"GMMMPPPHH!" I grunted when I opened my eyes and found myself in a forest.
"Mmmmmmm!" My friend Jessica called out in garbled nonsense.
"Ugh! Ere an Ah?" I asked myself, not even realizing that I wasn't talking.
"Ahhie! Hell ee!" Again, my friend called out, but I was too groggy since I was waking up.
"Gmmmmm," and that's when I realized that there was something in my mouth—a ball gag.
"Ahhie! Ahe uh!" Jessica finally got my full attention.
I studied Jessica and finally noticed we were bound and gagged. "Uh ith ohin on hehe?!"
"Ah ownh howh!" My fellow captive wailed into her own ball gag.
We were a pair of former girl scouts having fun in the forest. Although we were originally from different parts of the country originally, we knew it'd be fun to test our scout skills walking in the forests not too far from where I grew up near Ocala, Florida. These forests were like my second home for many years when I was a pre-teen and a teenager. We were having fun, and next thing I knew we were like this! Who did this to us? Why did they do it?
Naturally, we had dressed kind of like former scouts putting a young adult twist on their youths. Instead of khaki shorts, we wore khaki denim knee skirts before diverging. I had my sage green bandana—my favorite color—as a headband to keep my hair out of my face and matching knee socks. A brown long-sleeve t-shirt protected me against the saw palmettos; my matching canvas sneakers kept me cozy yet allowed me to feel the forest floor in detail. Annie had chosen brown for her knee socks, beige for her sneakers, and a classic brown headband to hold her hair back. I think we made a cute pair; apparently, somebody thought we were too cute to resist.
Drool poured off the orange ball gag in my mouth, and the black strap had been pulled too tightly for my liking. Jessica was similarly gagged, but her ball gag was purple and looked much larger than mine. Drool dribbled down my chin in a slow trickle and onto my shirt. On a summer day, the last thing you need is to be working. You dress for protection and drink lots of water to make up for the extra sweat. I tried to move and discovered just how tightly and uncomfortably bound I was. Whoever had done this also was certainly a woodlands expert of some sort.
"Hoo uh hell hih hith ho uth?" I asked Jessica, risking the excess drooling that resulted.
"Ah hon'h how eiherh, Annie," Jessica responded, "How hu ee geh ouh?"
"Ah hahe no ihea," I shook my head, giving a few good, hard pulls to test the ropes.
The forest was directly integrated into our bondage—there were trees between our backs and our arms. Poor Jessica's wrists and elbows were tied together with the tree acting like a cruel pole to keep her from hopping away. I was lucky to only have my crossed wrists bound, but my tree, if I may call it that, was a bit thicker despite Jessica being over 2 inches taller than I am.
Tight ropes wrapped above and below my boobs and at my waist, all with tight cinching, to make a brutal harness and waist rope that ground my back into the rough wood. At least we weren't so cruelly tied against a palm tree; that would hurt. Escaping this on my own would probably cause me to ruin my shirt, but I can replace a shirt while our loved ones can't replace us. I let out a sigh of frustration, but I knew that I could escape. I just had to escape before whoever returned.
Thankfully, both of us were calm and level-headed, but our conversation sure turned our ball gag faucets to full trickle. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make us go "UGH!" With the rough bark digging into our backs, struggling was a chore, but it wasn't rough enough to scrape our skin unless we were shirtless and thrashing like caged animals.
Our legs weren't simply tied—they were trussed. Ropes bound our legs at our ankles, both sides of our knees, and below our waists (under our skirts). I could feel rope under my skirt although I couldn't see it. If I had a rope like that, I was confident Annie did too. Each of the three exposed leg ropes were also wrapped around the tree and cinched between our legs and the bark. Even if we never knew who our captor was, we knew they were as good at knots as a scout!
"Hethiha, ahe ooh gehhin' ehhyhare?" I asked my friend while I fought my own tight bondage.
"Uh ihhle," Jessica responded before adding a loud grunt, "Mah elhowth ahe houhhing!"
"Thith hree ith tho ough!" OK, at the time, the tree seemed pretty horrible to my back. "UGH!"
"UGH!" My fellow captive responded in agreement and added, "Ah'd ike hoo hill thumuhn!"
I shifted as much as the bark and rope allowed me to try to plant my feet more firmly on the bare earth beneath me. Looking up, I saw a canopy of scrub pines, oaks, and palms blocking most of the daylight. How many adventures I'd shared here with my friends as a child. At first, we'd go as part of our scout troop, but once we hit 16 we would come out here by ourselves since several of us lived just on the outskirts of this very place. Jessica, however, was a native born Minnesota girl, and those northern forests shared many similarities while being very different.
Really, it could have been worse. Our shirts were where they belonged, and there was no sign of an attacker in any direction. I had to do what a scout does: practice her knots. When I was a girl scout, we learned about knots, and we grew to enjoy practicing our knot tying—and untying—on one another. Those were games, though; this was nonconsensual kidnapping and imprisonment.
I twisted my wrists as much as I dared, which yanked on the waist rope and forcefully rubbed my body against the tree. This was an example of a risk that was worth taking, although it wasn't the kind of risk I like taking. As an engineer who can be your stereotypical glasses nerd, taking risks means ordering a different flavor of coffee from my favorite coffee shop. Getting kidnapped and abandoned in the forest is not my idea of a thrilling time unless it's part of a scout game.
"How ahe ou hooin?" I asked Jessica, looking across the path to where my friend was trapped.
"Ugh!" she grunted while straining against the ropes, "Ah hink Ah'm gehhin humhare!"
"Thith herthun ith hooh." Struggling revealed the ropes went through our belt loops, too.
Jessica was similarly impressed but, like me, not amused. "They're a houthehah!"
"GMMMMMM!" My groan mostly arose from really fighting against the ropes.
"Why the huck hih thumhuhn hoo thith hoo uth?" Now Jessica was asking the tough questions.
In my experience, something had to give. If it's rope bondage, it can be escaped. Finding how to escape is the harder part of the equation, but it can be solved. With a great deal of patience, you can always find the answer… unless it's a strangle hogtie, which means you have a time limit lest you pass out before you can escape. Thankfully, I have never experienced a strangle hogtie, but I was once strangled by my ex. That's not for now, although it is a TUG story of a darker kind.
Another loud grunt escaped me when I twisted my wrists and scraped my back on the bark, but it was clear that Jessica and I were the better scouts. While Jessica is more quiet and reclusive, she is still a top-notch scout, but her teenage years were wasted on crime—thanks to an abusive bully of a sister—instead of the girl scout troop she adored so much. As adults, though, we both enjoy scouts again, albeit as troop leaders now. In fact, we're leaders in the same troop!
Each twist of my wrists worked towards something despite the pain. Jessica's advantage was her ability to shimmy her arms if she did so slowly without scraping her back, but her disadvantage was her tightly bound elbows. From our conversations, drool dribbled off our lips and onto our chests, where the moisture soaked into our shirts. Sweat soaked into the fabric from the heat of Florida summer, and the sun beat down upon us where it passed through the canopy above us.
With effort, I felt that first slip from the ropes on my thighs. Those are usually the first to go due to having nothing to hold. Ropes below the knees hold in place thanks to your leg muscles; rope holds at the ankles because of the bones and feet below. Still, once you get those first two out of the way, typically it gives you enough movement to start weakening the ropes.
Jessica struggled with her arm ropes more, but she fared better with her leg ropes. It was fair for us to escape on our own! We just had to escape before our assailant—who was still unknown to us—returned. Drool kept dribbling off the gag, and sweat poured down our brows. Knee socks and long-sleeves had proven not to be beneficial because they encouraged overheating. Grunts of pain came out of us from rubbing our arms and backs against the bark despite our shirts.
"GMMMMMMMM!" I groaned in frustration because I was growing frustrated after 30 minutes.
"Whah hine uh thyhohath hoeth thith? Thith ith tho hight!" Jessica shook her head.
"Ah'm thick of hoolin tho hutth." Ironically, a big blob of drool fell off my gag right then.
"How ahe ou hooin hith our opeth?" Jessica, like me, was calm but obviously aggravated.
"Ah'm gehhin thehe. How ahouh ou?" I asked her in kind, establishing our progress.
"Guh!" My friend grunted and kicked off a rope, "Ah goh mah egth ouh!"
"Ah goh mah hinher on a knoh!" My words meant there was hope for us to get out.
Then I felt it—the knot of my wrist rope. Perhaps it was integrated into my belt loop, but either way I was determined not to lose it. If I could untie that, then I would be able to weaken more of the ropes even if just by shimmying or rubbing my wrists against the bark of the strong, hard tree that rigidly stood between my wrists and my body. My fingers slowly twisted the knot, seeking a little slack. Blind motion isn't easy unless you're as experienced as I am, and the rope soon came loose in my fingers. A little more manipulation got the underlying knots undone, and soon I was able to start unwrapping the rope. Drool frustratingly spilled off my gag the entire time.
Jessica seemed to be making progress with her shimmy strategy, although she couldn't handle the pain like I could. We both had our pain. One time after a scout outing, when we were alone, she told me how her sister used to torment her, especially when she performed poorly (by said sister's standards) during a crime job. I'll spare you the details, but prison really did save Jessica's life. I was now trapped here in the forest with her, and once again she was escaping her enemy's grasp.
"AUGGGH!" I grunted, jerked my wrists out of the rope, and heard the rope hit the tree's roots.
"Ay hoo go!" Jessica congratulated me through her purple gag.
"Hankth. Now hoo ethhape the etht uh thith," I looked around my body, studying the ropes.
"UGHHHH!" My friend responded, pulling her own arms out of their tight bondage, "Goh ih!"
"That ohe wuth tho tighh!" My fingers busily messed with my harness and waist rope.
"Whoeher hih thith who uth ith a piethe uh shthih!" Man, Jessica was spot on in that assessment.
Getting the remaining ropes off was a cinch—pun intended—but it didn't answer the questions of who did this or why they did it to us. It took us a few minutes, but we did it and took every rope off our respective bodies. There was satisfaction in escaping yet fear in having no answers to our concerns. Unbuckling the ball gags was so satisfying, and we tossed them onto the forest floor.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked Jessica with a concerned voice, rubbing my arms.
"Let's get the hell out of here before they come back!" She answered, wiping drool off her chin.
With a nod of agreement, we hurriedly walked—not running to conserve energy—away from the site of our disturbing and inexplicable captivity.
The Scout's Forest Nightmare
Duration of Film: Approximately 36 minutes
Production Date: Sunday, August 11, 2019
| Featuring | Model Name | As |
|---|---|---|
| Joyce Verdi | Annie Oakes | Scout #1 |
| Bridget Anderson | Jessica Sanders | Scout #2 |
| Mary-Ann Jamison | Maddy Vee | Rigger |
| Nichole Petersen | Paulina Oliveira | Camera |
"Mary-Ann, why did you tie those ropes like you really did want to keep us hostage?" I asked.
"Ha ha ha! Joyce," Mary-Ann, our boss, laughed, "You're too much of an escape queen."
"You did a good job," I rolled up my sleeves and showed deep rope marks on my wrists.
"Well, well, well," Bridget looked at her legs, "Maybe I should go to the tattoo parlor."
"And get some rope permanently put in place?" Mary-Ann laughed once again, "No thanks!"
"I'm going to fall asleep joyfully rubbing my wrists." My smile was readily apparent.
"Here," Nichole, our camera girl of the moment, handed us bottles of water, "Drink up!"
"Thanks!" I took a big drink from the bottle, "I've been kidnapped many times in this forest!"
It was true. My first TUG involved being kidnapped and abandoned by some girl scout bullies during a troop outing. They led me away from camp, jumped me, and left me behind. That was the beginning of something new, though. I escaped, worked with my friends to catch my rivals, and turned my rivals into my friends, and TUGs became a staple of our troop, which we cheekily passed off as "practicing our knots." TUGs brought us joy throughout our high school years. At the time, I had no idea I'd go to college, meet Nichole, get into bondage modeling, and meet both Bridget and Mary-Ann as a result. What a journey my life has been!
THE END
