And now the third segment of my friend Julia's stories from her childhood.
Hi friends, I hope you enjoyed the first two parts of my story. I had to stop writing for a while at the end of part 2, just as my brother Michael and I had been caught in flagrante delicto by Mom in a tie up game gone wrong. Mom knew at least in general that we were playing tie up games, and she pretty much tolerated it as long as we were careful to be safe and we only played games we both wanted to play and we didn't break anything. The issue this time was the rule about not breaking anything; we had just broken two things, a big new glass jar of jam and that rule.
Mom turned off the TV set and she glared at Michael. I was still finishing up getting my rope handcuffs untied from Michael's wrists. Michael looked so embarrassed and guilty I thought he was going to die. He was only wearing his briefs, which really wasn't unusual when we were in our hot, stuffy, apartment (no air conditioning!) with only family around. I was also minimally clothed, in just a little tank top undershirt and my panties.
Mom looked into the paper bag on the floor, which was already damp from the jam that was oozing from the broken glass jar. Then she glared at me. Obviously I was the one who had tied up Michael, so that made me the most guilty of all. One thing that we absolutely did not do in our family was to waste food, so the broken jam jar was a major violation.
Mom could have a bit of a temper at times, but all in all she was a loving mother and she was generally pretty quick to forgive, especially when our mishap had been accidental (which it was, mostly) and when we were sincerely remorseful. I wasn't remorseful about the tie up games, of course, but both Michael and I felt very bad about the mess and the waste of good food. There was another family rule we had. When we were in trouble for something, Michael and I were expected to answer everything with complete honesty. In exchange, Mom and Dad would always be a little bit more lenient that they might otherwise have been. All in all it was a good bargain, and we all honored it.
Mom's questioning began just as I finished getting the last of the rope off of Michael. I was the one in the hot seat, so it was my turn for complete honesty. The first question was why had I tied Michael up like that, with so much rope? I confessed my desire to tie him up so well that he wouldn't be able to get out without help, but that I hadn't yet succeeded at this. The next question was why I wanted to tie Michael up that way? Was I mad at him, or getting him back for something, or trying to be mean? The answer to all of these was a clear no. Mom watched my eyes and Michael's carefully as I spoke. It was the truth and there seemed to be little doubt. So what was my reason then. I'm not quite sure why it was a little bit embarrassing for me to tell Mom the honest answer, but I told her. It was because I wanted Michael to also be able to tie me up so well that I couldn't get out without help. I told Mom I was very frustrated because no matter how much rope I used, it was never enough and Michael would still get out. And the same thing happened when he tied me up. Mom didn't seem pleased, but she also didn't seem really mad like when she walked in the door and first saw that broken glass jar.
Mom's last question for me was whether Michael ever hurt me or ever tied me up against my wishes. Finally I had gotten an easy question that was easy to answer honestly. "No and no!" Mom asked Michael the same question, with the same answer. Then Mom got a bit of a funny look on her face that was almost seemed like a sly little smile that she tried to hide.
Then Michael got the hot seat. How did the jar get broken. He told her honestly that he was thrashing to get out of the ropes and he lost his balance and fell into the chair. "Really?" I knew Michael wanted to be honest but he didn't want to blame me. So I jumped in. "Actually I knocked the chair over. Michael was going to fall into it and I jumped in and pushed the chair so he wouldn't get hurt." Mom returned to questioning Michael, "so is that the way it happened?" "Yes", Michael said somewhat sheepishly. The next question was on why he was thrashing around so much. Michael told her that was just his way of playing the game; the challenge was for him to get out of my ropes, and he would do it by thrashing around.
Mom asked if either of us had anything else to say. Michael didn't say anything. I asked if we were in big trouble. Mom was guarded in her answer. She said she wasn't happy that we had broken the jam jar and wasted food. And no more TV for the rest of the day. And we were to have some time to sit and think about our behavior.
"Sit and think" was Mom and Dad's language for what parents these days call a "time out". They didn't believe in spanking; they considered that too violent and uncivilized. We didn't have anything like a "naughty chair" or a "designated corner". When we had been bad, Mom would point to a spot on the floor, and we were to sit there until she decided it had been long enough. Our floor was kind of nasty old hard wood, not carpeted, but there were some rugs in a few strategic places. The biggest, softest, nicest rug was in front of the couch, filling the space between the couch and the TV (which was about all the living room space we had in our little apartment). Mom pointed to one end of the rug and looked at me. My designated "sit and think" spot. Then she pointed to the opposite end of the rug and looked at Michael.
So there we sat on our rug, still in just our underwear. If anything, it had gotten a littler hotter and more humid since we had gotten home from school, so as far as I was concerned, the less clothing the better. We were expected to sit still and to remain silent. Mom or Dad might say things to us, but we were not to speak unless it was to answer a direct question from one of them.
Mom had no questions for us. She picked up the bag with the broken jar and set it in the sink. She cleaned up the sticky spot on the floor and took the bag again. She muttered something about a feast for the raccoons and the rats and headed downstairs to take the bag to the garbage. After we heard her close the garbage can in the alley, she came back upstairs and gathered up the pile of ropes and took them back downstairs to her sewing shop.
Michael and I sat and looked at each other. We both felt bad about the wasted jam and about getting Mom upset. I had a minor bruise from our fall, but it wasn't anything bad. Michael had one too. My biggest fear of all was that Mom would put an end to our tie up games. In any case, I think we both expected Mom would do as she usually did when we had messed up, which was to leave us sitting for a while (with no TV) while she worked in her sewing shop. Eventually she'd come back, decide we had learned our lesson, and we would be free to go play quietly.
Today was different; after just a couple of minutes we heard Mom coming back up the stairs. I had my back to her so I couldn't see, and I didn't dare turn around. She set something down on the table behind me and walked over to Michael. She was holding something that was kind of a thick cloth disk, sort of like a hockey puck but a little smaller in diameter and thicker. It looked like it was made of heavy khaki canvas, which was a familiar material to us because of Mom's frequent jobs repairing large tents.
Mom unrolled it and it turned out it was actually a cloth strap. It was short, only about a foot long. Mom went over to Michael and she told him it would probably help him to make better choices if he had more time to sit quietly and be still and think, and she had a way to help him do this. She told him to sit on the floor on his bottom and bend his legs so his knees were up high. Then she had him lean forward against his thighs. She had him reach under his knees to clasp his hands together. Then she told him to unclasp his hands, and she pushed his elbows from the sides tight against his knees, so his wrists overlapped under his knees.
For all my fascination with tie up games and stories, I completely failed to anticipate what was about to happen. Once Michael's wrists were next to each other, Mom put the cloth strap around them. There was some kind of metal fastener on the end of the strap, but with a metal jaw with fine teeth instead of a buckle. Mom threaded the strap through the fastener and pulled it so it was tight and secure. Mom squeezed something on the fastener and we heard a snap. Then she slid the strap around his wrists just a little bit so there was no metal touching Michael's skin.
Michael looked completely astonished, but he knew the rule to remain silent unless asked a direct question, so he just sat there, with his wrists strapped together under his knees, basically hugging his legs to his chest. And with that strap securing his wrists together, there was no way he could let go of that hug.
The Mom went back to the table behind me and reappeared with a second, identical strap. "Same position as your brother" she told me. Now I got what was happening. I couldn't believe it, but I assumed the position, probably a little bit too eagerly. Mom put the strap around my wrists, pulled it snug, squeezed, and I heard the fastener snap, and she similarly adjusted my strap.
So now Michael and I were both kind of like little balls sitting on the floor in our underwear. Our wrists were secured behind our knees, so we were hugging our thighs up to our chests. The straps kept us from pulling our wrists out, and with our wrists behind our bent knees we couldn't straighten our legs either, so we were stuck on the floor.
I wanted to say something, but Michael was giving me a warning look that could have burned right through me and the wall behind me, so I remained silent.
Mom went back to Michael, and slipped her little finger between the strap and his wrists, to make sure it wasn't too horribly tight. Then she did exactly the same little safety check for me.
Mom spoke a few more words. She told us she had important work to finish, and she wasn't happy that we had broken the jar and she wasn't happy that we had interrupted her work. She said that we were to sit quietly until she came back for us. She said she was leaving the door wide open so that if there was a serious emergency, we should yell and she would run back upstairs from her shop, but otherwise, we were to stay put and stay out of trouble. She added, with kind of a smirk, "and don't turn on the TV".
Then Mom went back down to her shop. Whatever she was working on was quiet; we didn't hear the loud sewing machine again. We didn't dare talk or even make a sound as that would violate the "sit and think" punishment rules.
I began to methodically investigate my predicament. I tried to pull my arms apart but the strap around my wrists was too tight. With my hands pointing in opposite directions with my wrists crossed, I couldn't get my fingers anywhere near the strap or its fastener. I'm very flexible, so I could bend forward and bring my knees to my face, but with the strap on my wrists behind my knees, there was no way to use my teeth on it.
I tried to see if I could slip my arms along my legs and pop my butt through, which would at least get me out of this balled up position, but with my wrists overlapped my arms weren't even close to long enough for this.
The situation sank in for me. With a little one foot canvas strap, Mom had secured me in a way that left me really and truly helpless. I was not getting out of this until she let me out. Twelve silly inches of a canvas strap had accomplished what Michael and I had failed to do with a hundred feet of strong rope.
Although Michael was certainly a wonderful tie up game playmate (and a wonderful big brother), Mom had demonstrated her vastly superior skills. I was so excited to be strapped up like this. And I wondered if Mom was really intending for this to be a punishment. If so, it was especially wonderfully naughty, since I was having the most fun I could imagine with something that was supposed to be a punishment.
I looked over at Michael. He didn't seem nearly as happy as I was. He did genuinely like tie up games, although obviously not as much as me. I think he was still upset about him falling and us breaking the jar and making Mom unhappy.
We were missing a favorite TV show. Michael and I both looked over at the TV set. Of course it would have been a major violation of our "sit and think" time to turn on the TV, but we both thought about that option, and we both recognized the complete impossibility of it.
I'm guessing either of us could have scooted on the floor little by little to get over to the table where the TV was. But since we were both stuck on the floor with our wrists strapped like this, there was no way we would be able to get up or reach up to get to the on/off switch, which was on the volume control up at the very top corner of the TV.
I though about whether Michael and I might be able to scoot together, and maybe one of us could help the other to escape, but I doubted it. The final "click" when Mom secured each strap made me think they must have somehow been locked into place, although that hardly mattered since whatever mechanism was securing my strap was tucked in behind my knees, definitely way out of my reach and probably not something Michael could help with even if we worked together.
Mom left us on the floor strapped up and helpless like that for about twenty minutes. The she came back upstairs to assess the situation. Michael got the first question. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Michael responded very humbly, "I'm sorry we were playing too rough and I'm sorry I broke the jam made a mess and wasted food." Mom seemed satisfied, and she went over to Michael and reached behind his knees and did something and it sounded like a snap getting unsnapped. Mom took the strap off Michael's wrists and he was free. He stood back up and sat on the couch. Then she came over to me, "And what about you, Miss?" I was having fun being strapped up like this and I was feeling very mischievous. "I didn't think it was possible to tie somebody up with just a little strap like this." Mom answered with her own observation, "And I thought this would be long enough for Michael to learn his lesson, but probably not long enough for you, and I was right."
Mom gave her sly little smile again and she turned to Michael. "I need to finish some work at my sewing machine, and I don't want any more trouble from Julia, so I'll need you to keep a close watch on her. I don't think she'll be able to make too much trouble for you like this. Take good care of her and call me if there is an emergency."
And Mom disappeared back down the steps to her shop, leaving me in just my little white cotton undershirt and panties, all strapped up in a ball and completely helpless and defenseless. And completely at the mercy of Michael. Which was exactly what I wanted most of all. Better still, a minute after Mom left, her noisy sewing machine started, which meant that Michael could give me the full treatment without us risking being heard.
Michael scooped me up off the floor into his arms and carried me to the couch. He put me down gently on it, sat next to me, and pulled me onto his lap. "So Mom says I have to keep an eye on you for being so naughty!" Michael had stopped feeling sad about the mishap and he was obviously playful again. And since he had just experienced being strapped into a ball like that himself, he knew just how completely helpless I was. I was kind of going crazy in my head about it too. Here I was, stripped down to my underwear, strapped up and helpless and there was absolutely no way I could get out without help. And Michael could do anything he wanted to me and there wouldn't be a thing I could do to defend myself. My tie up fantasies were running wild.
Michael told me he thought I was so naughty I should get a spanking. Getting a spanking was entirely a fantasy game of my invention. We were a "no hitting, no spanking" family, no exceptions. At least in real life. However, some of our friends at school didn't have it so good, and my naughty curiosity about what it was like to be spanked got the best of me. Earlier this year, as I was working to spice up our games, I eventually got Michael to role play with me. I'd be a very naughty girl, and he would have no choice but to give me a spanking. At first he absolutely hated the idea, but I really am wild and crazy and when he saw how much fun I had with it, his resistance faded. He let me spank him too, almost too easily; I think he felt less guilty when it was reciprocal.
Since I had broken something and gotten us in trouble with Mom, the "rules of play" that I had made up meant that I essentially had a "mandatory sentence" of a good spanking. Michael used a couple of couch pillows and rolled me around so I was face down across his lap with my bottom up in the air. He gave me a couple of little love swats on my bottom. My thin cotton panties offered essentially no protection. Of course Michael didn't want to hurt me; he was playing along with my game. And I was loving every second of it. He ramped up to actually giving me some pretty good swats that were stinging. I struggled against the strap holding my wrists together, mostly to reassure myself that I really couldn't escape. And my hands were also completely useless like that for defending my vulnerable bottom. Michael spanked me pretty hard, until it was almost too much, but not quite. Exactly the way I wanted it. He finished up with a couple more little love swats and then he rolled me around so I was face up again.
With me tied up in a ball, Michael couldn't really hug me in the usual way, so he just pulled himself on top of me on the couch and wrapped his arms all around me and squeezed me and kissed me on the forehead. Then he sat me back up on the couch and snuggled up next to me for a few minutes, as we both unwound from the spanking. Soon, Michael was ready to administer my next punishment, which was to be a severe tickle torture. Being curled up into a ball made some parts of me hard to reach and others very vulnerable. Michael pulled up my undershirt to get better access to my very sensitive tummy and ribs. He went to my bed and got my sleep mask and put it on me, so I wouldn't be able to see where his next touch would be. He ever so lightly, gently, teasingly checked me out all over for ticklishness. The sides of my tummy just below my ribs and my bare feet proved to be especially sensitive, so he gave them the most attention. I laughed my head off, but with Mom's loud sewing machine running, nobody could hear us.
Once Michael finished up my tickle torture, I got another round of wonderful hugging and cuddling. In a few more minutes, we heard Mom's sewing machine stop. Michael pulled my shirt back down and put my sleep mask away. Mom soon reappeared in the apartment. She found us cuddled up together on the couch, which was completely normal for us (except for the fact that I was strapped up into a little ball). She came over to me, "I hope you've learned your lesson now, Miss Houdini!", and she gave me that sly little smile again. Mom had obviously figured out just how much I liked the tie up games, and she was apparently willing to play along somewhat. Then Mom released the strap and let me out. I got up and hugged her and I hugged Michael, and that was the end of my "punishment".
My excitement didn't fade out at all that evening. I was unusually wound up (even for me), practically bouncing off the walls of our little apartment. Mom and Dad and Michael all got lots of extra hugs from me. I told Mom the extra hugs were because I was sorry about the broken jam jar. By this point, Mom had figured out how much I liked to play tie up games, especially when I was the one tied up by somebody I loved and trusted. And I'm sure she knew that's why I was so excited and bubbly that evening. But she liked everyone to be happy, and that made her happy too. She told me I was her crazy girl and she loved me. She gave me lots of extra hugs too, and so did Dad. That was definitely an afternoon to remember for me!
I hope you liked part 3! Let me know if you want me to keep going!
Hugs and squeezes!