These days I get tied up quite a bit more than the average person, tales I hope to tell in the future. I also enjoy my time tied up... this wasn't always the case.
The following is a tale of my very first time getting tied up, at least as accurate as I can remember from my 10 year old brain. Names changed for privacy.
It was a typical Aussie summers day, my best friend Peter and I had just gotten back to his house after a very sweaty bike ride to the corner store. We discarded our shoes at the door, both peter and I dressed in shirts and shorts though I had kept my socks on. After devouring a much deserved lunch we moved to the lounge where Peter's older brother Alan and his friend Charlie were playing games. The older pair were friendly enough to us, though the significant age gap kept us apart whenever I came over. Today it was the sweet relief of the aircon that brought us together.
The lounge room consisted of a large L-piece sofa, a single recliner, and a sturdy coffee table all facing the (at the time) large TV. Alan had claimed the recliner, Charlie sat towards the forward most end of the L-piece (intently focused on the game at hand). Peter took a spot on the L-piece just behind the coffee table. I being a little gremlin took up my normal position under the coffee table. Laying on my stomach propped up on my elbows I was able to play videogames very effectively, more importantly the table offered protection from the freezing aircon that pelted me.
To put things in perspective, at 10 years of age I was TINY while Peter was almost as tall as his mother. His whole family were quite tall to be honest, off memory as of today he's well over 6 foot. His brother and friend were quite the bulks too standing like giants to me. Generally after a few minutes of cooling down I would be ready to adjust the temperature to non-freezing ranges, this never happened hence why I often lay under the table. We watched them play for about half an hour before they relented and allowed us to all play together.
Despite loving the outdoors the constant summer heat kept me indoors playing videogames most of the time, the many hours I put into them made me rather good at a wide range of games. The game we played today was Super Smash Bros. a competitive free for all fighter. The mood was fun for about the first three rounds. Typically gave me a handicap as I was but a wee small girl. Three straight wins meant they were ready to go hard for a win... They did not win.
Now I was and am a pretty humble person but when I get invested in a videogame I can be a bit of a brat. No matter how many times we played I still won, worse still I did not hold back on the gloating. There are few things that can cripple a teenage boys pride better than an obnoxious little girl demolishing them in a game of their choosing. Add another teenage boy and his younger brother and you got yourself a very problematic situation. Charlie was the first to give up and abandon the fight in favour of raiding the fridge. Either by fortune or necessity he returned with a roll of tape.
As I continued to demoralise the others Charlie approached my feet. Grabbing one foot he lifted my ankle and taped it to a corner of the coffee table. I retaliated as expected, kicking and yelling. He explained he was evening the playing field, for every win he would restrain me further. I settled down and confidently agreed the terms. Another win earnt me a further restrained ankle to the other corner. A third and he taped my left wrist to the front corner of the table. For context the table is about as long as I was tall (hands above my head) and about twice my width. Even with a hand down I was able to twist my upper body to keep the controlled and my other hand together. It was close but I eventually lost, reluctantly I admitted defeat though still with an obnoxious quip. It was Alan who approached me next, with a grin on my face I readied myself for release.
Alan pulled my right arm up and held it to the corner of the table where Charlie taped it up. I was now pulled in a somewhat spread-eagle position, though a skydiving position is more apt. Only my stomach was touching the ground all my limbs were pulled up and away from my body. Being a gymnast this did not hurt me, the restraints did not please me however. I yelled and screamed trying in vain to rip my limbs out of their bonds. I wasn't exactly scared but I was a little unnerved at this approach. Deviously Alan placed a strip over my mouth. If you've any experience with tape as a gag you'll know it comes off quite easily without proper measures. It kept me quiet for a moment, mostly due to the novelty of being gagged for the first time. A quick lick of my lips was more than enough to dislodge it followed by a barrage of cheeky gloating from me... you'd think I'd learn.
Charlie took lead and wrapped the tape around my head and mouth three times taking no care of my hair in the process. This was a significantly better gag, I screamed through it only met by laughs from the boys. I struggled and squirmed to their amusement as they laughed and continued to play without me. At some point we had all grown bored of my predicament, I gave up on struggling and the boys became more interested in the game than me. Peter who had only been an observer the entire time had now grown bored of loosing to the other boys and after a time and allowed them to play another game on co-op. While we watched them Peter began prodding me with his foot, earning non-amused grunts from me. He continued his action until he rubbed his foot along the sole of mine, I giggled into my gag signalling the start of a new game.
Peter run his foot over mine repeatedly as my giggles turned to squeals of laughter. His amusement continued as he peeled the sock of my right foot, I felt the cold air instantly run over my foot and between my toes. The tickling was far more intense this time as I writhed in ticklish agony under the table. With the removal of my other sock his attack area doubled, sending me into a frenzy. Along the way his fingers entered the mix further amplifying my torment. Decency prevailed when Alan told him to go easy on me, not sure if it was him being kind to me or if he was simply sick of my squeals. The tickling died down and I was able to gather my self somewhat. For once I was no longer cold, warm from my unorthodox exercise.
Over the next half-hour Peter continued to tickle me in bursts, experimenting with quick attacks to my toes with his fingers and slow deliberate scratches on my soles. I was able to twist my body occasionally to peer behind me making eye contact with my tormentor, I'm sure he enjoyed the angry glares I shot him as much as my laughter. It neared time for me to go back home and he knew it. As a final insult he left for the office, returning with a blue whiteboard marker.
I screamed bloody murder through my gag as he walked past my head towards my feet. Alan and Charlie took note of my rather intense tonal change, looking to see the commotion they stood up and walked behind me too. I twisted enough to see Alan crouch behind me and grab my left foot. The cool wet tip of the marker drove me to insanity near instantly, it danced over the sole of my foot with deliberate regularity. (I can't explain why but tickle torture with a writing implement it infinitely more horrendous than anything else, probably the feeling that you've been reduced to a nothing more than a canvas for others is what does it). The torture continued to other parts of my feet and toes over what felt like hours. Eventually they left a teary eyed me to hang and rest of a little bit before cutting me loose.
It was all done in fun and I did somewhat enjoy the event but my displeasure was still evident. The tape wound over my head and hair was particularly painful to remove and definitely pulled a few strands loose. I got apologies from them all, I retorted with more bratty quips. Before putting my shoes back on I checked my feet for traces of defilement. All my toes had little smiley faces on them, a Teddy bear adorned the sole of my right foot, likely the work of Alan who was a talented artist. A bunch of super-S' (the funny graffiti S everyone draws) were plastered over my left foot, and a poorly drawn snake drawn from the base of my right heel that wound it's way over the top of my foot around my ankle rounded up the boys artistic torture.
I rode home, sure to keep my socks on so mum and dad didn't see the blue mess my feet were. After dinner I jumped into the bath for a very thorough clean. I can tell you from experience that marker pen is very hard to rub off and I spent a good forty minutes scrubbing my feet clean as it turned the water a dark blue. It didn't occur to me until I dressed for bed that all my struggling had left subtle marks on my wrists and ankles, they thankfully cleared by morning, not that I think my parents noticed or cared, kids will be kids.
Thanks for reading. This was my first proper story, any feedback is welcome. I hope to write more in the future on my more recent experiences
