An Unexpected Pleasure
By Rayron D'Olier
(Note from Rayron D'Olier: This is a story told to me by a good friend of mine, a woman who learned this game some 15 years ago completely by accident, but who is now an enthusiastic player on any and all occasions. My relationship with her is a closely held secret and all names and several key details have been changed in order to protect the delightfully not-so-innocent. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed hearing her tell about it.)
My name is Lisa Ridley and this is a story about how I learned of an exciting little game. I learned it 15 years ago and the game I learned is an adult game by any definition that I play with my husband to this day, but that I, and he, discovered through a children's game played by two 11-year-old boys.
I had just turned 19 and was home for the summer after my first year of college. I was taking classes that were somewhat calculated to lead to a major in business, but so far it was all just the basics. I was doing very well, though, and knew I could make up my mind during my sophomore year. I had a boyfriend, Harold, whom I had met during my freshman year who had been two years ahead of me at our high school. He was an interesting guy who was a straight A student in engineering as well as being a 1st-string linebacker on the college football team. He was funny and imaginative as well as being a very serious young man. What a combination, I thought. He plays a part in our tale, but I am getting ahead of myself.
On the day I was to learn this new game, there were no premonitions that it would be a day any different from any other weekday during the summer break. My boyfriend and I both had jobs, but generally saw each other every night. I had been at work all day at my summer job at a women's clothing store that catered to the female professional or executive. As well as being salespeople, all of us were models for the outfits. An added bonus was that we got to keep quite a bit of what we modeled, so I was really building up a professional wardrobe. That day I was wearing a grey linen suit with a rather tight knee length skirt, a jacket and a white silk blouse. I had on natural color nylons with black, low-heeled pumps, almost flats, that had a nice bow at the toe.
About lunchtime, I got a call from some friends of my parents asking me to sit with their 11-year-old son and one of his friends. The parents of both boys were going out for some kind of corporate awards dinner and their previous plans for a sitter had fallen through. Although I had made plans to meet Harold at 9 p.m., I agreed to sit the boys. I had sat for them both all during high school and several times that summer. Sometimes Harold would come with me and the boys absolutely idolized him. Not only was he a college football player who looked like something out of "Sons of Hercules", but he had a great car that he would let the boys sit in. I remember that the car was a Pontiac, but the three of them called it something like "Tam-ZAM". I can't remember. Harold also didn't treat them like they were beneath him, but talked to them as if they were his good friends whose lives were as fascinating to him as his was to them.
I called Harold and asked him if he wanted to come over with me but he said that he needed to get in a major training session at the gym that evening after work. He said that as soon as the boy's parents came home, that I should call him at his parents' house no matter how late it was and we could meet there and grope each other in the privacy of their basement recreation room.
He then asked, "Will you still be dressed for your job?"
I said yes and he said, "Please, sweetie, please don't even think of changing clothes. I want to see you just like that, like a sexy executive lady."
I said, "You know, sometimes I think you love my new clothes better than you love me."
"Since I get you to dress for me, I want you to start thinking how I can dress for you and you'll see what that's all about." He laughed.
I laughed. God, he was sexy to me. I felt like a little private time in the bathroom as we hung up, but couldn't right then, so I went through the rest of the day mildly excited and occasionally a little moist. Life was good.
I arrived at the boy's home just as the parents of both of them were about to leave. One of the husbands was already in the car with the motor running. The mother of one boy said, "We should be back by 11 or so, eat anything you want and thank you, thank you, thank you. They are in George's room playing some godawful video game. Bye!"
I walked down the hall to George's room and when I poked my head in the door, he and his friend Robert were indeed engrossed in a loud "kill the space invaders" type of game. I said hello and without turning around, Robert said, "Is Harold coming?"
"No, not tonight." I said, and then sarcastically added, "Fine thank you and how are you two," I added.
And they both said "Hi, fine.", and continued to defend Earth against the deadly space horde. I turned and went back to the living room. There was a huge leather couch in the middle of the room facing the TV and the front window, with a dining area and sliding glass doors leading out to the patio behind. I wearily sank down onto this couch after dumping my jacket on the floor. I kicked off my shoes and got a stupid, romance novel out of my purse that I had bought that day at a store near my job and proceeded to lose myself in the joys of bodice-bursting and heroic posturing. It was about 6 p.m.
At one point during the next hour, I heard the phone ring and then heard George shout, "I've got it!" I heard no more and again lost myself in Romanceland. At a little after 7 p.m., I noticed that the house had gotten perfectly quiet, which was a rare thing with those two around. I slipped on my shoes and looked in George's room.
I went through the kitchen and opened the door to the garage and found them at George's father's work bench looking into a drawer. They seemed taken aback by my appearance. "What are you two criminals up to?" I asked.
"I was just showing Robert Dad's tool catalog," George said.
"Well don't get into anything you shouldn't."
"Oh no, I mess around here all the time," George said with the strangest little smile.
Again I got shoeless on the couch and began to read about a fictional damsel and her hero, which led me to think about my own hero and what we would do later that night. I was strangely excited by our earlier conversation about dressing up for each other and began to mull that over. At around 7:30, I remember being a little spooked by what sounded like a quiet footfall behind the couch in the dining room. I turned around, but no one was there. The sliding glass door to the patio was open slightly, though. I hadn't noticed that before and once again I had to go investigate.
What were they up to?
I slipped my shoes back on with a weary sigh and went around the end of the couch toward the glass doors to have a peek and to at least shut the door. I got around the end table next to the couch and that's as far as I made it.
Both boys leaped up from behind the couch and from slightly behind me. One of them grabbed my legs around the knees while the other grabbed around my body under my arms, and in a deft wrestling-type hold forced my arms up above my head. The other then picked up my legs and they carried me back to the middle of the living room in front of the couch. I began shouting, "What are you little bastards doing?" and "Stop that this minute!" in my most authoritative voice. I began struggling, thinking to easily free myself, but they were stronger than I expected (they had both been lifting weights in emulation of Harold) and the way they were holding me, I had very little leverage.
They stood holding me for a moment in the middle of the room. I was facing the ceiling with my legs held somewhat above the level of my head. They were held tightly at the knees with both legs over George's right shoulder. When I tried to kick, I could only manage a sort of weak little kick of my lower legs, not enough to even hit George in the back. Robert had my arms pinned firmly above my head and I flailed them around ineffectually. I struggled as much as I could and shouted terrible threats against both of them, but they just laughed.
From behind my head, I then heard Robert say, "All right, 1-2-3!"
At this obviously planned signal I felt myself pivoted to my left and at the same time gently lowered to the floor where I found myself face-down with Robert straddling my back, still pinning my arms above my head, while George turned around backwards and straddled my legs, holding my ankles still with both hands.
My voice had lost its authority as I realized I had lost control of the situation. I heard myself say something to the effect of, "Hey you guys, come on now, cut it out!" and other sort of pleading protestations informing them that they were out of line and, "let's let the joke be over!"
What happened next confirmed my growing suspicion that this was all an elaborate plan in advance and that they would be hard to dissuade from carrying it out to the end. Whatever it was.
Again I heard Robert say, "Here we go, 1-2-3!" At the count of three, George, who was holding my legs, let go of my left ankle and grabbed my right ankle with both hands and pulled it back against my thigh where he then hooked his elbow around the ankle. Then he grabbed my right wrist. When Robert let that arm out of his hold, George hooked that arm with his elbow and pulled it down from above my head to as far behind my back as he could get it so that on my right side I was hooked by my ankle and my elbow. My left leg was free now and I kicked it furiously trying to get a good kick at one of them, but they were out of reach. All I succeeded in doing was kicking off that shoe.
Robert then grabbed my left wrist with both hands and pulled it behind my back. He then turned backwards, straddled me and sat down on my shoulders. My arms were now pinned behind my back held down by the weight of one boy and the combined strength of both. By now I was losing my breath and wasn't speaking at all, just making a sort of panting noise. The two boys sounded like guys hard at work on a demanding project. Now George straddled my thighs, facing Robert and with my bent-back right leg still beneath him. There was no way I could straighten it and he sort of wrapped his lower legs around my still flailing left leg, which effectively took the kick out of that. They positioned my wrists together horizontally at the small of my back and then I knew. They were going to tie me up.
I felt one of them begin to wind what seemed like a very thick, soft shoe string around my wrists. I really tried to buck them off, but only succeeded in tiring myself out more. I was powerless to prevent them from wrapping my wrists what seemed like a dozen times and then thread the line back and forth between my wrists several times. When I felt them knot it, I stopped struggling and didn't say anything, as I knew I would just sound a little breathless and panicky. I heard Robert say, "There, got it." Robert then got up and went to my left ankle and held it down. George then released my right leg and sort of handed Robert that ankle. George then sat on the back of my thighs and hugged both calves, holding them angled up toward Robert. I felt the same soft line then wrapped around my ankles what seemed like many, many times and then cinched and knotted the same as my wrists. When this was done, I was totally out of breath and it sounded like they were a little too.
I was still facedown on the floor and George was still sitting on my legs. I feebly and without much conviction told them I was going to kill them both, but they weren't even hearing me now. They were totally engrossed in their project. Robert said, "she's going nowhere, let's rest a second."
They got off me and stood about 10 feet away. I twisted my head around and saw them give each other a high-five and look down at me proudly with their hands on their hips. I tried unsuccessfully to roll over on my side and realized that I was really well tied hand and foot. It didn't hurt, but I could barely move at all, it seemed. After several attempts, I finally got on my left side and wearily resigned myself to whatever they had in store for me. They were much too thrilled by what they had done to be reasoned with. George said, "Let's sit her up and finish the job."
"Finish the job?" I yelled. They grabbed me and sat me up with my back towards the front of the couch and began winding what I now saw was a medium-thick, white cotton rope around my body and arms, beneath my breasts and above the elbows. They wound it around me a good dozen times and then I felt them theading it between my body and my arms several times around the wrappings they had just done, now not even bothering to hold me. After the cinching was done, they knotted it firmly behind me. When they did this I felt what little slack had been in the rope tighten up. Again, I felt little discomfort and no pain but my upper arms were now tightly pinioned to and slightly behind my back just above the elbows. They pulled me back so I could lean against the front of the couch. My legs were flat on the floor in front of me. I thought that, surely, now they must be done, but I looked on with dismay as they put yet another rope above my knees and cinched it as snug as the others. Then they again stopped to admire their work, which, admittedly was very effective.
We stared at each other. My hair had been pulled back into sort of loose bun when the kidnapping began and it had mostly come undone. I was looking at them between many strands of my long, dark brown hair, which I was totally unable to clear away from my face even when I tried shaking my head to the side. The hair just fell in front of me again. I was fairly disheveled in general. My blouse had come unbuttoned to about the top of my bra, My right front shirttail was beginning to escape from my wide leather belt, my skirt was pulled up under me on the right side, showing what I thought was a little too much leg. I had lost one shoe in the struggle and the other was just sort of dangling from my toes. I tried to work it back onto my heel, but only managed to make it fall off completely. Because of the rope around my body, my breasts were thrust out and seemed about to burst out of my blouse, especially with the deep exhausted breaths I was taking.
In my helpless, and slightly exposed state, I began to feel a little embarrassed. They, on the other hand, were absolutely delighted and were starring at me with undisguised glee. I tossed my head to try to get the hair out of my face, unsuccessfully, and said, "Alright, now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?"
Robert then revealed himself as the chief kidnapper when he assumed a sort of gentlemanly villainous attitude (probably imitating some move character, consciously or unconsciously) and said, "As our captive, you will be told what you need to know, when we are ready for you to know it. But first there is still one more thing we must do. So stay right where you are we'll be right back. If you try to escape, which I don't think you can, just remember: We still have lots more rope." Then they walked off snickering toward the bedrooms.
After they disappeared down the hall, I sat there and sort of tested my ropes and experimented with moving around a little. My upper body was immobilized except for being able to bend forward at the waist. If I tried to bend to either side for any distance, I would begin to fall over. I could bend my knees up toward my face and I pulled them up and slightly to one side and began alternately pulling against the ankle ropes first with one stocking foot and then the other. My legs and feet had only an inch or a little more of travel available. When I bent my knees too far to one side, I almost fell over then too, so I stopped moving and just leaned back against the couch with my legs straight out in front of me. I didn't want to give them any excuse to add more rope. As it was, I was expertly bound and was only able to wait for whatever was next. I had never been tied up before and the sensation was not like I had thought it would be. It wasn't painful the way they had done it. It was just more like I had been packaged. I looked at the clock over the mantle. It was 8 p.m. It had taken them less than 15 minutes to tie me up against my will.
Just as I was thinking about what time it was, they came back and sat above me on the couch, one on each side. I looked up at Robert to see what the chief kidnapper had in mind, Just as I opened my mouth to speak he jammed a knotted scarf between my teeth and began wrapping the four-foot-long silk scarf around my head. I immediately clamped my teeth shut and lowered my chin on my chest so he couldn't get any more of it in my mouth. He held it tightly behind my head so I couldn't spit out the knot.
However. I heard George say, "I told you she'd do that."
Robert said, "I know."
Then I heard Robert whisper to George and then George said out loud, "Yes!" George then got up and in a minute came around go my feet with a length of rope only about a foot long. He threaded that around my ankle ropes and then brought it together between my feet and held both ends. I instinctively pulled my feet back, but he just pulled them toward himself again. I knew what was next. George pulled out a Popsicle stick and began lightly tickling the soles of my feet. I leaned forward and tried to pull my knees up. With my toes pointed, I tried desperately to flatten my feet on the floor, but George just stood up and pulled on the rope, lifting my feet in the air while continuing the excruciating tickle torture. Robert sat behind me on the couch and held my shoulders back. I struggled mightily, but I was very easy to hold. I growled through my clenched teeth and they both seemed greatly amused.
Robert then leaned backwards and said in my ear, "We'll keep doing this until you open your mouth and keep it open. We're very sorry, but you must be gagged, even if it takes hours." This took the final fight out of me. I relaxed and nodded my head yes and George mercifully stopped.
I then closed my eyes and opened wide. I felt Robert loosen what was left of my bun and draw my hair back smoothly away from my face so it would be held down by the scarf. I then felt turn after turn of the scarf go around my head until my mouth was filled with the smooth fabric. It was then knotted behind my head. I opened my eyes as George slipped the short rope out from between my ankles. At least I could see now without a bunch of hair in front of my face. I drew my knees up and rubbed my tingling stocking feet on the carpet, waiting for the next outrage. All I could do now was look and listen and do whatever they said.
Robert came and stood in front of me. "As we told you, you are our prisoner. We must keep you tied up and gagged because we will not be able to watch you during much of the next couple of hours. Anyway, you could probably outfight us eventually. I almost didn't think we could get you roped up a couple of times. If at any time you refuse to cooperate or try to escape, you will be tickled again for as long as we want." He paused and grinned, "We are going to hold you for ransom. We are going to call Harold and tell him that you will not be released to go see him tonight unless he comes over here and gives us $20 apiece."
At this I yelled through the gag, "Harold will kick your asses and don't you dare call him anyway and Goddammit untie me this second!" This all came out as sort of like a muffled, "Aa-ull ill iff oo aaff-i aa o oo aw iw l-ee-a ow ou-awit umpie ee if imphumph!"
George then said, "I think she needs some more tickling."
I then pleaded, "uh-uh, uh-uh pheeve, mo! I ee-ave!"
Robert then said, "So you'll do what we say?"
I said, "Eph."
"I will reward you by putting your shoes back on and straightening your skirt."
"Now" Robert said, "we have prepared a place to hide you so that when Harold gets here, he can't find you until he forks over the dough. You will be comfortable, but we will have to move you now." They helped me up and sat me on the couch and went to the garage. They were back very quickly with an upright dolly with a thick blanket draped over the back. They stood me up and rolled the dolly up to my heels.
"Now stand on tiptoe," said Robert. Then they rolled the dolly forward until it stopped at the balls of my feet.
"Now stand flat and step back as far as you can."
I stepped back in several tiny steps and was on the dolly. They tipped me back a little and they stood on either side with one hand on a shoulder and the other on the handle of the dolly. "Just like Hannibal Lecter," George laughed.
They rolled me out of the living room, through the dining room and out the sliding glass doors leading out to the patio. The lights above the patio were all off and they rolled me across it in the dark toward a guesthouse. I had known it was there, but had never been in it. They rolled me backward through the door of the guesthouse, through a dark living room, which I could see was fully furnished, down a hallway and into the farthest back bedroom where they finally turned on the lights.
They stood me upright and said, "Wait here," laughing of course, and went back into the hallway. I looked around the room and saw that there was absolutely nothing in it. There was one window that would have been facing the fence about a foot away and there was a shade drawn across it. Otherwise the room was empty. Soon I heard them dragging stuff down the hall. They came in with a large overstuffed chair from the living room with the TV and cable box sitting on the seat of the chair. They took the TV off the seat and then rolled me over to where they had put the chair away from the window. Then with many tiny little steps they helped me "walk" over to the chair and sit down.
Robert then turned to me and in his best imitation of a gentlemanly cad (probably out of some James Bond movie) said, "The prisoner will sit here and not try to escape. The door and window will be locked and there is only one way out of the yard, but you won't get out of this room I don't think. George is setting the TV up for you so you will have something to do. It is now 8:20 and we will need to keep you here for a couple of hours at most. We will be checking on you from time to time and if we find that you have been trying to escape we will tickle your feet for fifteen minutes. Here is the remote control for the TV. Sit a little sideways." He watched as I leaned forward and sort of pushed myself around in the chair by pushing to one side with my feet. He then put the remote in my bound hands and told me to try and turn the TV on and off. I could down and see part of the remote and part of my thumb on the button. I turned the TV on.
George then turned the volume very low on the TV control. Robert then said, "If we can hear this TV outside at any time, that will be cause for a 15-minute foot tickling. We have to go now and start trying to call your boyfriend. We'll be back very shortly and we'll have something to drink and we'll help you smoke one of your cigarettes, if you'd like." I realized that at some point they had gone through my purse. Probably looking for Harold's phone number, because I had never smoked in front of them.
"Also, if you have to go to the bathroom, we'll figure out how to let you do that also."
George then added, "And if you're expecting our parents to come home and save you, you can just forget about that. They called an hour after you got here and said that they were getting a hotel room and the awards convention to celebrate winning something and were staying the night. They asked to speak to you, but I told them you had decided to take a shower and couldn't come to the phone. They told me they would pay you triple if you could stay overnight (as I had done a few times) and if you couldn't do that, you should please call them and they would make other plans. That's when we decided to kidnap you. So they won't be back. We'll call Harold in a little while and set it all up."
They backed toward the door and Robert left me with, "Behave yourself and we'll see you in a bit and keep you informed about your chances of rescue. As far as we are concerned we'll keep you prisoner all night if we have too, because we can. But we think Harold will want you back pretty darn quick."
They walked out the door laughing at their own wit. I heard a latch of some kind secure the door from the hall and then they were gone. I was left helpless to await whatever they could work out with Harold, or really, whatever little whim would cause them amusement. I wasn't scared any more or particularly angry, but this was all terribly strange and was causing a sort of deep stirring emotion in me that I couldn't quite identify.
As I sat there, I reviewed what had just happened. The events related, so far, had taken less than an hour from the time I was ambushed behind the couch. It was about 8:30 and because Harold wasn't expecting to hear from me until later, he might not even be home yet. At the thought of Harold I felt a twinge of anticipation and a sort of jolt of physical excitement. I was no longer angry with the boys. I found, to my surprise, that I was beginning to enter into the spirit of my situation a little. After all, I had nothing to fear. Although I was very securely bound and gagged, my only discomfort was a slight stiffness in the shoulders from having my arms in one position for longer than usual. They had used a thick, soft almost limp rope on me and although it was snug and wrapped quite a few times around everything, in wasn't cutting or chaffing. The boys had actually been very careful and considerate, apart from their single-minded devotion to kidnapping me and tying me up. They had planned a way to tie me so that I couldn't hurt myself in the struggle. They were going to check on me from time to time and bring me something to drink and a smoke. They would be willing to let me go to the bathroom, (although thankfully I didn't have to yet) even though that risked my escaping. I wondered if I could outfight them without the element of surprise they enjoyed before. I giggled a little as I thought of Robert and George, a fine pair of villains, standing before me in their roles as tough, but mannerly kidnappers. I wondered how many movies had gone into their assumed roles.
Then I thought of Harold again and how he would not be able to resist playing along, but at the same time making them understand that the game was now over and he was in charge. So as soon as Harold arrived, I would be untied. I suspected that Harold and the boys would be more friends than ever after this. As I pictured my handsome, brave and intelligent boyfriend laughing in the house and then coming to my rescue, I was conscious of moisture creeping between my thighs. I was filled with a swelling desire for Harold to the extent that I would normally feel only when he was actually with me and bringing me slowly to climax. I was squirming a bit in this pleasurable state. Every instinct demanded that my hands touch my vagina, but they were well tied behind me. I was slowly running my stockinged legs and feet together all that the ropes would allow. I was slipping my feet in and out of my shoes and extending my legs and pointing my toes. My hands were wriggling as if they had a mind of their own and were just dying to touch me in all the right places. My eyes were closed and had turned sideways in the chair so that the movement of my legs back and forth would give me a little more friction where it counted the most. I swear I was close to spontaneous orgasm when suddenly I was shocked by a loud noise.
It was the TV. In my excitement, my hands had dropped the remote and I had sat on it and turned the volume way up. I tried to find the remote and his the mute button, but I only succeeded in turning the channel several times. As I fumbled with the buttons that I couldn't even see, the remote fell out of my rather sweaty hands and fell between the chair arm and the cushion. I had broken the rules of my captivity. They would hear the TV as they came out to check on me and I knew they would gleefully impose the punishment promised.
I wouldn't be able to explain what'd happened because I had already discovered that the gag prevented me from being understood at all. I tried to grab the remote from between the arm and the cushion, but it just fell further into the chair. I resigned myself to my fate and waited for my little captors to come. Maybe Harold is already on his way. I decided to make a bold move and hop over to the TV and just turn it off. It was distracting me from my thoughts anyway. I leaned forward and inched my butt to the front edge of the chair. Then I rocked slightly and stood up. Standing my made the ropes on my legs and ankles noticeably tighter. I came up on my toes to start hopping and my heels popped out of my shoes. Better kick those off, I thought. So I sat down again and pulled my feet out of the shoes. I stood up again and began tentatively hopping. It was only about 10 feet to the TV, but bound as I was, it was more like 30 yards. Each little hop only carried me a few inches. I was afraid of losing my balance and falling, and would be unable to brace my fall with my hands. Instead of hopping, I decided to just take the same tiny, tiny little steps I had used to get off the dolly and into the chair earlier. As I slowly approached the blaring TV, it dawned on me that this was like so many of the romances and mystery novels I had been addicted to since I was about 10 years old.
The damsel, held by desperate, menacing villains. Awaiting her hero to rescue her, but bravely doing all she could to free herself or at least foil the villainous designs of her captors. This thought made me suddenly have a rush of excitement. At that very moment, when I was almost close enough to the TV to turn around and turn it off, the door opened and there were the mockingly stern and disappointed faces of the little villains. They were playing their roles to the hilt and my only reaction was to giggle madly behind the gag. I'm afraid this had the effect of encouraging them in their game as it now seemed as if I were having fun. Which, in a way, I guess I was!
Robert looked at George and nodded his head. George disappeared down the hall and Robert turned to me and said, "The prisoner has betrayed us and I am sad to say that she must be punished as we described before."
I began pleading with my eyes as I stood there and pretended to try and speak through the gag, but I wasn't really saying anything, I was just mmmphing and squealing.
Robert said, "I will help you back to your chair and stop that noise, I can't understand a word you're saying." We tiny-stepped back to the chair with Robert holding my shoulders from behind and I sat back down. Robert went and turned off the TV. "Where is the remote, girly?" I gestured with my head in the direction of the seat cushion. He went and fished it out. "You have now lost your TV privileges." He almost broke character at this and began to unsuccessfully try to suppress a grin. In the meantime I had slipped my shoes back on. I was going to make it a little difficult for them in my new role as fiesty damsel.
George came back into the room carrying a small round ottoman which he had wrapped with rope as you might tie a package, with the knot at the top that had about a foot of rope extending from each side of the knot. He put the ottoman on the floor and shoved it next to my legs. Robert reached down to put my legs on the ottoman, but I leaned forward and put as much weight as possible over my legs and kept my feet flat on the floor and curled my toes in my shoes to make them harder to get off.
Then Robert said, "the prisoner has just added 15 minutes to her punishment." Then they both grabbed my legs, tipped me back in the chair and put my ankles directly on top of the knot fastening the rope around the ottoman. Robert then turned his back to me and straddled my knees so I couldn't bend them and George passed the loose ends of the ottoman rope around the cinch between my ankles and knotted it with his usual neatness. I lay back in the chair and went limp, dreading what was next.
"If the prisoner will kick off her own shoes to show cooperation, we will forget that last struggle." My little pumps were quite low-cut and came off easily by pulling the backs off my heels against the ottoman, leaving only my toes in the shoes. I then made several little flutter kicks from the ankle and both shoes tumbled to the floor. I saw my stocking feet helplessly positioned for the tickling and felt very vulnerable. The excitement from before was ebbing, but was not really leaving me. I left my feet pointing straight up and hoped it would be over with quickly. 15 minutes seemed as long a time as that 10 feet to the TV had seemed a long distance.
Then I saw George. Smiling. Holding a large feather.
He held it like an old-fashioned quill pen with the hard, bony shaft pointed forward.
At my feet.
He knelt down and I put my head back and closed my eyes. I didn't have long to wait. The hard, pointy feather shaft started slowly running up and down my soles. I remember vividly hearing the scratching sound it made against the nylon. The effect on me physically was as sudden and powerful as an electric shock. I lunged forward and strained against my bonds. I writhed and tried to pull my feet away from the feather, but they were held fast to the ottoman. Even when I pointed them and tried to flatten them, I couldn't quite get them down far enough. I tried warding off the feather with the foot that wasn't being tickled and George would just switch feet. I could hear my muffled squealing intermingled with the occasional, "Mo mo op, eeeeev op."
Robert then said, "Give her a break every 60 seconds to she can get her breath." This went on for what seemed like an hour and then when I thought I could stand it no more, I heard a beeping and saw Robert reach over and turn off a kitchen timer. I hadn't noticed that before.
I sat there before them with absolutely no dignity left. They had seen me totally out of control and now I sat there more disheveled than ever. I was damp all over from my exertions in trying to get away from the feather. Strands of my hair had come out from under the gag and were hanging in my face. My skirt had ridden up almost to the point of indecency and my shirttail was out everywhere but at my belt buckle. George walked over and pulled my skirt down, but his face was blushing as much as I'm sure mine was and he was unsuccessfully suppressing a grin. I was not.
Robert then said, "I will take off your gag and you can have a coke and a cigarette, but you're still not allowed to talk at all or I'll put the gag back in, OK?"
I nodded weakly. He brought over a large paper bag and took out a big bottle of coke. He helped me drink my fill, which was considerable and then lit a cigarette and put it in my mouth. "I'll help you smoke this and tell you what's next. We've decided to let you use the bathroom and get cleaned up for Harold. I brought some stuff from my mom's bathroom. If you try to escape when we untie you, we will totally get you tied up again no matter how hard you fight. We haven't called Harold yet either and if you try to escape and we get you tied up again, and we probably will, we won't call him at all. I take that back, we'll call him and tell him about the folks wanting you to stay over and that you've already gone to sleep with a headache and you said to tell him sorry but see you tomorrow. Then we'll just keep you tied up all night ant tickle you all we want. And I haven't had my turn with the feather yet."
He took the cigarette from my mouth and said, "Repeat after me; I will promise not to escape because I have been warned fair and square."
I repeated that word for word and I meant it.
"When you have taken a shower and gotten all pretty again, we'll tie you up again and call Harold. That's our promise." Then they went to work untying me. I had been tied up for about two and a half hours and was a bit stiff my this time, especially after the tickling. The stiffness diminished quickly though. I took the bath stuff they gave me and went into the bathroom across the hall. "Don't be longer than 20 minutes or we'll come in after you." I started to pick up my shoes and Robert barked, "Leave the shoes."
In the bathroom, I took off my clothes and showered and again began to think about Harold. The excitement I had been gripped with earlier came back quickly. The idea of him coming to pay the ransom and then seeing his damsel bound and gagged began to work me up powerfully and it shouldn't be long now. It was after 9 and he would be home for certain. He would be here soon and then the real fun would begin. I wanted to touch myself and have a quick orgasm so badly, but I didn't have time. It was excruciating to feel that way and not be able to do anything about it, but that was adding a lot to the level of excitement. I put my clothes back on, but I first cut a slit in my panty hose directly over my vagina, hoping that Harold would soon have his hands right there. My clothes were a little wrinkly and a little damp, but it felt great to be clean and fresh and smelling like expensive perfume. I put my thoroughly trashed hair back into a tight pony tail high on the back of my head and applied red lipstick and a little eye shadow. I didn't bother with any other makeup as it would have been smudged anyway by the gag I would soon have in my mouth and around my face. As I was finishing, I heard a knock and the bathroom door, "The prisoner will present herself for inspection and retying right now."
I walked out and Robert said, "Go and stand in the middle of the room and keep quiet." They then looked me over as I walked past and I heard them snicker a little. As I awaited being tied up, I felt a surge of excitement begin building from deep inside. It was going to be stronger than it was earlier. I realized that although I was still untied, I was truly helpless.
The little villains meant business and any attempt to spoil their game and escape at this point would lead to a desperate, exhausting fight that I might win, but if I lost it meant staying tied up all night with no prospect of a visit from Harold as compensation and frankly, sexual relief. And anyway there was nowhere to run without going through them and even if I made it out the door, I was in my stocking feet and would have difficulty running through the back yard in the dark. They would probably catch me even if I made it that far. By this time, however, I wanted to be cooperative. I was anxious to be tied and gagged so that Harold could find me that way. It was doubly exciting that I had no choice in the matter, and I was as anticipating what would come next with as much relaxed excitement as if it had all been my idea to begin with.
Then I heard, "The prisoner will place her wrists together behind her back."
Getting into the swing of things, I said in a pleading little voice, "Please don't tie me up again, I won't try to get away."
The reply was, "Silence, Girly! I'm sorry but we can't afford to take any chances. There's $40 in it for us and we can't watch you while we make our plans. Wrists together now."
I smiled a little as I put my hands behind my back and felt my wrists placed side by side horizontally against the small of my back. To my surprise, it wasn't rope that I began to feel winding around my wrists, but what felt like a smooth silk or nylon scarf like the one I had been gagged with. Whatever it was, it was very long and was wrapped many times and then cinched between my wrists and then knotted to make it all quite snug. Although if was more comfortable than the rope, it felt much thicker and when I tested it a little it had less slack than the rope. I wouldn't be slipping out of this. Then I felt another scarf wound around both arms above the elbows. There was nothing encircling my body this time, but the scarf around the elbows drew my arms back a little so that they were as effectively immobilized as before. It too was then cinched in some way and firmly knotted. "Now go and sit in your chair and put your feet up on the stool. We won't tickle you."
I did as I was told and had to suppress any smiling now that I was facing them. George said, "my turn" and began tying my ankles together with what was indeed a four-foot long black silk scarf. Another was added above my knees. They were both cinched tight and once again I was packaged and trussed with no hope of escape.
"The prisoner may now put her feet on the floor. I don't thing we will need the tickling stool again, but remember, it is still here if we do."
I then said in most shyly seductive voice I could manage, "could I have my shoes put back on please?" Robert thought for a second and then knelt at my feet and helped me put my shoes back on. Just like a little shoe salesman. I sat back in the chair with an erect posture and noticed that even with out any binding around my body, with my arms drawn back were straining against my blouse just as before. In my little voice I asked, "Sir, could you please unbutton my blouse about halfway. It will be so much more comfortable for me." (and sexy looking for Harold I didn't add out loud)
I watched them both redden with embarrassment, but good old George seized the opportunity, "I'll do it" and he sprang forward and undid each button to just where my bra met between my breasts.
Robert then took his turn, "She is still talking too much. We were testing you to see if you could do like we said and keep quiet and you have failed the test." I hung my head down ruefully and waited for the gag. Once again Robert wrapped a long silk scarf through my teeth several times and then knotted it behind my head, being careful to leave my new ponytail swinging free. He also didn't fill my mouth with as many turns, so I was actually able to breathe through my mouth.
So once again, bound and gagged and at the mercy of two very young boys. I covertly wriggled around a little and found that there was much less slack in the scarves than with the ropes, but I instead of slack there was a sort of smoothness and a bit of "give" in the fabric, so that I was more comfortable than before, if no less helpless. All my struggling the first time around had probably made a little slack in the ropes, not that it had made any difference at all. The two then stepped back again to admire their work, but I noticed a shyness and blushing look in both. It occurred to me that they might be feeling some of the same sexual charge that I had been during all this.
Do 11-year-old boys feel that yet? I don't know, but that's certainly how they looked to me right then. Robert then informed me that "the boyfriend" had actually been called. He had "begged us for enough time to raise the money" and said he could be there a little after 11. "It is now almost 10. We will not be back to check on you. The next person you see will be Harold. He can do with you as he likes for all we care."
Then I had to say, and was surprised to find I could make myself understood through this less stringent gag, "Ut I haffa stay ear all might ee-ouse uwer pharents aren't oming ome."
"That's true," George said, "but we will be hiding and making our plans for spending the loot. Don't look for us or there will be trouble. And we won't look for you either." And then he winked! They had some idea about what was going to happen when Harold got here.
George then came over and took off my right shoe, "We'll need this to prove to Harold that we've got you. We'll give it to him and tell him where you are when he gives us the dough." The two then backed out the door, reluctantly I thought, and closed the door and latched it from the outside.
So here I was, comfortably, but inescapably tied and gagged and with a wet and swollen vagina. I relaxed, but again I started moving my legs against each other the inch or so that the scarves would allow. This movement gave my sorely neglected vagina a slight rubbing. I admired the way my legs looked in their stockings, tightly tied together. My one shoeless foot flipped the other shoe off and I began rubbing my feet together. I started a pivoting motion in the chair and I swear if I could have touched myself, I would have climaxed in seconds. I felt taut and limp at the same time. I felt like a wet dishrag draped over a wildly racing and buzzing electric motor. An hour or more of this was a thing to be savored, I decided and the fact that it was not by my choice and that I truly was a prisoner was a sort of once-in-a-lifetime piece of luck. The circumstances had come together in a rare way, in which the fear that my plight would normally inspire was minimal and then absent altogether, but the intensity of emotion caused by being physically helpless was still there and transferred in itself into the sexual excitement caused by the anticipation of Harold's imminent arrival. I was really kidnapped, but by two harmless young boys playing a game. A somewhat rough game, but still causing no real harm. I was to be rescued by my boyfriend, whose erotic appeal for me was stunning even under normal circumstances. There was drama in this scenario and just enough reality to make my rescue something to deeply anticipate.
And the anticipation was building by the minute. The sexual charge I had felt building in me from the moment my hands were tied for the second time was now washing over me in waves of passion. I was constantly wriggling now trying to scratch a powerful, powerful itch. During the next hour, I would alternately struggle against the bonds I was packaged in and resting. I swear I would actually squeal with excitement as my legs and feet in the smooth nylon stockings rubbed against each other, pulling in vain against the equally smooth silk scarves holding my knees and ankles fast together. I would rapidly shake my bound torso from side to side in attempts to make my breasts rub against my bra. With my arms pulled back at the elbows my breasts were forced out against the material in a way that gave me a little help in achieving this extremely exciting feeling. By the end of the hour I was a little damp all over, although the room was quite cool. My blouse had come open so that it wasn't really hiding my bra at all much any more. My skirt was all hiked up to mid-thigh again and most remarkably, my legs looked as taut and defined as if I had just run ten miles, but instead it was from digging my toes into the carpet and struggling mightily against the tightly tied scarves at my ankles and knees. I was seriously thinking of hopping around the room and attempting to rub my vagina against the doorknob, when suddenly I saw that very doorknob I was staring at so greedily begin to turn and then the door slowly swung open to reveal my hero: student, athlete, lover and rescuer of bound and gagged damsels in acute, sexual distress.
I sank back into the chair, laughing through the gag. I then sat up suddenly and yelled, "Ut ook oo fo wong?" I waved at him with one stocking foot.
He replied, "I got here as soon as I could, but those kids drive a hard bargain. First I had to pay them $40 and then before they would tell me where you were, I had to promise that before I untied you that I would make you promise not to kill them. Or tell on them." Harold was trying to look so serious as he entered he room, but the hilarity and excitement he too was feeling were coming off of him in an almost visible glowing aura.
With his hands on his hips he stopped about 10 feet in front of me, "I can't believe the mess you've let yourself get into. When those little bastards called me, they said it was at your instructions. They said you were busy getting pretty for me and that I should come over right away because the parents wouldn't be back tonight and that you had to stay over. When I got here, George was waiting for me in the living room and he said, 'Let's have a little talk Harold. Lisa is a little tied-up right now. See this shoe? I'll tell you where she is and give you this shoe for the low price of $40.'" I said, 'What are you assholes up to here?' Then Robert chimed in, 'We've captured your girlfriend, dude, and like George said, we've got here all tied-up where you can't find her. So fork over the ransom.' I didn't know if they were serious or not. 'If this is your idea, or her idea, of a game, then we can play it so I just kick your asses until you tell me.' They looked scared then, but good old Robert just swallowed hard and said, 'Oh, that will look real good, kicking little kids' asses.' I laughed and played along. 'OK, guys, you got me. Here's $40. Now where is she? In the bathroom? Hiding in the garage?' 'No, really, we've got her all tied and gagged in the little house out back. It was tough too, man, she's a fighter! Here's her shoe and the key to the house. Go back and save her, man. We were going to sell her to some drug dealer, but because you are our good friend, we thought we would offer her to you first. And you got a good price. We could've gotten $100 from a drug dealer, but we don't really know one offhand.' I didn't even know this place was back here. I probably couldn't have found you."
I was giggling at all this and just melting between my legs. I was starting to wriggle around like before. I was just so, so excited that he was just standing there talking to me while I was totally bound and gagged. I knew he was loving it, because I could see the bulge in the front of his pants. I was beginning to wonder what he would do next. Would he untie me? I didn't care. I just wallowed in the feeling.
Then he went on, "So I've paid your price and now I guess I own you, huh?"
At this I sort of moaned and laughed at the same time and it sounded sort of like, "Hmm hmmmmm hm hm."
He stood with one hand on his hip with his other hand stroking his chin, inspecting his new purchase. I said, "Av my moo owmer, I fink oo fould amble vuh merkandith am fee if itf emee ood." And then thank God, he did. I was about to explode and go through the roof.
He actually blushed and then pulled my chair into them middle of the room and from behind the chair he said, "You seem a little over-excited, so I think before we untie you, we need to calm you down a little, and I know just the thing." He pulled my chair into the middle of the room and knelt beside and slightly behind it. And then it began. He started my nibbling at my ears and then kissed my gagged mouth. He reached down and rubbed my breasts, unhooking the bra in front and taking a breast in each hand. I had needed to feel this for hours and the relief and excitement were like a dream. I began writhing around and pushing against his hands. This went on for a wonderfully long time. As he did this he was slowly moving around on his knees toward the front of my chair. He transferred his hands one at a time from my breasts to my legs and ever so slowly began to move his hands all over my bound, nylon-clad legs and feet, until finally when I was almost sick with desire and desperate for climax, he began ever so lightly to stroke my vagina with the two middle fingers of his left hand, while the right hand continued to feel my legs and feet.
I remember the thought floating through my mind that it was all twice as powerful as being tickled, but I moved towards the feeling rather than struggling to get away. As soon as he began touching my vagina, I began to feel, like a huge cloud on a distant horizon, a deep strong orgasm building from what seemed like miles away, but I could already feel its power. It was like hearing a giant, unstoppable force at a distance. It moved closer and swelled within me. It grew ever closer until it was the most powerful thing in the universe. It produced a dream-like state where time was condensed and I had beautiful visions one after another following each other like a random slide show of everything I loved in life. And then it hit like a tornado coming ashore. I was propelled forward in the chair and there was a tremendous rushing noise and a sensation of falling and then I knew no more.
A dim light coalesced before my eyes and as they focused, there was Harold's smiling face above me pushing the hair out of my eyes. "You fainted," he said, "just like a real damsel in distress."
He had started untying my legs and when he finished, he lay down on the floor with me. We used the chair cushions as pillows and I have never been more comfortable than we were then in the empty bedroom of the guesthouse. I was floating. As we lay there, we began to kiss and toy with each other until finally we made love right there on the floor. After we slept for a while, we got up and Harold left so as not to be there when the parents arrived that morning. I went to sleep on the couch in the living room where all of this had started so many hours ago. I seemed like days. I lay there before I went to sleep knowing that what had started as a, maybe not so innocent, but at least harmless children's game had led to an adventure that Harold and I could revisit for the rest of our lives.
Copyright 3/2005 by Rayron D'Olier