Tying Myself up in Knots (Again)
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By Gillian B
Prologue
A recent story of mine related how I tied myself up and couldn't get free when I was about 13 or 14. As I said in that story, I began to enjoy the experience of being tied up for its own sake about that time.
For me, personally, tying up for fun has to be consensual and gentle. (A lot of the stuff you see on the net is much too strong for my tastes and just looks like cruelty to my eyes.) If I'm tied up, I like to be secure but comfortable. I prefer my bindings to hug me, not hurt me.
Tying myself up in my teens and twenties was very different to children's tie-up games, but also different from adult tie-up games. It was primarily a pleasure of fantasy, imagination and emotion, rather like a romantic novel or film. (I'm not putting this very well - I hope some of it makes sense.)
Anyway, I indulged myself in the occasional self-tie from time to time. After the experience I related previously, I was very careful to make sure that I could free myself. I preferred the process of freeing myself to be a challenging exercise in escapology, but always had an "emergency exit" available in the form of a large pair of scissors.
Despite the precautions, it all went wrong one other time.
This event took place when I was 21 or 22, in the winter of 1975-76. I had completed my degree at university and was doing my post-graduate teacher training year. I shared a small flat with my old schoolfriend Janet (she of some of Jon(McA)'s and my previous stories). Janet had also completed her degree and had started her first real job.
Janet was out with friends one Friday evening. I had stayed in to finish an essay, so I would have the weekend clear. Came about 9.00pm, I had finished pounding away on my typewriter and sat back in my chair. I decided that, as I had the house to myself, a little tie-up game might be fun.
I had been pondering a way of tying myself to a chair efficiently and decided to try it out. (Not, you understand, that I spent every waking minute thinking about ways to tie myself up.)
In childhood games, we had settled on using woolly scarves and socks as our usual tying-up equipment and they remained my favourites at this time. Mid 70's fashion had introduced some incredibly long socks - way up over knee level - and these proved useful a useful addition to the armoury. This was also the period of the very long scarf (8 to 10 feet) and, of course, I had several. I also had a few pairs of worn-out woolly tights, which I wouldn't be too dismayed to snip through if I had to, in order to escape.
Impoverished youngsters that we were, we didn't spend more than we had to on heating our flat. We reasoned that it was much cheaper just to wear more clothes in winter. Accordingly, I was well wrapped up for an evening at the typewriter, in a thick roll-neck sweater with an ankle-length wool jersey skirt worn over woolly tights and a pair of thick socks in lieu of slippers. (To this day, I retain the useful art of being able to type while wearing gloves!) I decided that I couldn't be bothered to change into trousers (and get cold doing so) just for a tie-up game.
I was going to use my desk chair for the game. (It was an upright wooden chair with arms, not ideal for typing because of the arms, but high enough for someone of my stature to type without having to reach up to do so.) I moved my books and papers out of the way and set out my tying-up equipment on the edge of my desk where it would all be within reach.
After a precautionary trip to the bathroom (see - I'm learning these US euphemisms), I sat down and began. I started by tying my legs. After some experimentation, I settled for tying my ankles under the skirt first with a long sock, then I tied short scarves round my legs over the skirt at ankle level and just above my knees. I tied one end of a scarf to the bottom of the middle one of the vertical slats which made up the chair back and led it under the chair seat to the floor between the chair's front legs. I tied the free end to my ankle binding, so I could lift my feet right up to chair seat level, but not swing them forward from the front of the chair.
Body next. I had already hitched the middle of a long scarf to the centre of the top rail of the chair back. I brought the ends forward over my shoulders, crossed them in the middle of my chest, pushed them behind the verticals at the sides of the chair back, pulled them forward and tied a knot just below bust level. (As I said, I like my bindings to hug me, and this is a particularly huggy arrangement.) This scarf stopped me rising or leaning forwards, but not from slumping down in the chair. I tied another scarf round me and the chair back at waist level to hold me back firmly.
A comfortable tie-up needs a comfortable gag. I found cleave gags to be desperately uncomfortable, so I prefer to use a combination of packing and something to hold it in. On this occasion, I stuffed a hankie into my mouth, put a woolly balaclava on (covering everything but my eyes) and tied a short scarf over my mouth (but not nose or chin) over the balaclava and knotted behind my head. The pressure of the scarf prevents the hanky being pushed out and friction with the balaclava stops the scarf being worked down. (Does "balaclava" need translation? Woolly hat that covers the whole head, except for the face, or except for a slit for the eyes, depending on design.)
Last of all, my arms. I had already used a pair of long socks to tie a loop attached to each side of the chair where the arms joined the back. These loops were just big enough to slide my arms through. For wrist bindings I planned to use constrictor knots (featured in my previous self-tie story). I used a pair of old woolly tights (probably worn through at the heel), which I snipped into two separate legs. I used each of these to tie a constrictor knot loosely round the chair arms. As I mentioned previously, a constrictor knot needs to be tied round something. In this instance, the chair arm would keep the knot intact, but I also needed to be able to slip my hand through. I used a plastic tumbler to hold each of the knots open (slightly thicker than my hand and tapered to be easy to push out). Each constrictor knot had two free ends at this stage. For each knot, I tied one free end off round the vertical supporting the chair arm. The remaining two ends I tied together in mid air between the knots, pulling everything as tight as I could and adjusting the constrictor knots so they had scope to tighten.
Finally, the exciting bit. I made sure that my emergency scissors were on my desk, with the handles overhanging the edge slightly. I put a pair of mittens on, partly for warmth, partly to pad my wrists a bit. I slid my arms into the loops attached to the sides of the chair, making sure they ended up above my elbows. I carefully pushed my hands through the constrictor knots, popping the tumblers out onto the floor as I did so. If you recall, my legs were tied in such a way that I could lift my legs up. I was able to bring my knees up under the knot linking the two constrictor knots and apply a steady upward pressure. (The scarves tying my body back to the chair allowed me to do this without toppling forwards.) Steady pressure and a little wiggling of my wrists and the constrictor knots tightened satisfactorily. I stopped tightening when my wrists were bound firmly but not uncomfortably.
I was very pleased with the result. I was very securely tied, but quite comfortable. It would have been nice if my legs had been immobilised, but you can't have everything.
I enjoyed my predicament for half an hour or so, then turned my attention to thoughts of escape. About two minutes experimentation proved that I couldn't reach any knots at all and there was no way of working any slack into the constrictor knots on my wrists.
There are times when the only answer is a pair of scissors. I shuffled my chair round to reach them. Major snag - my wrists were tied down so firmly I couldn't reach high enough to get the scissors. I could get my fingertips within about half an inch of them, but not touch. I tried tilting the chair slightly, but with tied legs, I couldn't tilt it safely in a useful direction. I decided to try knocking the scissors off the desk onto my lap, in which case I could lift my legs to bring them within reach. I also reasoned that if they ended up on the floor, I could still get them if I tipped the chair right over. A gentle nudge with an elbow should do it (I had just enough freedom of movement). When I tried, the scissors skittered back across the desk and vanished under my typewriter. (Now, this was the mid-70's, so "typewriter" really means exactly that - mine was about 25 pounds of enamelled cast iron and nickel-plated steel.) The typewriter was effectively immovable and was also ballasting the desk, so there was no chance of tilting it to move the scissors.
The only course of action left was to wait it out. It was about 10.15pm by then and Janet would be back before midnight (or possibly a little after). There wasn't much else to do, so I relaxed as well as I could and let the time pass.
Midnight came and went and still no sign of Janet. I dozed from time to time and fell into that odd state when you think you're awake but suddenly realise that an hour has passed. As the clock advanced into the small hours of Saturday morning, I realised that Janet was probably out for the night.
I was woken by the sound of the flat door opening. 7.30am - this must be Janet coming back for her breakfast after a night out. I was just about to try to alert her with a good loud "Mmmmph", when I realised that I could hear voices - she wasn't alone. The door to my bedroom, where I was tied up, was slightly open. Janet must surely notice that and wonder why the lights were on in the flat. Sure enough, a few seconds later there was a light tap on my door and Janet's head appeared round the edge of it. As she saw me her mouth opened wide, but to her credit (and despite the amount she had clearly had to drink) she didn't make a sound. She came into my room and whispered, "Are you stuck?". I nodded. "Wait a minute," she said and left the room again, pulling the door shut behind her.
I listened carefully and could just hear Janet telling someone where the bathroom was. I heard a door shut, then Janet hurried back into my room. Janet ungagged me then started to work on my wrist bindings, but wasn't making much impression. It took me a while to get my mouth working again, but then I was able to say, "Use scissors - under the typewriter". Janet retrieved the scissors and raised her eyebrows at me, but said nothing. She snipped through the old tights holding my wrists then said, "OK on your own from here?". I nodded and Janet left the room again. Feeling slightly stiff, I untied myself as quickly as I could then fled to the bathroom which was vacant again by then. I used the toilet (not a moment too soon) and washed. It was only as I returned to my bedroom that I realised how stiff I actually was, but otherwise there seemed to be no ill effects.
I changed my clothes, brushed my hair and nonchalantly joined Janet and her friend (who turned out to be a work colleague) in the kitchen for breakfast.
After breakfast, Janet's friend departed and Janet retreated somewhat unsteadily to her bedroom to catch up on some sleep. About lunch time, Janet re-appeared, ashen and, by then, seriously hung over. She did not enjoy the remainder of the day and slept through most of Sunday. Janet later suggested that she might have been better off tied to a chair all night than going on a bender.
Postscript
This was another story where I couldn't remember critical details after so long. I could remember exactly the arrangement of my bindings - I had many hours to contemplate that, but couldn't recall precisely how I had actually tied myself up. I thought about it very hard and then staged a reconstruction to see if my theory was correct. It all seemed to work, so I think I have described it about correctly, although I am now no longer supple enough (and a bit too fat) to tighten the bindings in the way I described.
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Gillian B's stories
- 01 - Jill's Revenge (fF/mm)
- 02 - Murder at the Vicarage (ff/f, f/F, f/ff)
- 03 - Gillian's Birthday Present (*/mf)
- 04 - Peter and Paul (mm/F, F/mm)
- 05 - Tying Myself up in Knots (f/self)
- 06 - The Magic Show (f/f)
- 07 - Tying Myself up in Knots (Again) (f/self)
- 08 - Trouble with Tim (f/m, f/self, m/f)
- 09 - The Great Biscuit Robbery (mf/F, F/mf)
- 10 - The Lamp Post (m+f+/f+)
- 11 - Teacher Torture (or: Ol’ Soggy) (ff/FF)
- 12 - Anna's Story (ff/f, F/ff)
- 13 - A Game of Soldiers (mm/f, Ff/mm)
- 14 - A Good Old Fashioned English Hanging (f)
- 15 - Kidnapping Cathy (f/m, m/ff, ff/m, f/f)
- 16 - A Surprise Party (fff/f)
- 17 - Challenging Mum (F/mf, mf/F)
- 18 - Getting Tied Up in my Studies (f/f, ff/F)
- 19 - Money for Old Rope (M/F)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section