Intermission. (insert on-hold music)
Authors confession. I’ve never shared this, or any other, story of mine. And now that I’m a little bit older, and a little bit wiser, I think I know why. Shame. Plain and simple. I think things are changing. I like to think mostly for the better. Mostly… One very clear memory of mine from when I was very young was being with a bunch of guys rifling through dirty magazines. Someone held up a picture of an absolutely gorgeous woman who was spread eagle on a bed with a brass frame. Handcuffs to each post held her wrists and ankles to their respective positions. I gazed in pure wonder and imagined her struggling against her cuffed imprisonment. I thought, oddly, that I wished that were me. Then with a gfaw the guys all snorted at how gross and disgusting that was. Again in later years when I was older, I heard my friends respond very negatively to bondage magazines in the local sex + bachelor party supplies store. So I’ve never been comfortable nor had anyone to share related thoughts and stories with. My point here is not about me, but about any of you who may feel similar pressures or shame from others about your kink, whatever it may be, to which I say ‘fuck em – fuck em all’.
Continued . . .
I opened my eyes and looked Sarah right in the face and said “are you done?”. She smiled. “No, what makes you think we’re done?”. She put a hand on my chest, lifted herself up half way and turned to face away from me. She kneeled back down with her legs on the outsides of mine, squeezed and pulled mine together between hers. She bent forward and Leslie handed her another strip of rope. I recognized this rope as the one we used as a yard-leash for our Doberman. “I’m not a dog” I said as though it were not obvious. Sarah ignored me and wrapped my ankles and using the same rope managed a cinch and tied a knot which left some six feet or more of extra rope loose. Leslie said I looked pretty. I looked up at her “pretty?!”. She laughed. Makeup has a smell and a feel. I love the smell. I always have. I have ideas why but I’m sure some therapy could get to the bottom of that, eventually. The feel is something you get used to quickly enough. For those of you men who have not worn makeup for whatever reason. It’s a thing. Just sayin’.
My shoulders went up and down as I tried to get some slack in my wrists. Nothing gave. Sarah was still on my lap but was now looking back at me. “Can you get out” she asked, sounding just a little too sure of herself. I answered with all confidence that I could. Leslie said “I don’t think so, I think we got you good this time.”. I did a hip thrust and launched Sarah off of my lap so that I could do that thing where you run your hands under you, tuck your knees in and pry your legs through the loop made by your bound wrists. With my bound wrists in front of me, I was confident I could bite or wiggle them off as usual. Before I got very far however, Leslie recognized what I was doing. She said to Sarah “Don’t let him get his hands in in front of himself!” and fetched yet another length of rope. It was a yellow nylon rope. I hated that rope. It was thick, inflexible, and always caused burns. It was for the laundry line. In all fairness, it should have been forbidden from the Tie em’ Up game. It way too long and was also bad for knots. You could tie a knot, pull it tight with two people yanking on it and the knot would just undo itself when the tension was released. Like it didn’t want to be knotted. It also hurt my teeth. Hated that rope, have I mentioned that?
Sarah jumped back on my lap and wouldn’t let me do the butt lift trick. I started to buck harder but she was solid and yielded very little. While I was trying to get Sarah off of my lap, Leslie took the yellow rope and made three or so loops around my neck with it. She started to tie a knot but only got half way through before I got Sarah knocked to the floor. I started to get my wrists under me and Leslie pulled upwards on the yellow rope that was around my neck. She pulled hard enough that it hurt and choked me. That was quite unlike Leslie. She would never intentionally hurt me. She kept pulling until I stood up. Leslie haned Sarah one end of the rope and told her to pull it tight. Sarah walked in the opposite direction until her rope was taught. Meanwhile Leslie had walked out the back door of the garage until her length of rope was taught too. Leslie wrapped the rope tightly around her fist and said “C’mere” as she pulled me out to the back yard. Sarah followed her lead and kept her end tight as well. I tried to stop but Leslie just yanked on the rope and I hopped in her direction to avoid choking or falling. Sarah laughed “This is fun! He can’t do anything unless we let him”. She was right. I could feel my neck burning and it was pinching in a very uncomfortable way.
This was in the suburbs of a very small town. They were dragging me right past the neighbor's house, but nobody saw or if they did, nobody reacted to these two girls tugging their now boy-slave through the back yard. I proclaimed that my parents would be home soon and we would all get in trouble. Leslie didn’t stop, she didn’t even look back at me – she just kept on dragging me through the yard. Well now it’s obvious but then it wasn’t. In the back yard was a Jungle Jym. It wasn’t anything fancy. Really it was a glorified swing. Monkey bars across the top, a trapeze hanging off one side and a couple of swings in the middle as best I can remember it. A big difference between this and a regular swing set would be how it was set into the ground. A swingset is typically an A-frame with a bar across the top where this would be more of an H frame with two bars across the top which made the monkey bars. I really had no idea when my parents would be home. I never really did unless they gave a specific time to be home by. It seemed like a good way to get them to let me go. Not so much.
When Leslie got to the jungle jym, she wrapped the rope she was holding around one of the supporting bars and told Sarah to the the same on the other side. They then tugged and pulled until I was centered between the poles and they the made a mess of knots. Sarahs came loose right away but Leslie went over and made several loops and then lifted her body off the ground as she heaved with her legs to tighten the knots. Sarah thanked her and said, “ahh crap, I’ve gotta go, MY parents WILL be home soon!”. She started to jog off, paused, came back and looked me over. She flicked the rope that went from post to my neck to the other post. “Can you get out?” she said with huge smile. I was getting tired and a little tired of the game at this point. “Yes! I’m sure I can” was my response. She walked off and called back “ohhhkay, I was going to help you out but neverrrrrrrmiiiind”. Right, I’m sure she was.
Side story. Brief. Sarah and I played show me yours, and I’ll show you mine about a week earlier. Sarah was naughty. Leslie was nice. Sarah was a shorter blonde. She had long hair and was always bouncy. One day she and I were alone playing. I can’t remember the exact details but we were under a blanket on lawn chairs I think, and she said: “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” I had no idea what we were showing, but I didn’t want to sound stupid. She pulled her shorts down quickly and showed me her private parts. I looked. I looked again. “Now show me yours,” she said. I don’t have one of those. Oh, show you what I do have. I dropped my shorts and showed her mine. She smiled and looked at mine for a while. She pointed, “can I touch it?”. “I don’t know, can I touch yours?” I responded. She said “sure.” We waited a few seconds. She reached out slowly and gave a poke. “Huh..” she said. I reached out and gave her a poke. “huh…”. She said “don’t tell Leslie; she might get upset. Okay?”. It seemed like quite a non-event, but of course, I agreed. “Our little secret?” she asked. “Yes, sure, yes” I said over because she was giving the classic ‘I mean it’ look.
It was just Leslie and I now. I tried to sit and the ropes tightened. I tried to hop, but I couldn’t get anywhere. Leslie watched and showed me her hands. “what?!” I said. She danced around, “you need my help don’t you?” I looked one way at the ropes and knots. Then the other way. In hindsight even if I could get my wrists free I’m still not sure it would have done any good. No way I was going to reach the points where the ropes were tied. Maybe they would have come free with some good hard tugging. That yellow rope had a mind of its own and hated being knotted, but for the love of Christ, Leslie had put some major effort into making sure those knots were tight. While only a half knot for the rope around my neck, I doubt I would have been able to get enough slack to get a loop over my head. Maybe. It didn’t matter though. Step one still would have been to get my wrists free. Ankles seldom matter. Hands are what do all the work unless you are a monkey with finger toes. My question is this; was Leslie really that clever? Or did she just get lucky in finding an escape proof tie? She was never good at Tie em Up. She was the worst actually. She poked at my ribs still singing “want my help?”.
[To be continued…] Aka fetch another glass of wine.