This tale unfolds four years after the events of its prequel story "Citizen's Arrest: A Dad's Duty".
If you haven't read that story, then follow this link and come back here when you're done: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=4996
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Ever since I'd witnessed my dad tying up and gagging that teen thug who broke into our cottage a few years ago, I'd been itching to experience what it actually felt like to be knotted down and trussed up for a few minutes.
It took a long time for me to work up the courage to open up to my dad, but four years after the events that took place at our country cottage, I finally took a leap of faith and asked him if he'd be willing to tie me up.
He found it a bit weird at first. But then I covered up the truth and told him I needed to experience being helpless for a school essay I was working on. My dad thought my idea was funny, but quickly agreed to rope me up if it would help me get into the mindset of the character I told him I was supposed to write about.
Of course, it was all a lie.
There was no essay, but he didn't have to know that.
We talked for a bit and after asking me how I wanted to be tied up, it was decided that he'd restrain me exactly like he'd restrained the kid who'd broken into our place back when I was a teen.
In other words, I was gonna be tied down to a chair with a SHIT TON of rope!
Dad took about an hour to tie me up.
He lived by the motto "If you're gonna do something, then do it right the first time" and his ropework easily reflected that.
At first, he had me standing up.
He ordered me to stand straight and made me cross my hands behind my back.
I happily complied and silently prayed he wouldn't notice the growing bulge in my jeans as he roped me up, from top to bottom.
The ropework was extremely tight and more than a little excessive, to tell you the truth.
He took pride in his knots and was triple-knotting everything down to make sure I couldn't get away or wiggle free.
I was in heaven.
After checking my bonds to make sure everything was snug, he sat me down on one of the kitchen chairs and grabbed some more rope before beginning the arduous task of trussing me down to my seat.
The thick cotton rope was wrapped around me, around and around my already-restrained body.
By the time he was done, I couldn't move more than a micron in any direction.
My arms and hands were hopelessly knotted up behind my back, and my legs and body were being crushed down to the sturdy, steel-framed chair. My dad's ropework was flawless. And best of all, it was crazy tight.
"There we go. You're not going anywhere, kiddo." he chuckled, ruffling my hair up like he used to back when I was a boy.
He spent a bit of time checking my knots and making sure I was secure and comfortable.
I was, and he seemed quite satisfied with his work.
When he left, I assumed he'd be leaving me alone so that I could fully immerse myself in my character's thoughts for a bit.
After all, this whole experience was to help me write my essay, remember?
I was quickly proven wrong when my dad entered the room about a minute later, this time with two large bandanas over his shoulder and a rather large-looking wad of cloth in his left hand.
"Time for your gag, son." he chuckled, slowly approaching my position and crumpling up the giant bundle of white cloth with his set of thick, calloused fingers.
"Aww, dad. Come on. I don't need to be gagged." I protested, doing my best to make my plea sound genuine even though it wasn't.
Luckily for me, my father didn't back down one bit.
"I don't wanna hear it. You wanted to feel what being helpless felt like, then you're gonna be gagged. No prisoner of mine is gonna be left tied up without a proper stuffing in his mouth." he added, chuckling mildly as he continued his approach.
I struggled and pretended to wanna break free, but my captor just laughed.
He ruffled my hair up again and placed his large hand behind the back of my head before bringing his other hand in front of my face and presenting me with the enormous wadding he wanted to stuff my mouth with.
"Open up." the tall, forty-seven-year-old man ordered, causing me to grunt in frustration and eye the massive ball of cloth with both fear and apprehension.
There was no way that thing was gonna fit inside my mouth, I thought to myself.
Not seeing any alternative and secretly wanting to get this part of my dream fulfilled, I opened my mouth up and allowed my father to stuff his giant cloth into my waiting orifice.
And stuff it, he did!
I received no apology, nor any type of approving remark.
The tall, middle-aged construction worker simply clamped his hand around the back of my head and forced the massive wadding straight in.
I was given no time to adjust to the size of my gag either.
My eyes went wide and my toes and fingers instinctively wiggled to life as the strong man's large fingers forced me to cope with the jumbo stuffing.
I coughed and gagged, but dad just used his fingers to push the fat bundle further in, plugging the back of my mouth up and filling my cheeks up until they were full to bursting.
The thick wad was still partially sticking outta my mouth when my dad grabbed one of the red bandanas from his left shoulder and stretched it over the cloth that was left poking out from between my overstretched lips.
I watched as he circled to the back of the chair and expertly pulled the cleave gag behind my head, twirling the ends of the bandana and knotting it furiously tight so that I couldn't spit the thick stuffing out.
"Mmmmpphff..." I protested, gagging as my bulging cheeks were pressed tight, and choking on the massive ball of cloth that was now being forced deeper into my badly overstuffed mouth.
"There. Nice and tight." my dad muttered, ruffling my hair up before grabbing the remaining bandana from off his shoulders and positioning it squarely over my lower face.
I felt his large, red bandana tighten around my cleave gagged mouth, then felt my dad's fingers work a knot behind the back of my head.
The knot was pulled tight and the bandana gag grew a LOT tighter, even further muffling my protests.
Satisfied with the tightness of the gag, my dad secured the knot by doubling it and then tripling it to make sure it wouldn't come undone.
Then he went about doing his own things, leaving me utterly trussed up and with no way to let him know I'd had enough.
The first hour or so was okay. But as time went by, I became a little restless and actually wanted out.
That's when I became aware of just how effective my dad's cloth gags actually were.
I tried calling him and tried telling him I was ready to be let go.
Imagine the frustration I felt when my attempts to mouth off were halted by the impenetrable muffling gag.
I tried to spit it out and even tried using my tongue to try and compress the damnable thing.
But there was no talking around it.
My father's massive stuff gag easily kept my protests at bay and stopped me from getting even the most insignificant of peeps out.
This was incredibly frustrating!
Frustration eventually grew into anger and desperation as the buzzing of my cellphone became more and more frequent.
I was supposed to be going out with friends tonight and had no way to warn my dad that I had plans for the evening.
Another hour went by and I was still unable to grab my phone or make any progress in undoing even a single one of his knots.
My dad came in to check on me several times.
I screamed at him and frantically tried to let him know I was supposed to meet up with my friends in town.
But the enormous cloth stuffing did a wonderful job of shutting me up and keeping my otherwise loud protests to a minimum.
"Still haven't broken free yet?" he chuckled, checking my knots and playfully ruffling my hair up.
I yelled at him and angrily demanded to be set free.
My dad just laughed.
"What's that? Tryin' to call for help? Haha! Good luck with that, kiddo." he teased, giving me a light tap on the cheek before turning around and walking away.
I was left there, thoroughly trussed and gagged on the steel-framed chair for a total of SIX excruciatingly long, frustrating hours!
Unable to move anything but my fingers and toes, and unable to get a single word out past that big, muffling ball of cloth my father had forced inside my mouth, I could do nothing but just sit there and be silent while he went about and did his business.
For the first time in my life, I felt absolutely helpless.
I'd waited years to experience what that poor Jonah fellow had gone through after my dad had wrestled him to the ground and forcefully arrested him.
I'd waited years to have my freedoms removed by these seemingly endless coils of rope, and had spent countless nights fantasizing about what it would feel like to have my dad forcefully stuff some giant cloth inside my mouth.
Now I finally knew what that teen burglar-boy must've felt like when we arrested him.
And you know what?
I actually enjoyed it.