. "You should be punished!"

"I have an idea," I hear my mom say. With that I feel one of Margo's shoes being pressed right up to my nose, the stink stronger and even less bearable than for my sister's tights from earlier today. But that's not all, I feel my mom wrapping some soft fabric around my sister's shoe and my head to keep the shoe in place. I feel her then tie off the fabric, and then stuff the loose ends into the shoe, bunching up the fabric at my nose. It's my sister's tights from her practice today! The incredible level of stink makes my eyes water and I force myself to only take short inhales and long exhales, hoping to air out her shoe and tights a bit.

My mom then says "never too late to signal-out of this game. Are you sure you want this torment to continue Seb?" I nod yes.

"Very well, we'll consider your earlier lie a doubly correct answer as penalty! 70 seconds! Go!" My mom and sister randomly tickle my armpits, ribs, knees, and feet. To endure those 70 seconds of tickling, with a full bladder, while simultaneously having my nose assailed by my sister's foul smelling shoes and tights, is a sublime predicament, diabolically sweet! I'm really close to peeing my tights, when I focus my thoughts on what cousin Mike told me when he tickled me last summer. I enjoy these tickles, and rather than resist them and squirm away from them, I try instead to move as little as possible, trying to command my body to relax rather than tense up. It's not easy, especially with my breathing of foul smelling torturous air. But as I begin to finally get used to the smell of my sister's shoe and tights, as being something pleasantly unpleasant, rather than purely unpleasant, the tickles and the creaking of the chair as squirm in it finally stop.

I feel my mom and sister's hands slowly undoing the knots of their rope-work. As my feet are untied, I feels hands rubbing them to get blood circulating. Same for my arms. My torso is finally released and the shoe, tights and blindfold are pulled off my face.

It is very bright all of a sudden, and I need to blink several times before the smiling faces of my sister Margaret and my mom come into focus in front of me. The tap-gag my mom applied still holds true. I worry that I may have peed my tights, but no, aside from a bit of sweat from the squirming, I'm dry, and boy is my bladder ever full!

"Congratulations Sebastian!" my mom says. "Looks like you've survived our whole game without reaching zero seconds and without peeing yourself. Plus, as promised, you get to watch your program tied-up if you so wish; it starts in 20 minutes, just enough time for you to go to the bathroom, clean-up a bit, get a drink of water to refresh yourself, and get tied-up again if you so wish.

My mom then proceeds to slowly and carefully peel away the duct-tape gagging me. Once fully removed she asks, "so, what shall it be my foolishly obstinate little Sebby!"

"Can I stay in my tights and leotard after I come back from the bathroom and be tied back to the chair?"

"Sure thing Sebby," answers my mom.

"And you get to have my other shoe tied to your face so you can breath that one in too!" my sister pipes in!

I reply "of course, my dear Princess Margaret; it will be my pleasure Princess Margaret to air out your other shoe." My sister giggles sweetly and smiles a big smile back at me.

"Good, now off you go to refresh yourselves in the bathroom."

My sister goes off to the upstairs bathroom while I go to the main floor one, and finally relieve my bladder, not a moment too soon. After washing up quickly, I get a small, very small sip of water from the kitchen and head back down to the basement, with 10 minutes to spare till the start of my favourite show at the time. My sister is already back downstairs, very tired, but not wanting to be upstairs alone until we are all up there sleeping; so she is up on the sofa, dozing in and out already.

"Ready Seb?" my mom asks.

"Yes mom."

"Okay, sit back down on the chair, I'll show you a different chair-tie than the one you always play with your cousins. Just relax, and let me do all the tying-up."

"And don't forget to gag him with my other shoe mom!" Margo interjects, but she is now yawning a lot and barely keeping both eyes open as she dozes on the sofa.

"Don't worry Margo! I haven't forgotten; besides I think Sebby here is starting to really enjoy the smell of your sisterly feet." My mom gives me a playful pinch on my left cheek as she says all that with a smirk.

I do as my mom says and sit down, much relieved that I've emptied my bladder before getting tied-up this time!

My mom starts by tying one of the white cotton ropes around my ankles; a few loops, and cinches them tight, but not too tight. Next two more coils are used one just above and one just below my knees pinning my legs together once more in this day, just as I love it! Next she makes sure I am well seated against the back of the chair, and ties two ropes just as Margo did almost an hour earlier, pinning my torso tight. The ropes are not quite as tight as Margo did, which is a relief.

"Here is the first difference from earlier Seb; the chair is too wide for you to bring your arms around to the back on either side, but your arms are--and I don't mean this in a bad way for a boy--thin enough to be able to fit through between outer frame of the back seat and the central slats. Would you like me to tie your arms behind your back to the chair like that."

I beam with excitement as I whisper "yes, mom," trying not to startle my sister awake.

"Okay then," and my mom proceeds to help me feed my arms through the gap on either side of the slats. She takes two more coils of rope and proceeds with one to tie my wrists together, cinch the tie, and then pull the two loose ends through the two most central slats, tying it off there and pinning my wrists to the back of the chair. "Is that okay?"

I'm loving it! I can still flap my shoulders and elbows a bit, but this is a new tie-up feeling I'm enjoying.

"I can make it a bit more restrictive like this." She grabs the second coil and wraps it around my arms just above my elbows, gently and not tight at all; she then cinches it a bit and uses the loose ends to pin my arms further to the back slats of the chair. "There, what do you think."

"I like it mom, it's restrictive, but also different."

"There is still a few minutes left before your show starts; do you want me to restrict your feet more too?"

At the moment, with my legs tied together, I can still left them away from me. Curious about what my mom has in mind, I respond "sure mom."

My mom takes one long coil of rope and feeds it through my ankle binding. She then steps behind me and pulls the rope back as much as my legs allow, tying-off the loose ends to the slats at the back of the chair. I can no longer lift and pull my legs away from the chair, my toes barely touching the floor, but I can still have a bit of squirming room. The tie feels, strangely, both very restrictive yet comforting.

"Enjoying it?"

"Yes mom!"

"Now your sister is asleep on the sofa; if you don't want me to gag you and tie her other shoe to your nose, we don't have to."

"I promised, Margaret ... Princess Margaret."

My mom smirks, pinches my left cheek, and says "your a good brother and son," and she proceeds to tap-gag me, not as effectively as before, but sufficiently to avoid any breathing through my mouth. She gently ties, again with my sister's tights, my sister's other shoe that had yet to be placed against my nose. Securing the shoe in place, she again feeds the feet of the tights into the shoe, increasing the concentration of my sister's foot stink against my nose. However I no longer resist, starting to find even this very different scent from my mother's, oddly reassuring as well--pleasantly unpleasant.

My mom turns on the TV, sets it to the correct channel, adjusts the volume so that it is barely audible and does not wake my sister, and finally whispers into my ear, "remember, you can still signal-out at any time; I'll be here watching with you and watching you; when the show is over, I'll on tie-you, wake your sister, and send you both to bed, but you Seb will have to take a quick shower before lying down in bed."

With that, the show Star Maidens starts; with the shoe in my face and the volume set low, I don't so much watch or listen to that week's 30 minute episode as much as I simply bask in the cold TV light of the show. I wish I could stay tied-up like that forever, but know that not to be possible. My arms and legs do start to ache from the restriction, just as the episode comes to its conclusion and the end credits roll.

As promised, I'm quickly untied. My sister grumpily makes it to her room, while I place my tights and leotard into the hamper and take a quick shower. Finally, I too put on my fuzzy pyjamas (blue, in contrast to my sister's pink), make it to my own room and quickly fall asleep with a huge grin on my face. A day that seemed like it was going to spiral down a dark hole, concludes blissfully instead.

(To be continued ... eventually)

NOTE: I do plan to write more, but work is finally picking up, so it could be a few of weeks, if not more, before another instalment. As Seb dreams, he will be dreaming of what it will be like when his cousin Janice will come over to babysit his sister and himself in three days time from the events above. Seb will also daydream about the colour of the tights he will get when he goes shopping with his mom the following weekend (I'm tiedinbluetights after all) and how his mom's promise to figure out a way to make overnight bondage safe will come to be fulfilled.
Last edited by tiedinbluetights 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Noname6789 »

Nice continuation. I was hoping he'd endure both of their feet at the same time.
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Noname6789 wrote: ↑1 year ago Nice continuation. I was hoping he'd endure both of their feet at the same time.
;) Wait till he's babysat by Janice with his younger sister assisting :!:
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Post by Speedo »

Please keep on writing. I'm very excited to see how the babysitting with Janice goes and I hope Seb has to endure some humiliation in the process. It would be too nice if he would be embarrassed to show himself to her in her pink high-necked girl's leotard and she tied him up in it whether he wanted it or not.
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Speedo wrote: ↑1 year ago Please keep on writing. I'm very excited to see how the babysitting with Janice goes and I hope Seb has to endure some humiliation in the process. It would be too nice if he would be embarrassed to show himself to her in her pink high-necked girl's leotard and she tied him up in it whether he wanted it or not.
Thanks for the encouraging words! My day job has finally picked-up post-covid, and there is a lot to catch up on, so I'm working long hours finally again (can't complain, cash is king!)

That said, I'm about to post a little bridging story, as It will take me at least another couple of weeks to polish-up the Tuesday entire evening long tie-up and torments for my little self 40 some odd years ago!
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

A short little filler story, while I write up the events Sebastian (me at age 11) would have wished, or otherwise gladly 'suffered' through, for that Tuesday

Part 6---In Anticipation of Tuesday

I awake Sunday morning full of anticipation. I recall my mother saying that Janice would be over to babysit my sister and me this Tuesday, and I would then discover what else was hidden in that large bag Janice had left with my mom. I also recall the promise that my mom would find a way to make my TUGs safe in exchange for a number of promises I made myself. My imagination runs wild and races at 100 miles per hour down along all the possibilities that cross my mind. Having been discovered in my selfbondage by my mom has turned from the nightmare I though it would be into a seemingly endless source of joy. I wonder how much more often I will get to enjoy being tied up, but for now, Sunday, is weekend cleaning day, and there are plenty of chores to be done.

So Sunday was spent doing chores: I vacuumed and swept the floor while my mom and sister dusted the shelves, counters and tables. I help my mom with the cleaning of the kitchen, my sister and I tidied up our bedrooms, and finally we did the laundry. What stood out for me was that for the first time my mom showed me how to wash tights and leotards by hand in the large sink we had by the washing machine. Once washed, the tights and leotards were laid flat to dry on flat meshed drying racks, the same used for our woollen winter sweaters. My mom explained that this will prevent them from stretching out as they dry, while the hand washing will prolong the life of the delicate fabrics. I was learning to take care of my future tights and leotards, as well as those of my ballerina sister.

A couple of times through-out the day I asked my mom about what else cousin Janice had placed in that large bag. I already knew it contained several rolls silver duct-tap, plenty of soft white cotton rope, and at least a blindfold like the ones handed-out on airplanes for overnight flights. It had also contained Janice's old shiny, long-sleeved, mock-turtlenecked, pink leotard and her old canvas, split-soled, pink ballet shoes, which I had the pleasure to wear and be tied-up in the night before. However, I was very curious at whatever else the bag might contain.

"Patience, Seb, you'll find out more Tuesday when Janice comes over to baby sit Margo and you" is all my mom would say, with a little wink. My mom had explained that she and my aunt Beatrice, Janice's mom and my own mom's eldest sister, were going out to a restaurant for the evening, while both their husbands were away on business trips. Tuesday night would be the best night as Janice was not volunteering at the local hospital that evening, nor did she have a dance practice or any major upcoming exams for her studies.

"Can I please get tied-up Tuesday!" I exclaimed.

"You can't be tied up every day my dear Sebby, but if you stop pestering me about getting tied-up and about what is in Janice's bag, I promise you that Janice and I have planned some pleasant surprises for you, come Tuesday. Deal?"

"Deal!" I exclaimed. I spent the rest of Sunday dutifully completing all my chores. In tidying up my room, I even got the couple of old discarded extension cords I kept between my mattress and box-spring and threw them out into the garbage to show my mom that I meant the promises I made, all without saying a word about getting tied up. After the chores, I even helped my sister with the remainder of her homework for the weekend, and after an early supper it was back off to bed, for Monday was a school day. Yet, my anticipation for Tuesday evening kept growing.

Monday itself is mostly uneventful. It's a rainy day so recess is indoors, my friends in class and I get to play games like backgammon, checkers or chess. I preferred that to playing catch with a ball outside in the school yard on sunny days. My sister Margo and I went to the same primary school; she was in 3rd grade and I was in 6th, about to graduate.

Lucille, the girl I had a crush on, and that I bumped into at my sister's ballet school on Saturday, was in my 6th grade class. We had a friendly rivalry going for we were both at the top of our class in math and sciences, but she was also better than me in languages and arts, so it was clear to me that she was the one who would win the award for being top of the class when we graduated from primary school. However, that Monday I was distracted, and was answering fewer of the teacher's questions. Despite being shy, I took pride in giving the correct answers, especially in math and science, the only two subjects I stood a chance against Lucille. Back home, I once again helped my sister as I promised, with her homework, after quickly having completed mine. Monday came and went, and once more I had a huge grin on my face as I fell asleep, daydreaming about the potential tie-ups I'd have Tuesday.

Tuesday morning I could barely contain my excitement, but still didn't pester my mom about how I would be tied-up or when, and would Janice mind, and so on. So many questions raced through my mind, I was once again unfocused in class. Tuesday was sunny, however, although a bit cool for an end of September or early October day. For recess, we had to be outside in the school yard, all grades outside at the same time. I stuck around mostly with my friends playing with a ball we would throw around at each other to catch. We mostly stuck with our classmates, but I noticed that Lucille was, instead of talking to her usual group of friends, talking instead to my sister, which I had never seen her do before. Second recess in the afternoon was also outdoors, and a bit warmer. Lucille and a group of her friends came up to my friends and me and asked us if we would like to play a game together "cops and robbers."

The game was described as sort of like tag, but with two teams: the cops who would run after the robbers and the robbers who would try to free each other from prison. If a cop tagged a robber, the robber would have to stand against the school yard fence as a prisoner. A prisoner guarded by a cop could not escape, but if left unguarded a free robber could tag the prisoner at the fence and set them free again as a robber. Robbers could not tag cops, but there would be more robbers than cops so it would not be possible for all the cops to guard all the robbers. If by the time the school bell rang there were still free robbers, the robber team would win; otherwise all the robbers would be captured and the cops would win. Now, this was a game I did enjoy playing, so long as I was one of the robbers and there were girl cops! As it turned out, Lucille ended up on the cops team and I ended up on the robbers team.

Despite not being very sporty, I could run pretty fast for my age. I outran all the guy cops, but would always gravitate towards Lucille, but pull away as fast as I could at the last minute. At some point, my best friend Samuel got caught by Lucille and had to stay up against the fence. Lucille didn't stick around to guard him, and took off right away after other robbers. That gave me a chance to go in and tag Samuel free. However, as I did so, I feel a gentle tap on my right shoulder.

"Caught you!" exclaimed Lucille. I turn beet-red as Samuel runs off and says "don't worry, I'll set you free soon Seb!"

"Up against the fence! Prisoner!" commands Lucille. I obey and just stare at her. I always wanted to be caught by her on the few rare occasions such games were played, but not this easily. "So, now that I finally have you, I'm going to guard you; no way Sam is going to set you free!" she adds with a beaming smile on her face. I keep blushing.

"What? Cat ate your tongue Seb? In class, you can't shut-up spewing answers off to the teacher."

"Only if it is math or science" I reply.

"Yes, but I've got a reputation to uphold as top of the class, but since I saw you with your sister at the ballet school, you've thankfully become too distracted to correctly answer even those questions."

"I'm not interested in ballet."

"I know, your sister Margaret told me as much this morning. Pity, we sure could use more boys at the dance school."

"Really? But I have no idea how to dance?"

"I'm surprised! You're cousin Janice is one of the instructor's assistants and quite a dancer herself, between her and the school, you could become a great dancer yourself."

I just stare at Lucille, her long red hair framing her slightly freckled face and deep green eyes. I don't know what to reply.

"Look Sebastian, I've wanted to talk to you for a while, but you are always busy playing ball with your friends, or playing games like backgammon or chess when it is raining. Despite our rivalry for the top spot in class, I like you, and I think we could become good friends. You're a bit shy, but when it comes to subjects you love like math and science you cannot shut-up! Except for these past two days that is. Not that that's a bad thing that you talk when you do, I think you have a nice voice."

"You ... you like my voice?" I say, still blushing.

"Argh! I said I like you, silly boy, and that you have a nice voice. You shouldn't be so shy, although I do think you look cute when your face matches my hair colour." Lucille tilts her head slightly to one side as she says all this looking at me expecting some response. My heart is pounding, and my hands clench the schoolyard's metal fence's mesh, pretending that I am truly her captured prisoner.

Somehow, from deep within me, I muster the courage to say what I've always wanted to say "I like you too Lucille, you ... you ... you really think I could learn to dance?"

"I think anyone can learn to dance, but I believe you can become a good dancer if you work at it." As she says that, the school bell signalling the end of recess rings.

I smirk and say with pride "I guess we robbers win!"

"Always trying to win hey, but look again, smart-aleck!" As I look around I see then all the robbers, even Sam who I had tagged free was up against the fence and he shrugs as I glance past him. "You're not the only one who is good at strategy games! Time to head back to class! Perhaps we will talk more often now and even study together on occasion?" asks Lucille with a wry smile.

"I'd like that," I respond softly.

"Good! I'd like that too; and for math class later, just put a sock in it and let me answer all the questions this time" says Lucille. I look back quizzically at Lucille and she just giggles and adds "it means stop talking, be quiet."

With that we all head back inside the school. I'm still eager to get back home to being babysat by my cousin Janice, but I'm now worried about how things will unfold with Lucille. I worry what she will think of me if she found out that I enjoy being tied-up? Would she no longer like me? Think me weird? Despite these doubts, I also can't help but think why does "put a sock in it" mean be quiet? Could 'it' be my mouth? Whose sock and why a sock? Distracted with all these thoughts, it was all too easy to not pay attention in math class and not answer the questions even when called upon, much to Lucille's delight.

Arriving home with my sister later in the afternoon, I no longer feel as eager to get tied-up that night. I was going to ask my mom if I could change into my black tights (that used to be my mom's, but she had given me after she had caught me in selfbondage while wearing them) and shiny pink leotard, while waiting for Janice to show up, but I wasn't so sure about that anymore.

"Did you tell Lucille anything?" I ask my sister.

"Tell what?" Margo asks.

"You know, about me getting caught tied-up by mom last Saturday?"

"No, we just chatted during recess, she wanted to know if you were interested in learning ballet, and if you were a good brother to me."

"What else did she ask and what else did you say?"

"Ah, if you want to know more, you will have to endure some 'smell my feet' torture first!" Margo exclaims as she runs off into the house giggling.

Now, my resolve returns. I don't like the smell of my sister's feet, but I do enjoy the predicament. And I also really want to know what Lucille and my sister were saying about me in the school yard, and how exactly I was going to be tied-up while cousin Janice was going to babysit me and my sister for the evening.

(To be continued ... )
Last edited by tiedinbluetights 1 year ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by milagros317 »

Fine continuation! Looking forward to Tuesday night's adventures.
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Post by tiedinbluetights »

Thanks [mention]milagros317[/mention]! Glad you are enjoying it!
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Post by Mommy's Naughty Boy »

I am really enjoying your wonderful story! Can't wait to read about the Tuesday fun!

Thank you for writing and sharing.
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Post by Speedo »

A very nice transition to the next main part, which I am now eagerly awaiting.
What I like about the story is that your younger self reminds me of my younger self. I was about Seb's age when I discovered my love for tied up games, long sleeved leotards and other girls' clothes.
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