Muses 1: Shut Up, Serafina! (fF/F)
The flash of red moves her head up and down, bowing the string carefully. She moves her small fingers in a careful, emotional vibrato (the word for when a string player wiggles their finger on a string). A brilliant crescendo (the volume gets louder) is then followed by a deep and mournful coda as the piece of music ends. The young girl in red pauses and takes deep breaths before she opens her eyes again and lowers the viola. After a long day at work, to come here, relax, and see art at work is just what I need.
“Good job, Tori, but perhaps a little too much vibrato…,” Jenny, the teacher, starts.
“In the intro to the coda,” the girl in red, the student, responds.
“How’d you know that?” I sit captive at a distance and am amazed by their words.
“You just know. It feels out of place with the moment or the notes around it,” the student explains.
“You're getting it down really well!”
“Thanks. Shall I try again?”
Vittoria Randaccio wears a splotchy red skirt to her ankles. Bright white canvas sneakers are on her feet and the feet of her teacher. Her shirt is green and long-sleeved. On her legs are red socks to the knee. Finally, a tie dye splotchy red bandana is a kerchief that keeps her hair far from her eyes. She picks up her bow and instrument and resumes a careful interpretation of the music on her stand, and I swell with pride at my baby sister. There is a deep feeling in how she plays each note, especially the so-called triple and quadruple stops. I watch them as if a spell has been cast on me.
Jenny Kristensen, my future sister-in-law, wears brown sweatpants. Her t-shirt is pink and has short sleeves, and her socks match and are crew cut. Her red kerchief bandana is solid with no patterns. She interrupts occasionally and, with her own violin, explains things to Vittoria. Only humility comes from her despite being the teacher.
I, Serafina Randaccio, lounge on the sofa in the living room while the other two sit in the dining room. Musical instruments confuse me. I can sing very well, but I am not this good. I’m just an alto who loves traditional songs. I wear blue jeans and a Columbus Crew long-sleeve t-shirt, one of many that I own. My kerchief is red and has a paisley pattern, but it is not the western pattern with the flowers. I have black socks and black canvas sneakers.
Oddly, Vittoria has the tie dye western paisley bandana; Jenny has the solid bandana; and I have the regular paisley bandana. All are red. We are Cool Girls’ Club members, but Vittoria is only a “junior member.” We share the love of music, bandanas, and TUGs.
“Heyyyy,” Joy cautions, “I think the problem isn't you. Too much practice. Next.”
“Too much practice?” I just want to understand.
“Look,” Vittoria points at me with her bow, “I tied you up because you wouldn't stop standing over my shoulder.”
“Yeah, shut up already, Sera, or I will shut you up,” Jenny also points with her bow.
“Sera, I love you, but ask questions later,” Vittoria whines.
“But I’ll forget to ask later,” I defend myself.
“Your bandana is too tight, and you squeezed your brains out,” Jenny quips, “Play.”
I was tied up quite tightly at that. Ropes bound me up like a hunk of prosciutto in all the spots that were necessary and unnecessary. My wrists, forearms, and elbows were tied and secured with a breast harness that included ropes on either side of my teats, in a V between my teats, and through my armpits. A rope clamped my arms down to my waist, and they passed it between my legs for an extra restriction. They tied my ankles, knees, and gams; and my thighs are tied in the middle, below my hips, and above my patellae. All of this is done with a harsh brown rope.
I sit up, shake my head in frustration, and lean back. To further restrict my movement, my friend had directly tied my wrists into the crotch rope. That was a typically sneaky tactic of the girl we call Gangsta Princess! I lift my legs into the air and wiggle my feet. Vittoria and Jenny saw on their “big fiddle” and their “fiddle” as Jenny calls them with a giggle.
Vittoria is quite the talent indeed, and her abilities as a violist, a sister, and a TUG buddy all are a source of pride for me. I have already asked her and Jenny to play at my wedding even though I have no date. Vittoria went through much with me when I had a disgusting phase of my life, and she came away loving her big sister more than before. What makes her so special among the three Randaccio sisters is how she still loves with that childlike simplicity even as her emotions mature.
Except for the crotch rope, Vittoria did all of it. She kicked my legs out from under me and then tied my arms so roughly yet lovingly. How cute it was to see the young girl learn from us older girls and use our own tricks against us! Love is something that naturally means much to me as a girl born and raised in Italia.
“That is so pretty,” I say as Vittoria finishes again, “How do you do it?”
“Serafina Arcangela Cherubina Bonifacia Randaccio, that does it. Jenny, your socks please!”
“With pleasure!” my friend kicks her shoes off and quickly rips her socks off.
“You wouldn’t dare!” I say, but I have been pushing for this moment with my actions.
“I do dare,” Vittoria pushes Jenny’s socks into my mouth.
“EWWWW!” I groan at the taste but love it, and Vittoria grabs an orange bandana.
“Take that, Gangsta Chick!” Jenny taunts me while Vittoria pulls the scarf between my teeth.
Dirty laundry gags, particularly other people’s socks, are my favorite, and my loved ones all get a kick out of exploiting this love to stuff dirty socks in my mouth at any opportunity. My only rule is that they must be socks from girls; socks from boys taste a million times worse. Yes, I know this from experience. I know. Don’t judge me.
Vittoria takes no chances. She wraps my face in 7 layers of gray duct tape. The smell excites me in a strange way. I like that smell. It’s the smell of helplessness. I am bound and gagged. There is no chance I will escape. I cannot call for help now; I am trapped. Vittoria has tied and gagged me very well. She loves me and will not let anything bad happen to me. A playful shove lands me on the sofa again while I wail into the gag.
“Mmmmmm mmm mmm mmmmmmm!” I say with satisfaction.
“That’s so much more pleasant,” Jenny smiles at Vittoria.
“Thank you. She’s a prettier sight than you, but you’re more fun as a captive,” Vittoria pushes Jenny’s buttons.
“Well thank you! I agree!” the rope bunny takes her seat again, “Let’s do that exercise again.”
“OK,” Vittoria takes up her viola again.
“Without commentary from Sera.”
I growl at Jenny. She has such a sharp tongue that makes up for her diminutive size. A feisty girl like her who normally is the one tied up is always interesting as the one in charge. She rarely dominates, but her personality takes over in a fun way. I can't wait for her to become my sister-in-law!
I like being tied up, but not like Jenny does. For me, bondage is relaxing because the ropes squeeze your skin. The squeeze forces your body to produce hormones that are like a drug that relaxes me. I still struggle with depression, but with TUGs in my life the depression can be evened off by me regularly engaging in games. It's biochemical and no longer the problem it once was; life is good now!
Unlike Jenny, I have limits to bondage. I love it and can enjoy myself for many hours, but I also enjoy life outside of ropes much differently than she does. For Jenny, the world goes God first, family second, friends third, and TUGs fourth. For me, despite TUGs being fourth, there come days where I do not want to be tied or where I want to be the one on top. I enjoy the games, too, but I want to spend time playing with my son, talking to others, cooking and baking, in the gym, and more things. Jenny, if you give her a choice, will almost always choose to be tied up and left to suffer for a few hours. She knows I see this as a bad thing and, trust, me she is trying her best to adopt a more balanced approach to life.
I want to be troublesome. I want to annoy them. I want to force them to blindfold me and hogtie me and spank me. With a grunt, I roll backward on the sofa and then roll forward with a spring to stand up. Jenny’s socks taste good! I told you not to judge! No! I see that look on your face!
NO. JUDGING. ME. FOR. THAT. Got it? Scacciatura (said “Sca-sha-dool”).
I am now erect. I stretch out to my full height, just 5’5”, but still giant compared to Jenny. It is confusing for me; I know my heights from Italy in centimeters and my heights from America in feet and inches. If you think I am a funny girl, join the club. You have to be ready for me to say more Italian profanity before you are allowed to express those thoughts.
The first hop is the hardest because many minute things change each time from where just one strip of rope lies to how it is cinched. You hop in place on that one. You can be tied the exact same way a dozen times, and each one will be somehow unique. The second hop is the most nerve wracking because I am not sure if I properly understand my bonds yet and do not know if I will maintain my balance. The third is the most confident because now I know what I am doing. The fourth is the smallest because I want to familiarize myself with how far each hop should be. Now I am ready.
I hope that someday you will learn the story of how I won the Winter TUG-lympic snow hop.
First hop in place. Two. Three. Four. Big hop forward. Medium hop forward. Squeal a little in absolute delight at being bound and gagged. Look at the Gangsta Princess, and she scowls at me a bit. Look at Vittoria; she giggles. Two more hops; take a deep breath. Vittoria resumes. Now is the second big hurdle.
Jenny’s living room and dining room are separated only by a banister rail and stair with one step between the level of the dining room and the rest of the residence and that of the living room and all of the first floor of Giulia’s house. That step is a but-na. It is wide enough for most feet, but you have to land on it perfectly. If your toes get the riser, you will bend your knees and roll onto the living room carpet. If insufficient foot lands on the step, you will fall backwards. Jenny does not have this problem because of how small she is. It is harder right now because I am wearing my sneakers.
With a deep breath, I take the hop of faith. Big toes! No! I roll back onto the carpet and launch my legs high into the hair for unnecessary drama and let out a loud groan of anger. At least it is fun when that happens; the other hurts! I lie down and wail pitifully and lie still with my legs in a bent position.
“Would you shut up?” Jenny asks me in her spunky manner, “You’re a cute distraction at least.”
“Mmmmmm!” I enjoy the taste of her socks too much and notice Jenny grabbing a sneaker.
“Be glad I taped your mouth shut, or I’d got next door and borrow Giulia’s!” Vittoria chides me.
“Noooo!” I shake my head, but I like both the thought of getting Giulia’s socks added to the stew and like getting berated when I’m tied up.
“Yes, Serafina,” Jenny sighs, smiles, and stands up, “I love you too. You’re a brat though!”
“Ank ou,” I sit up and shake my curls about before winking at Jenny.
“She’s so much more lovable when she can’t talk!” a toothy grin forms on Vittoria’s face.
I look at the sofa and scrunch back to it with surprising speed. Yes, I am fast in bondage unlike some girls despite being so relaxed and happy. I roll onto my side, scrunch my knees into my chest, roll onto my legs, and push myself up because getting back onto the sofa is essential if I am to stand up again. I am greeted by Jenny; she holds a white sneaker and a roll of vet wrap. I let out a sigh and give Jenny my best puppy eyes. She knows I’m tired.
“Oh… all right,” she cannot resist, “Just take a sniff and know what’s coming if you keep it up.”
“Blugh!” I recoil at the smell of Jenny’s feet, but I like it.
“Be good,” the pushover seats me on the sofa and takes her shoe back with her.
“Why didn’t you just finish her off?” Vittoria asks as if the shoe was a mercy killing.
“She’s too sweet and lovable,” Jenny took a picture of me with her phone like she hadn’t already taken 5 or 6 in addition to at least 2 videos.
“Awwww,” I tried to look as bashful as possible.
As soon as they resume playing, I immediately resume my quest. With a little effort, I kick off my sneakers. I stand up again and repeat my litany of hopping three times before hopping back towards them. Vittoria is too consumed by the viola to notice my approach, and Jenny scowls at me in her typical playful manner. I giggle into her socks and enjoy the leach of the flavor onto my tongue. This time I successfully land on the step and take the extra hop to the upper level.
You try doing this while tied as tightly as I… you’re smirking at the sock bit, aren’t you? I told you not to laugh at me, you sfac-m! You are more than my patience can take, you know that? I am telling you a fun story, and you’re getting a laugh out of my passion for dirty socks.
I hop up behind my Jenny who crossly crosses her arms, joke intended, and looks at me with the most hilarious glare of disapproval I have ever seen at that point. There is nothing threatening at all about Jenny Danielle Kristensen. Underneath that Gangsta Princess exterior is a heart of gold that loves her fellow people with an unsurpassable kindness. Without Jenny’s kind love, I never would have taken the steps to becoming a Cool Girl.
“Well,” Vittoria opened her eyes again and then saw me, “Where’d she come from?!”
“Ah en eer mm um ahl,” I grunted into Jenny’s socks and giggled at the results. NO JUDGING.
“She’s my captive. Give me that vet wrap,” my little sister was suddenly no longer so sweet!
“MMMM!” I groan as she pushes me against the table and begin fighting her
“Hold still!”
SMACK! she spanks me with her eldest sister Giulia’s ferocity.
“MMMMMMMMMM!” I yell and surrender.
The vet wrap wraps around my mouth several times and my chin and upper head several times, partially obscuring my red bandana. She pushes her own shoe against my nose and wraps more of the vet wrap around the shoe and my head, using the already present vet wrap to hold it in by again wrapping around my mouth and again my chin and hair. Now I am smelling Vittoria. She spanks me again and brings me back to the sofa to enjoy the new sensation. No! No judging me!
I am not done, though. I have only gotten a shoe over my nose; I must push more for what I desire. I desire a real spanking and either a hogtie or a blindfold. Both would be perfect. I'm adventurous and crave more. Once again, I am on my feet and doing my epic hop. Hey, I’m getting good at this story telling thing!
I succeed once again, and this time Jenny taps Vittoria to tell her to stop playing. My little sister turns and sees me and carefully puts her instrument back in its case. Once she is done, she stands up and stands with her arms crossed and a cross gaze. I know I am a naughty girl and am going to get what I want.
“Serafina Arcangela Cherubina Bonifacia, you’re disruptive!” Vittoria grabs my arm.
“Mmmm!” I try to resist her, but I am taken away.
“Since you will not stop moving around, I will ensure you stop,” she pushes me onto the sofa.
“Mmmm!” I see her grab another rope.
“Hogtie time! Jenny, would you blindfold her?” she makes me so happy!
“With pleasure,” Jenny grabs a blue bandana,
The hogtie pulls my hands and feet together. The blindfold steals my sight. I have not talked enough about the beauty of such tight bondage. I love the feeling of being so tightly, especially when my elbows touch. My legs are like a hinged club, and my arms are useless because they are so harshly fastened to each other and my body. In a tie as tight as this, I am very happy because I know escape is nearly impossible. I can only trust my loved ones not to do anything harmful to me. The sweat that forms on my body invigorates me. Wasted efforts excite me. Spanking puts me over the moon.
SMACK! SMACK!, “Bad girl!” Vittoria derides me.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!, “MMMMMMM!” I wail from the pain that delightfully sends shocks through my body.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!, she is in complete control of me now and alternates sides, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!, “OWWWWWW!” I like it so much because I cannot stop her.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!, “You have been such a terribly bad girl!”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “Ohhh! Hmm hmm hmmmmm!” I squeal and all the while I enjoy Jenny's socks and baby sister’s sneaker.
Vittoria knows me so well. I never stop resisting in some regard. The ropes are tight, and Vittoria pauses to rework the hogtie. She knots it around my elbows instead of my wrists and pulls me up into a tight, arching hogtie with my knees and face no longer on the ground. I could have so much more done to me, but they stop upon this occasion. I grunt loudly and get a shot of Jenny's feet and a whiff of Vittoria’s.
I let out a loud wail, and all that does is get the girls tickling me instead. I am tired, though, and I surrender and snap my fingers thrice. I cannot endure any more of this; Jenny takes command of the situation. She pauses to take some photos of me before she approaches me in her adorable way. Spanking either exhausts me or pushes me into euphoria (Jenny likes that word), and today it has exhausted me.
“Are you done?”
“Mmm mmm,” I nod slowly.
“OK,” she pets my head slowly, “Vittoria, untie her. I’ll get her head first.”
Never does a release come without some level of disappointment. All those things the ropes do to you immediately start to fade away, and the pain really gets to set in with a vengeance. How good the pain feels depends upon the day. My tushie is sore! I love the feeling of a good spank, and Vittoria is the best in my world at spanking me. There is no one who knows how to get me excited like she does.
When I am free, I slowly push myself off the carpet and sit up and fluff my air while Vittoria and Jenny take post-scene photos and videos because they know I love to study the rope marks to try to understand why I enjoyed a game so much. For me, no matter how dirty the game, it’s all still a game. A few people try to classify them, but it’s all fun nevertheless. TUGs, not bondage.
“You two muses are something else. It’d have been interesting if you’d tied me better,” I taunt them even afterwards.
“I have nothing on next weekend; maybe we can enlist my personal kidnappers services?” Jenny suggests.
“All three of us?!” Vittoria gets excited.
“If our schedules allow, all three of us,” I smile at my little sister.
“Can we, Sera?” I see a sparkle in her eye as she scoots next to me.
“Yes, we can, my love,” I respond with a tight hug, “And thank you for a wonderful evening.”
It was a date! See you then!
THE END
