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.
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