Den Mother Gets Tied








This story first appeared in the “Mothers Tied Up” Dreambook, and is reprinted here for your enjoyment...


My son sent me the address for this site. It never ceases to amaze me what you can find on the Internet. I would have never imagined someone would put up a web page devoted to mothers who were tied up. Anyway, my son thinks I should tell about the time I was his Cub Scout Den Mother, yes, I said Den Mother not Den Leader, for his den. I told him he should be the one telling the story, but he felt people would find it more interesting if I wrote it.


It all started innocently enough. Cub Scouts didn't really get into tying knots and such like Boy Scouts but they did play a lot of games, many of which were based on Indian themes. Anyway, one day we were working on arrow points in our Bear book. The achievement we were working that afternoon involved learning to coil and throw a rope as well as learning the disappearing knot trick. So, we had several lengths of rope out. The last fifteen minutes of our den meetings were set aside for a game or activity.


This afternoon the boys decided they wanted to play cowboys and Indians with me as the captured white woman. I guess with rope being out and the Indian themes associated with so many of their activities I didn't really think anything about the request. They were just a bunch of nine years olds having fun. So, I agreed. Seated in a kitchen chair my hands were quickly tied in front of me and my ankles were tied together. The ropes were snug but with a little effort I could have easily gotten out of them, but I played along and pretended I couldn't.


The kids danced in a circle around me making whooping sounds and having fun. Our den meetings were held right after school. All the boys lived close by in the neighborhood. They either walked home or rode their bikes home. You could actually do that then. When it was time for the meeting to be over the kids gathered up their schoolbooks and Cub Scout books, said goodbye to me, still seated in the chair with my hands and ankles tied, and headed home.


About five minutes later I asked my son if he was going to untie me. I didn't get out on my own because I didn't want the boys to know how easy it would have been. My son says, "oh, sure" and quickly untied the ropes. Next week when it again came time for a closing game the kids wanted to once again play cowboys and Indians with me as the captured white woman. I hesitated a little but eight kids, all begging can weaken any mom.


So, I agreed and once again found myself seated in the kitchen chair with my hands tied in front and my ankles tied, while the kids danced and whooped in a circle around me. The next week when they again asked to play the same game I should have put a stop to it, but I didn't. So, by the fifth week I resigned myself to being tied up each week until they tired of the game.


As it turned out, they never did tire of the game. And, the reason I didn't put a stop to the game was because I had found myself having as much fun with the game as the boys. I would have never imagined that I would come to look upon getting tied up as fun, much less find myself enjoying the experience. If the game had stopped, even by the fourth week, I would most likely have never thought anymore about it. However, soon after I found myself looking forward to being the captured white woman as much as they apparently looked forward to making me the captured white woman. By then I would have been disappointed if they had ever stopped wanting to play the game.


I once asked my son why the boys always wanted to play the same game. Didn't they ever get tired of the same game and want to play something else. Being barely ten years old when I asked, I got the honesty of a ten year old in his reply. He told me the boys all liked tying me up. It was fun. Then he said they thought I was having fun too or I wouldn't let them tie me up every week. I told him he was right. I was having as much fun getting tied up as they were tying me up. But, we should keep that our secret.


That was the beginning of a truly open and honest relationship with my son that I still enjoy to this day. I also discovered the game was a very useful way of maintaining discipline at the den meeting. One time I did refuse to play cowboys and Indians with them because of their behavior during the meeting. I never had another problem. Plus, I always had perfect attendance at my meetings.


But, back to my story. After several weeks I had noticed that, while all the boys participated in the game, it was my son and two of his closest friends that did most of the tying. About the sixth time I was tied up I noticed one of the boys taking off his neckerchief.


When he walked around behind me I knew what was coming but made no protest. Instead I remember thinking to myself, "I wondered when they would get around to this". Because I had expected they would gag me the first time they tied me up. So I let him pull the neckerchief between my lips and tie it off behind my neck.


The other thing notable about this particular time besides the gag was they had tied my hands behind my back rather than in front as before.


Finally summer arrived and we were having our last den meeting. The boys wanted to play "the game" for the whole meeting. So, I spent the better part of an hour and a half sitting in the kitchen chair tied and gagged. As I sat there I wondered if "the game" would continue when school started back in September. I secretly hoped that it would.


When we attended our last pack meeting of the school year I had parents coming up to me and thanking me for taking the time to be the boys' Den Mother, telling me how much the boys enjoyed Cub Scouts, and how they looked forward to their den meetings.


One of the moms made an interesting comment while we were talking. She said she wished there weren't so many Indian themes in scouting. Curious, I asked why. She then said she had been burned at the stake by a couple of the boys several times during the last few weeks. One of the other moms then added that she too had been captured several times by the wild Indians. I said well it’s just kids being kids. They'll be playing something else by next week. That's when a mom from another den, who had been standing close enough to hear our conversation, turned and said, "I hope so. I spent almost two hours a couple of weeks ago gagged and tied to a post in our garage".


So, my boys weren't the only ones inclined to wanting to tie women up and while I wasn't the only victim I was probably the most willing.


The summer wasn't the layoff I had expected. With my son and his two close friends being ten years old, out of school for the summer, and looking for something to do, we played cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers, or just plain "we want to tie you up" games two to three times a week.


I no longer even pretended to be anything other than their more than willing victim. After all, when you realize the boys won't have their Cub Scout neckerchiefs and you tear strips off an old sheet so they will have something to gag you with, I call that willing. I had by now admitted to myself that I liked being tied up. I didn't fully understand the thrill I got from it but I knew I enjoyed it.


It was still very simple stuff. Hands behind my back, ankles tied, and a cloth pulled between my lips. Every now and then they would loop ropes around me, and the chair back, to keep me from moving around too much.


By the end of summer the boys' ability at tying me up had improved. While I believe, with some effort, I could have still escaped on my own, the ropes were tighter. Also, one day when one of the boys approached me with a thick piece of rolled up bed sheet, I had, as usual opened my mouth to let him tie it between my lips, when instead a wad of cloth was stuffed into my mouth.


The thick roll of cloth was quickly tied between my lips over the wad compacting it well back into my mouth. Before, even though the words sounded funny and somewhat muffled, I had been able to still talk to the boys when I wanted to. Now, all that came out were muted grunts.


With the ropes getting tighter, and now a very effective gag in my mouth, I realized I was actually helpless and at the boys' mercy. I also realized I liked this feeling. When school started back up and our den meetings resumed on a regular basis so did the 'cowboys and Indians capture the white woman' game. I'm almost ashamed to admit it but I did have the rope and cloth they needed to tie and gag me with laying out on the kitchen counter top as a less then subtle hint.


As a den mother I always wore my yellow uniform blouse and a tailored knee length blue skirt and black pumps with about a two inch heel. I know the colors are blue and gold but the blouses looked yellow to me.


About the second meeting of the year, while the boys were tying me up, I noticed one of my son's friends whisper something to him. My son then picked up a piece of rope and said, "let's tie her legs together too". My skirt usually rode up a little above my knees when I sat down but my son pushed it up a little more so he could tie my legs above the knees. As I watched him tie my legs together I noticed that my skirt was up just high enough that a hint of reinforced stocking top was peeking out from under the him.


Apparently, I wasn't the only one who noticed this because afterwards arguments would actually break out as to whose turn it was to tie my legs. I again used this to my advantage in maintaining discipline by telling them who ever worked hard enough to be awarded the title of 'denner for the month' would also be the one who tied my legs.


It worked very well. All the boys finished their Lion badge up in record time and began working on their arrow points and then their WEBELOS badge. When we first started playing the game the tie up was a simple hands in front and ankles tied together.


Now my hands were being securely tied behind my back, my ankles and thighs were tied, and I had a very real and effective gag tied in my mouth. While I didn't mind this progression I did often wonder if tying up women was instinctive in young boys. I mean how did they know to do these things? I once thought of asking my husband if he had played these games when he was a boy and, if so, how did he know what to do.


But, I didn't. I'm sure they got some of it from movies and such. Plus, as I remember, there were a lot of detective magazines, men's adventure type of magazines, and even comic books displayed in the magazine racks at the grocery and drug stores. Most of these always featured women in jeopardy, often tied up. I mean, at that time no one thought of covering up those magazines or putting them behind the counter so there was no lack if material to inspire the imagination of young boys.


At one of our pack meetings one of the dens working on their Wolf rank was going to put on a skit they had worked on in their Den meeting. The boys, apparently with the cooperation of their Den Mother and one of the other moms, had come up with the standard Snidley Wiplash and Little Nell melodrama as their skit. The Den Mother and the other mom were playing the heroines. In one scene the Den Mother was loosely tied to a chair with a Cub Scout neckerchief loosely tied over her mouth, awaiting rescue before the powder keg blew up. The other mom wound up loosely tied and gagged on the floor, awaiting rescue before the train came. The whole thing didn't last 10 minutes, but it was still interesting.


I guess I used all these things to help reconcile any concerns I may have had about letting the boys tie me up. I knew my son, and his two closest friends, would continue to tie me up every now and then, but I figured once the boys were out of Cub Scouts and in to Boy Scouts that sadly the weekly tie up game was at an end.


Boy was I ever wrong. The boys all joined the same troop and formed a patrol. They apparently decided to hold weekly patrol meetings after school. And, I of course was more than happy to volunteer to host and chaperone these meetings.


By now, once they finished working on their advancement and planning their patrol activities for the troop meeting or campout, my son would just holler "mom". I knew this was my cue to come in for the closing tie up. Now, here is where I need to issue a word of warning to any moms who happen to be reading this and have sons in Boy Scouts. If you let them talk you into being tied up, you are going to be tied up. You won't be getting loose, until they untie you, especially if they gag you.


Once those young men started learning about knot tying and lashing they applied those lessons to tying me up. I'm not complaining but, suddenly more ropes were being added and I could hardly move, much less entertain any thought of ever getting free on my own. I now would have my hands tied behind my back, ropes would be wrapped around my arms above and below my breasts, wrapped around my waist and wrists in back, around my thighs, just below my knees, and round my ankles.


Also, with age and experience the cloth they pulled between my lips to hold the wad of packing in my mouth had gotten tighter as well. When they were in their second year of Boy Scouts and around twelve and a half years old some interesting new additions were added to the way they tied me up.


First they started tying me up at the start of their patrol meeting. Eight boys and one tied and gagged woman sitting around a table for an hour. Anyway, one day, after my wrists were tied, the same boy who had first suggested tying my legs above the knee slipped a loop of rope up around my arms.


I can tell you it's somewhat of a shock the first time you feel your shoulders being drawn back and realize your elbows just touched together behind your back. He then wrapped several loops around my arms above my elbows and tied it off. They then tied me as they usually did.


I thought about that old army drill sergeant routine, shoulders back, chest out, because, with my arms drawn back my chest was definitely out. The ropes that were usually tied around my arms and upper body, which went above and below my breasts, certainly served to emphasize them but now they were really on display. And, my blouse was stretched tight across my chest as well. I note this because I noticed my nipples were clearly outlined against the tightly stretched fabric.


I apparently wasn't the only one who noticed this because the boys were staring even more than usual and having a harder time holding any semblance of a patrol meeting. The next week, when they tied me up, a blindfold was added. Looking back I think the blindfold was a good idea. It kept them from being embarrassed having me see them staring at me and it kept me from having to watch them stare at me, and feeling self-conscious about it.


I guess this is where I should issue another warning to any moms out there who might read this because I assume if your reading this forum then you have either been tied up or may be thinking about letting your kids tie you up.


When you are tied up you are not only helpless, you are on display. Skirts may be hiked up, a little more than usual, your breasts may be on display more than usual, hands may brush against your breasts, your ass, and your legs. I think that's why tying up older sisters, aunts, and moms, then tickling them seems to be so prevalent. Tickling is a justifiable way for a young boy to touch a woman. If you feel you may have even the slightest problem with any of these things then don't let them tie you up.


After the boys started tying my elbows together and blindfolding me I jokingly asked my son if there was some secret school boys go to where they learned different ways of tying women up. He very plainly answered, "just pictures". I asked him exactly what he meant "pictures". He explained that his friend, the one who had come up with the idea of pushing the wad of cloth in my mouth when they gagged me, the one who had suggested tying my thighs together, and the one who had tied my elbows together, had found some pictures and magazines in his attic which showed women tied up and gagged in different ways and apparently various stages of undress. Seems one day when both his parents were gone he went snooping. That's when he found a box with the pictures and magazines.


My son told me his friend had stayed awake one night and about 1am had slipped out his bedroom windows, sneaked up to his parents' bedroom window, peeked through a crack in the curtains and could see just enough to tell his dad was tying up his mom. This was interesting news.


But, for me, the main thing, was knowing I wasn't some odd ball. Other people, right in the neighborhood, were in to this tie up thing. And, if someone was actually publishing magazines, which featured tied up and gagged women, then apparently so were a number of other people.


Knowing this helped me rid myself of some of the guilt feeling I still had because I not only let the boys tie me up but because I enjoyed it as well. This leads me to another warning. Kids are curious. They are especially curious about adult things and what their parents do, and they snoop. If they suspect you are trying to hide something then they become even more curious. So, unless you are willing to be open and honest with your kids about any "kinks" you may have then you better be extra careful.


I assume, the next addition to the way they tied me up, was inspired by the pictures in the attic as well. Rather than having me sit in a chair as usual I was asked to sit on the floor. I was then tied, gagged, and blind folded in the same way as when seated in the chair. Next I was laid back so I was now stretched out on the floor. This was rather uncomfortable with my arms and wrists tied behind me as they were. I was suddenly rolled over onto my stomach. I felt rope being looped around the rope tying my ankles. Then my feet were drawn up to my wrists and tied off.


I was later told this is called a hogtie. I wasn't sure which was more uncomfortable, laying on my back, with my tied arms under me or on my stomach with my legs bent up like they were. I figured I might as well get used to this and it's a good thing I did. Because for the next five years, until the boys turned 18 and were getting out of Boy Scouts, high school, and going off to college or the military, I would spend one afternoon a week hogtied on my kitchen floor.


I do miss those days, most of the boys, well men, husbands, and fathers now, still keep in touch. I doubt there are any other Den Mothers or Girl Scout moms out there who had quite the same experience I did but, it would be nice see any experiences you did have posted here. I can't be unique in falling victim to my kids. I hope you all enjoyed hearing my story.







Return to the Contributions index


Return to the main index