Annie and Me: Little Bandit Annie (f/F)

[AlexUSA3]

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Annie and Me: Little Bandit Annie
Sunday, December 22, 2019

In short, it was Momma's idea that I introduce my younger half-sister, Annila, to TUGs. With a bit of fear, I did it, but I was so glad that I'd done so. We played our games like children, and it's a childish game of this nature that is the feature of this story. You see, Annie is 6 years younger than me, so I was a 20 year-old girl who'd seen the world of TUGs and bondage already thanks to the Cool Girls' Club. I took my duty to protect Annila's innocence very seriously, and with a sigh of relief I tell you that I succeeded. This story, that of Annie the Bandit, will make most of you smile. It all started one Sunday after church and shortly before Western Christmas.

As soon as we entered the little cottage in which Momma and I lived, Annie patted the top of her head as she always did. I nodded, giving her permission to borrow one of my bandanas. If I did it, Annie wanted to at least try it. I wore bandanas and was a collegiate junior rower; Annie wore bandanas and was a high school freshman rower. I nodded my head, making the big smile on her face even bigger, and Annie practically skipped into my bedroom and shut the door so she could change out of her church clothes and into something more casual and more comfortable.

I felt that life wasn't fair to Annie. Just 15 months earlier, I had a tearful reunion with our father when he was facing death from liver failure, and I stepped forward as a donor, adding time to his life in a sacrifice that still shocks me even in hindsight. I'd never met Annie before that, and that scared young girl's face is still seared into my mind as my first impression of Annila Räänta. In a spirit of joy, Papa soon moved his family back to Madison, Wisconsin from Kansas City, where Annie and her younger brother was born. Less than a year later, Annie's mother was dead from a swift, devastating cancer without a chance to fight, and Papa and Momma were dating again with a desire to reunite what was once broken. Annie loved Momma; the marriage had ended because of something Papa had done to me; Annie and I were thereby conflicted.

"Stick 'em up, scarf girl," Annie poked a water pistol into my spine from behind me.
"Yes, ma'am," I responded with a slight smirk on my face, "What do you want from me?"
"I'm a bandit, and I want you to put your hands together behind your back, nice and slow."
"OK, Miss Bandit, I'll do what you say," I said this answer in Russian, to Annie's frustration.
"Speak English," she responded in perfect, flawless, almost native Finnish, to my delight.
"I'll speak English when you speak English!" I stifled a giggle, but Momma did giggle.
"Oh, that does it! I was going to be nice and use scarves, but I changed my mind," the bandit had reached her pretend ceiling, and now she was strongly using my brown rope to tie my wrists.

Once my wrists and elbows were tied together, I turned to face the bandit. What a fun girl Annie was! Being from Kansas City, it's unsurprising she would be a fan of the Kansas City Chiefs for American football. She had a red short-sleeve t-shirt of the team with a white long-sleeve t-shirt underneath that. Her kerchief was a white bandana, and her mask was a red bandana. Blue jeans were fairly standard for Annie, who had a side of herself who liked being a little rugged at times. The red canvas sneakers and white crew socks also were a nod to me, her big sister.

Of course, I was still in my church clothes, which were quiet just like me. A navy skirt and with a matching kerchief bandana kept me simple and very Russian. The icy blue long-sleeve t-shirt and matching knee socks kept things muted, and the muted theme continued with white pumps on my feet and a white fabric pull-over jacket added a little bit of needed warmth in Wisconsin's vicious winters. The layers also allowed Annie to tie the ropes more tightly without hurting me, but that was unintentional for sure. I tested the ropes and let my face return to its typical relaxed state with flat lips that could be content or passive aggressive, depending on my mood or yours.

A harness is one of those things that's tricky with children, and for that reason you emphasize the function over the form. After all, the purpose of a chest harness in TUGs is to restrict movement of the arms, much like a waist rope. Annie tied both of these with her calm measured motions of which I held great admiration. She was rarely uptight or lazy like I could be, and I knew that she would always tie the ropes with careful, deliberate technique. That's just part of the charm of an Annila Räänta captivity. The other is the unconditional affection she shows, much like Momma. I find that ironic considering Momma is not her mother, but Annie permits my mother to fill that void in her heart even if only partially. Yes, I was a blessed young woman!

"Oh, no," I turned and acted shocked while maintaining my flat-lipped expression, "I'm trapped!"
"I'm sorry, Church Girl," Annila pointed the water pistol at me again, "Sit on the sofa!"
"Why should I obey you?" I grunted, testing the ropes to find they were indeed strong, "UGGH!"
"Because I have a water pistol!" she pulled her mask down to mock me, "Duhhhh! SAMMY!"
"Right! Sorry," I rolled my eyes at my own forgetfulness, "OK. Please don't hurt me!"
"Now, sit down!" my captor pulled the red bandana over her nose again, "I won't ask again!"
"Annila, here," Momma handed Annie one of the homemade gags the Cool Girls' Club uses.

The homemade gags are of note as well because they are technically a type of ball gag, made out of a rather hard rubber dog toy ball that's 2.5 inches in diameter. The ball has opposite holes to help your canine friend to breathe during play, and a girl at Minnesota Tech, some years before I ever started college, had the idea of threading a bandana through the holes of the toy to create a cheap homemade ball gag. The leaders of the Cool Girls' Club decided that these are a safe way to to play with "Junior Members" because they are theoretically something a child could create in a moment of creativity. Momma, in her wisdom like the Cool Girls, reasoned that it's much safer for us to introduce Annie to such things on our own lest she get curious and explore the internet.

"Thank you, Momma," Annie accepted the blue rubber ball and the navy bandana, "Open wide!"
"Momma," I smiled and paused my struggle with the rope to look at my mother, "I love you."
"I am not your mother," Momma deadpanned, "I'm her assistant. Boss, silence our captive."
"Good idea, because this captive talks too much," my sister nodded her head and approached me.
"UNNNKKKK!" I grunted when the big ball filled my mouth, and Annie knotted the bandana.
"If she becomes too quarrelsome, we will add tape to keep her quiet," my mother said calmly.
"Mmmmph!" my calm demeanor made it hard for anyone besides Momma to read my emotions.
"Put your legs together!" my sister ordered me, "Your struggles are useless against my knots!"

Momma knows she will never replace Annie's late mother; the world lost a good woman on that sad day that happened. Who knew? In June, I was in Kansas City visiting my broken father who only wanted to see me again and apologize to my face before he possibly died, and by the end of July I was on an operating table being chopped open so that Papa could have a piece of my liver so that he could have a second chance at life and another chance at being my father. Throughout the years, he tried so hard to connect with me, and I refused so stubbornly not knowing he'd truly changed and that, within two years of the moment that shattered me, he had changed for real and in genuine contrition for what happened on that night. Ironically, he damaged me that night, but I made the decision to let that night ruin me even when Momma told me his change was genuine.

I sat still while Annie tied my legs together in four spots. The first was above my knees, and the second was below my knees. The third was at my ankles, and at Momma's suggestion Annie had the rope wind into my heels two times so that I couldn't remove my pumps. The fourth rope was just above mid thighs so my legs got that much needed extra restraint because of my size (I stand at 5'9") without her hand getting too far up my legs. With that, the bandit crossed her arms while she studied me to decide whether or not she was satisfied with her ropework.

Why not have fun? I stood up and started hopping from the living room towards the kitchen so I would hear the CLACK! of my heels upon the kitchen floor. CLACK! I grunted into the gag to add a touch of melodrama to things, and it was only when I began fumbling around for a drawer handle that Annie figured out what I was actually doing. CLACK! With a childish gasp of surprise, she reached for her water pistol and pointed it at me once again, bringing me to a full stop. CLACK! CLACK! I hopped around to face her. CLACK!

"Naughty captive!" she said to me in her crisp Finnish, "I will teach you a lesson for this!"
"Huh?" I turned to her, "heah Inglith!" CLACK! CLACK! I sure showed her.
"Hop to the bedroom, Miss Räänta. Yeah, I know your name," she comically played her role.
"Gmmmm," I looked at her as pitifully as I could. CLACK! CLACK! CLUMP! the sound deadened but remained alive when I reached the carpeting, "MMMMMMMMM!"
"Keep hopping, my dear. Keep hoping," she pushed the water pistol into my spine again.
"Mmmmmmmm!" I played along. CLUMP! CLUMP! CLUMP!
"That's right. Keep going," Annie guided me like a movie gangster guides a kidnapping victim.

My sister pushed my knees from behind gently, just like she'd seen me and my friends do when I had allowed her to partake in games with the CGC. This gentle technique was a way to get your captive onto the floor without causing injury. Once I was down there, Annie grabbed an icy blue bandana, folded it up, and blindfolded me. Then she carefully guided me down to the floor so I was completely prone on the carpet of my bedroom. Unfortunately for both of us, I was feeling extremely mischievous, and I was determined to see how far my sister would escalate things.

That's my nature. Honestly, I think I was enjoying mindlessly hopping around the house even if I was supposed to be the victim of a home invasion. There were always so many twists and turns in the games that happened in the small cottage that I knew just what I ought to expect from one moment to the next. Even if I was so tightly bound and gagged, it was still my bedroom and my home, and I knew it like the back of my hand. With a marked struggle, I managed to scrunch so I was upright and then used my bed to get myself to standing again. CLUMP!

CLUMP! CLUMP! CLUMP! BANG! I was certain my shoulder would be bruised from that impact. I needed to take smaller hops for my own safety. Of course, such a collision quickly brought Annie into the bedroom, and I think a blob of drool fell off the gag just at that moment. Either way, Annie repeated the motions to make my knees buckle, but this time I was seated on a chair. Then I heard that distinctive sound of clear packing tape. After enough experience, you can distinguish clear tape from brown tape from duct tape from electrical tape.

"Oh, Sammy, you're making a drooly mess," Annie teased me, "Messy, messy captive!"
"Hmmmmmm!" I responded while she used a bandana to clean up the drool.
"Don't worry. I'll help you stop being such a disastrous captive," she ripped the tape off the roll.
"Remember, Annila," I heard Momma guiding her, "Better to be slow and smooth with tape."
"Thank you, Momma," my sister cheerfully accepted my mother's gentle, kind wisdom.
"Mmmmmmm!" was all I could say after 6 slow, smooth, careful, tight wraps of the tape.
"Much better," Annie said before giving me a tight hug, "Behave yourself, captive!"

You poor things! I apologize to my first time readers who are not familiar with me and my sweet little sister, Annie. I've robbed you of physical descriptions of ourselves. The two of us both are blessed with interesting hair that naturally ranges from pale blonde to ash blonde with the classic yellow blonde in the middle. For her, however, the pale and brown tones are stronger than mine, giving her hair a more dramatic appearance. Her eyes are blue-grey, but mine are blue-green. It is amazing how much we look alike despite having different mothers, but Papa says his mother's face was much like ours. Grandma Räänta passed away when I was young, and I understandably do not remember life in Russia when I barely had spoken my first words when we left there for a new life here in America. Our older half-sister also looks like us, but she looks like her mother. The differences are subtle, like our smiles all coming from our mothers.

I almost always kept my hair in a braid except when I was home alone with Momma or with my landlady at Minnesota Tech. My hair occasionally whipped around, but mostly today my braid was staying wrapped around so that the icy blue scrunchie was in front of me. I have stories of adventures with my landlady and Cool Girls at college, too, but this is an Annie story. Annie had her hair in a braid today, too, but she was 50/50 with how she kept it. Now, I was wearing loops of brown rope that bound me tightly and inescapably at the careful hands of my little sister.

I struggled on the chair, causing my pumps to CLACK! off the wood and to CLUMP! off the carpet. A funny thing about my pumps is that I wear pumps instead of heels because I am already one of the tallest women at church; I did not like towering over the babushkas! I hated to tower over many of the men too. I liked the CLACK! and the CLUMP! very much as it was a pleasant sound effect that lended a little drama to my struggle in the ropes. I've forgotten to refocus on the most important part here: Annila. It was time to make things fun for her again.

"Mmmmmph!" I dug my heels into the carpet and effortlessly pushed myself up to standing once again. I was determined to get myself into that living room and onto the sofa. It was a fun party trick that I had perfected quickly with the CGC, memorizing the layout of a home and then trying to get around the home safely. Of course, I didn't take such risks when I knew a staircase was on the route, and in that scenario I'd sit on the floor and scrunch like a caterpillar instead.

CLUMP! "Mmmmmmmmm!" I took little playful bunny hops, choosing to enjoy myself in my quest to entertain Annie. I knew there'd be some sort of playful punishment for this, and that made the effort so much more worthwhile. As may you have noticed, I've not once even tried to escape the hard way. While escaping is fun, if you escape then the game comes to an end earlier than perhaps you desire. Don't worry, I do have stories in which I escaped and nabbed Annie in a playful act of vengeance, and one such story is going to come in the future.

CLUMP! CLUMP! CLUMP! The icy blindfold didn't stop this Russian girl with her navy kerchief. Yes, I love dressing like the Russian scarf girl, and I never enjoy TUGs quite as much as I do when playing with Annie while still in my church clothes. CLUMP! with a smile on my face, I hopped out into the living room. I could tell because I knew the wall on my left was no longer there, having been replaced by the openness of the room. I might wear glasses due to poor vision (yes, Annie took those away), but God blessed me with bat hearing.

"MMMMMMMM!" I groaned to announce my presence.
"She is naughty, determined captive, I see," Momma casually observed, "We must punish her."
"Well, would a hogtie be enough?" the tone said that Annie was seeking advice.
"Gmmmmmm!" I grunted, but the hard rubber ball in my mouth prevented jaw movement.
"Yes, I think so," my gentle mother responded while Annie gently buckled my knees.
"Now I must punish you, Samantha Räänta," the red bandana mask muffled Annie's voice a little.

"Mmmmmm!" my legs were pulled up towards my elbow, and Annie confidently ran brown rope from my ankles, to my elbows, back to my ankles, and to my wrists, having learned from seeing Momma or my friends do the same to me or me doing the same to my friends. She carefully and calmly cinched the rope for a tighter hogtie and tied the knot out of reach of my fingers. I was a prisoner of Annila Räänta's abounding love. Momma checked to make sure the hogtie was done safely and properly and gave Annie a pat on the shoulder of quiet approval.

Now, my friends would spank me. Momma? Only if she gives me a playful order and only if I playfully disobey. Annie? Never. This is the beauty of having different limits for different sets of circumstances. Even nowadays, Annie and I play the same way even though she's now a tall, strong adult in her own right, and our games still feature the same tender care. I was hogtied on the living room carpet at that moment, but I was safer and better protected than I could be under any other conditions. I could feel the drool pooling between the ball and the clear tape, and soon the tape would loosen from the moisture dissolving the sticky glue. The sound of a cell phone's camera taking pictures promised me mementos of this fun occasion.

"Mmmmmm!" I struggled in the tight hogtie, seemingly helpless against the ropes that bound me so strictly. While we played like children, the ropework was very real, and that's part of why it is so important to play TUGs around people who know you so that someone unfamiliar with you is able to ask questions or receive guidance on how to play with you. The squeeze of the ropes was actually nice and cozy thanks to my jacket. Sure enough, a few rubs of my cheeks on the carpet saw the tape slip off thanks to the copious amounts of drool my mouth had accumulated, and the blob quickly escaped onto the carpet. Kid friendly ball gag or not, it still caused drooling.

Sometimes the unexpected happens, and sometimes the expected happens. Here, the unexpected happened when I squirmed, jerked my hands, grasped for the knot that was within my reach, and unraveled my braid instead. I had thrown my hair back enough in my energetic struggle that my scrunchie was the thing I'd felt, not a rope. Now, I was a rare Russian bandana girl with her hair down and open for Annie to see in a rare sight for her, even if not the first time.

"Oh, Sammy!" the bandit spoke through her mask, "Your hair is so beautiful!"
"Mmmmmm!" I blushed despite the blindfold while she played with my shiny exposed hair.
"Samantha and you have most gorgeous hair," Momma said with a smile, "Like Grandma."
"Sammy…," Annie whispered in Finnish and in wonder, "How did God make such beauty?"
"Now, Samantha, you really need to let go of your vanity," my mother sweetly chided me.
"Mmmm hmm," I nodded my head in acknowledgment, though it took some more time for me.
"Your hair," Annie showed herself to be truly a 14 year-old in this moment, "It's so beautiful. I'll stop, Sammy," she gathered my hair and put the scrunchie back, albeit for an ordinary ponytail to help keep my hair out of the way while I struggled on the carpet, trying to escape the hogtie.

With that remarkable sweet affection, Annie cut the packing tape and slowly peeled the rest of it off my head so that there'd be minimal hair pulling. I hardly felt a thing while she did it, and she still is the gentlest and most painless TUG buddy when it comes to removing hair. Even many of my friends marvel at how good she is at the care aspect of TUGs. I tried rubbing the icy bandana off my face, but the comfy blindfold had been knotted tightly and carefully, ensuring the Russian Navy Bandana Girl remained the captive of the sneaky Red-and-White Kansas City Bandit!

Elbow binding doesn't strain me like it does most girls, and I've often been touted as the bendiest of all the Cool Girls with one or two other girls also being in the race for that title. I am fighting as best as I am able, even kicking my legs as much as the hogtie allows, but it is inescapable. I'm the Kansas City Bandit's captive for sure, and Momma will have our Sunday supper ready before I can decipher any potential to escape this beyond the slow wriggling method that could take me hours to escape. I sigh and peacefully rest my head on the carpet, joyfully surrendering to Annie.

Sometimes, you just have to enjoy it all: your clothes, the binding, the gag, the blindfold, and the things happening around you. It's fun being ignored like you don't even exist while Momma is in her element in the kitchen and Annie is checking out the American football scoreboard. There I am, hogtied and helpless on the floor, a captured Russian Bandana Girl, all cozy and happy here in my captivity. Sometimes, the happiness is just in being captive and captor.

"Sammy, it's almost time for supper," Annie happily said to me, "Time to come out of the ropes!"
"Oh hay!" I accepted the end of the game and offered no resistance against my release.
"You are so much fun. You make me look forward to Sunday afternoons!" my sister's joy was so obvious, "I love the TUGs and the mischief and the way Momma… takes care of us."
"Now, Annie, get Sammy out of the ropes first," Momma's words carried a special meaning.
"Right, right," Annie's voice choked a little, "Sammy, Momma, I love you two so much!"

And soon supper was getting cold while Annie tearfully thanked Momma for being here to love her as she navigated the void in her own heart and for not trying to fill it. I hugged Annie like a big sister alone can hug a little sister, and soon I dried her tears, using the same icy blue bandana that had been my blindfold 10 minutes earlier. I couldn't imagine what it was like for my sugary sweet younger sister Annila. There was bittersweetness in us being her escape from the pain of her loss. Like that, we all remembered that the Kansas City Bandit was still but a teenager, and I knew then that this was going to be a very meaningful Christmas for every single one of us.

Annie, we love you.

THE END

[hafnermg]

I love these 3!! Lovely and very fun story!!.

[CarouselCowboy13]

Very Nice and Sweet Story